The princess looked surprised but took his arm as he steered her back towards the residence, his senses on high alert.
Once they were inside the safety of the residence, Elezabeth led him to a small, secret chamber hidden behind a tapestry in the residence's library.
"Hide in this room for now, Your Highness, I'm going to look after your father!" He said as he immediately ran off.
Aldwyn's heart hammered in his chest as he sprinted through the shadowy corridors. The air was thick with a sense of foreboding. His boots echoed off the cold floor, a rhythmic beat that grew faster with each step he took.
He reached the king's chamber and shoved open the heavy wooden door. What greeted him was a scene from a nightmare. The guards lay in a macabre tapestry of lifeless bodies, their armor stained with crimson. The king's chamber, once a bastion of power and safety, was now a grim tableau of death.
The acrid scent of blood filled his nostrils, the sight of the crimson pool spreading from the king's lifeless form a stark reminder of the brutality of the act. King Adrianus lay on his back, his eyes open and unseeing, a gaping wound in his chest where his heart once beat.
"What the hell is going on here?... I have to get back to the princess quickly and get her out of here!" Just as he set off, he was stopped by several guards.
"Lord Aldwyn, what's the meaning of this?" the lead guard demanded, his hand firmly on the hilt of his sword.
Aldwyn's eyes snapped to the guards, his mind racing. "The king! He's been murdered!" he exclaimed, pointing to the lifeless form behind him. "I have to get to the princess quickly, she might be in danger!"
The guards' expressions became increasingly serious as they stepped forward and blocked his path. "Don't take another step!"
Aldwyn's heart raced as he realized the gravity of the situation. "You don't understand, I'm not the enemy!" he protested, his eyes searching for any sign of belief in their stern faces.
The leading guard's gaze was unwavering. "You are the only one in this room, surrounded by the corpses of the guards and the king. You will come with us until we confirm what is going on," he said, his voice emotionless.
Aldwyn's mind raced as he was escorted away, his thoughts torn between the horror of the king's murder and the safety of the princess. The guards marched him through the corridors, their footsteps echoing in the silence like the ticking of a doomsday clock.
Suddenly, he heard the soft patter of footsteps approaching them. His heart leapt as he recognized the unmistakable sound of the princess's silk slippers. "Your Highness!" he called out, hope and fear warring within him.
Elezabeth emerged from the shadows, her face a mask of horror and anger. "Guards," she said, her voice trembling, "this man, Lord Aldwyn Lyrendis, has killed my father!"
Aldwyn stared at her, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. "Your Highness, no, what are you talking about..."
"Guards, take him!" she screamed, her voice a knife in the silence. "This traitor has killed my father and was going to do the same to me!"
The guards moved swiftly, grabbing his arms and forcing him to his knees. The world spun around him as the reality of the accusation sank in. "Elezabeth, no, it's not true," he managed to choke out, but the words were lost in the chaos.
Her gaze was cold and distant, the warmth from their earlier conversation vanished like mist in the morning sun. "You will pay for your treachery, Aldwyn," she said, her voice a whisper that chilled him to his core.
....
A few days later, the main square of Sylphorath had transformed from a place of victory celebration to one of morbid anticipation. The grand stage that once held the triumphant speeches now loomed like a silent sentinel of justice, draped in somber black. The gleaming cobblestones reflected the grim faces of the citizens, who had gathered in droves to witness the executions of those accused of treason. The air was thick with tension and the acrid scent of fear.
First up was the entire staff of the Lyrendis family, including Mariel. Her eyes, usually filled with warmth and kindness, were now vacant and resigned as she was brought out in chains. The crowd murmured as they recognized her.
"Mariel, the traitor's whore!" someone spat, and the words hit Aldwyn like a blow to the gut. She didn't flinch, didn't even look at him as she was led to the chopping block.
Aldwyn struggled against his own restraints, his eyes locked on her as he roared, "This is madness! She is innocent!" But his protests were drowned out by the chant of the bloodthirsty mob.
The executioner, a burly man with a cruel smile, raised his axe high above her head. Time seemed to slow as Aldwyn watched, his heart shattering into a million pieces.
"NO!" he bellowed. But it was too late. The axe fell with a sickening thud, and Mariel's head rolled away from her body, her eyes staring lifelessly into the abyss.
Aldwyn felt a scream tear through him, but no sound came out. The world around him turned red, and all he could see was the blood that spurted from her neck. The crowd's chanting grew frenzied, their hunger for vengeance insatiable.
The next face that emerged from the shadows was one he had hoped never to see in this context—his father, Lord Meredris. His proud features were twisted in anger, his eyes blazing with accusation.
"Father, what have they done to you?" Aldwyn's voice was raw with pain as he watched his father, once the epitome of strength and dignity, now shackled and humiliated before the very people they had fought to protect.
Lord Meredris' eyes, once filled with the fire, were now glazed over with defeat. His once powerful frame was frail, his armor stolen, leaving him in a tattered, blood-soaked tunic that barely clung to his bruised body. The crowd's jeers grew louder as he stumbled onto the stage, pushed by the guards who held him upright.
"Mercy," Aldwyn choked out, his voice strained with desperation. But it was a plea to the deaf. The executioner, his axe still dripping from Mariel's blood, took his place before Lord Meredris, his stance unyielding.
Meredris looked up at the crowd, his eyes meeting Aldwyn's for a brief, agonizing moment. "Farewell, my son," he murmured, his voice barely carrying over the din. "Remember..." But the rest of his words were lost as the axe swung down, a swift and brutal arc that ended in a final, echoing thud.
The crowd erupted into a cacophony of cheers and jeers as the lifeblood of House Lyrendis spilled out onto the cold stones. Aldwyn's vision blurred with tears, his soul screaming out in anguish. His father's head rolled to a stop at the edge of the stage, staring back at him with a final, silent accusation.