Chapter 11: The Return of the Exile
The gates of the capital loomed big as Alaric rode approached them, flanked by the warriors who had battled alongside him. The once-exiled noble now returned to the kingdom not as a disgraced heir, but as a revered military hero. His exploits on the battlefield had garnered him acclaim and admiration throughout the army, and now even the court couldn't refute his brilliance. The men behind him rode with their heads held high, happy to be under his direction. But Alaric, though outwardly calm, felt a storm developing inside.
The sight of the capital awakened memories that had long festered in his memory. It was here, in these same streets, that he had once been cast out, stripped of his title and banished from his own life. It was here that Edwin had triumphed, that his cousin had seized everything from him. Now, Alaric returned, but the victory that should have felt delicious was tainted with bitterness. Though he had earned his position in the realm again, the betrayal that had pushed him into exile still hung over him like a heavy cloud.
As they passed through the gates, the inhabitants of the city lined the streets, cheering for the returning warriors. They raised flags, hurled flowers, and screamed Alaric's name. But the cheers felt hollow to him. These were the same folks who had turned their backs on him when he needed them most. They had believed the lies, the allegations, and had let him fall without inquiry. Now, they celebrated him, unconscious of the fire that still raged inside him.
Alaric's musings were interrupted by the sound of hooves approaching from the opposite direction. He turned to see a small force of riders coming to meet them, their banners flying the colors of the Valemont estate. At the front of the group was Edwin, his cousin's visage a carefully maintained mask of politeness. But Alaric could see the calculating behind his gaze, the calm triumph that had lingered from years ago.
"Alaric," Edwin welcomed him as he dismounted, his voice silky as ever. "Welcome back to the capital. It seems your reputation precedes you. The kingdom owes you a significant obligation for your service."
Alaric dismounted as well, his look unreadable as he confronted Edwin for the first time in years. The last time they had stood together, Alaric had been a broken man, bereft of everything. Now, he was a leader, a war hero—but the treachery still stood between them, an unspoken abyss that could never be crossed.
"Edwin," Alaric responded, his voice measured. "It's been a long time."
Edwin grinned, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Indeed. And much has changed since you departed. But I see you've established quite the name for yourself. The court is anxious to hear of your victories."
Alaric's jaw stiffened. He could sense the tension between them, crackling like a faraway storm. Edwin talked with the ease of a man who believed he had already won, but Alaric knew better. His cousin's dominion over the Valemont estate was built on lies, and Alaric had come not simply to recover his place, but to reveal the truth.
"The court may celebrate victory," Alaric murmured, his eyes locking onto Edwin's, "but I haven't forgotten what happened here."
Edwin's smile faltered, only for a second. The words were a warning, a reminder that Alaric's return was not merely a victorious homecoming—it was the beginning of a reckoning. But Edwin swiftly recovered, his countenance softening back into one of polite disinterest.
"I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to discuss the past," Edwin replied, his tone light. "But for now, let's focus on the present. You've been away for so long, there's much to catch up on."
The subtle power play in Edwin's statements wasn't missed on Alaric. His cousin intended to remind him of his absence, of the years he had spent in exile while Edwin had consolidated his hold on the Valemont estate. But Alaric wasn't the same man who had been sent out all those years before. He had changed—hardened by conflict, honed by loss. And he had no intention of allowing Edwin to continue dominating unfettered.
As they rode together approaching the palace, the tension between them only intensified. Edwin spoke about the changes in the court, the shifting alliances and new power players who had emerged in Alaric's absence. But Alaric's mind was elsewhere, focused on the work ahead. He realized that returning to the kingdom wasn't enough. He needed to restore his title, his property, his honor. And to achieve that, he would have to confront the complex web of lies that Edwin had spun.
When they arrived at the palace, Alaric was hailed by the court with open arms. The nobility, eager to ally themselves with a rising war hero, welcomed him back as though nothing had ever occurred. They celebrated his victories, showered him with accolades, and murmured promises of future alliances. But Alaric saw through their flattery. These were the same nobles who had abandoned him when Edwin had planned his downfall. Their loyalties fluctuated with the wind, and Alaric knew better than to trust their words.
As the court gathered for a feast in his honor, Alaric kept a discreet distance from the celebrations. He observed as Edwin glided through the crowd, beguiling the nobility with practiced ease. It was evident that Edwin had weaved himself into the fabric of the kingdom's power structure. But Alaric also observed the cracks—the subtle tensions between certain lords, the silent unhappiness that simmered under the surface. There were those who didn't trust Edwin, who saw through his attractive façade.
Later that evening, while the revelry proceeded, Edwin approached Alaric once again. This time, there was no pretense of courtesy in his expression. His voice was low, his words filled with threat.
"I know why you're really here, cousin," Edwin murmured quietly, his gaze hardening. "But don't think for a moment that you can take back what you've lost. The Valemont estate is mine now. You gave up your claim to it when you were exiled."
Alaric's gaze tightened. "I was forced out. And I'm not here to beg for scraps, Edwin. I'm coming to recover what's mine."
The tension between them was palpable, a deadly undercurrent that threatened to explode. Edwin's eyes blazed with wrath, but he quickly concealed it with a smile.
"We'll see about that," Edwin responded, his voice dripping with hate. "But don't forget—I've had years to solidify my position. You're not the only one who knows how to fight."
Alaric didn't flinch. He had encountered considerably worse than Edwin on the battlefield. And now, the real war was just beginning.