A Queen's Judgment
The door to the dimly lit chamber creaked open, and Everett was dragged in by two Alcardian guards. His chains clinked against the cold stone floor, their weight almost as heavy as the silence that filled the room.
Before him stood the matriarch of Alcardia, a figure of elegance and power. Her long black cloak shimmered faintly in the torchlight, the crest of Alcardia embroidered in gold upon her chest. Her sharp blue eyes pierced through him, her expression unreadable but commanding.
She raised a hand, signaling the guards. "Leave us."
The soldiers hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances. One spoke, his voice trembling, "But, Matriarch, he—"
"I said, leave us." Her tone brooked no argument.
Reluctantly, the guards bowed and stepped out of the room, the heavy door closing behind them.
The Question
For a moment, neither spoke. The matriarch studied Everett, her gaze unwavering, as if searching for something hidden beneath his bloodied and battered exterior. He sat on his knees, his hands bound before him, his face emotionless but his eyes wary.
Finally, she broke the silence.
"You are Everett, the empire's legendary weapon," she began, her voice calm yet laced with curiosity. "Now, a prisoner of Alcardia. Tell me, what should I do with you?"
Everett remained silent, his head bowed slightly. Her question hung in the air, its weight pressing down on him.
When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse but steady. "What happened to the emperor?"
The matriarch raised an eyebrow. "He is alive, for now. Held in another prison. His execution is scheduled for the next fortnight."
Everett's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
The Fate of Civilians
"What of the civilians?" he asked after a pause.
"They are unharmed," she replied. "They now live under the protection of Alcardia. The transition has been peaceful, for the most part. We do not harm innocents, Everett."
Her words were firm, almost defensive, as if anticipating his doubt.
The Royal Family
"And… the rest of the imperial family?" His voice faltered slightly, the question heavier than the chains he bore.
The matriarch's expression darkened. "Dead," she said bluntly. "All except one."
Everett's heart clenched. He already suspected the answer, but he had to ask. "Who?"
The matriarch tilted her head, curious about the sudden urgency in his tone.
"Please," Everett said, his voice cracking, "don't kill her. Safina, the emperor's daughter… she's just five years old."
A flicker of surprise crossed the matriarch's face, quickly replaced by a neutral mask. She folded her arms, her tone softening slightly. "Safina is safe. She is under our care. No harm will come to her."
A Moment of Relief
For the first time since his capture, Everett exhaled deeply, a faint glimmer of relief in his eyes. His shoulders, weighed down by defeat and guilt, seemed to loosen just a little.
"Thank you," he murmured.
The matriarch observed him closely, her sharp gaze catching the faintest trace of vulnerability. For a man hailed as a demon on the battlefield, he seemed remarkably… human.
An Offer Unspoken
"You care for her," the matriarch said, her voice quieter now, almost thoughtful. "Despite all the blood on your hands, you still hold on to something. Interesting."
Everett didn't respond. His eyes remained fixed on the floor, his mind swirling with memories of the empire, the battles, and the child who had once tugged at his cloak, calling him "Uncle Everett."
The matriarch stepped closer, her boots echoing against the stone floor. She crouched slightly, bringing herself to his eye level.
"Everett," she said softly, "your story isn't over. But whether it ends in redemption or ruin… that is for you to decide."
Without another word, she rose and left the chamber, her footsteps fading into the distance.
Everett remained kneeling, the chains biting into his wrists, but for the first time in a long while, a sliver of hope pierced through the darkness.