R.L Alencar
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Chapter 133 (From engineer to Conqueror part 2)
🕑 Added 2025-05-03 03:45:13 +0000 UTCThe ballroom was filled with a vibrant atmosphere.
Lights from chandeliers and golden sconces illuminated the spacious area,
reflecting off the walls adorned with rich tapestries and paintings depicting
the recent history of Drakmoor. Marble columns supported
a high ceiling, where gold and blue details contrasted harmoniously,
giving the room an air of sophistication without excess.
Guests filled every corner of the hall, dressed in
their finest attire. Local nobles, political allies, and military officials
shared the space with beastmen, who, despite their presence still being
uncommon at events of this kind, mingled naturally. The outfits were
diverse, but all elegant – well-cut coats, refined dresses, and
accessories that gleamed under the soft light. The aroma of wine, fruit, and
spices hung in the air, mingling with the light perfume of the ornamental
flowers scattered throughout the hall.
In the center of the room, a band of bards animated the party.
The musicians played harps, lutes, and flutes, while a singer performed verses
about Miguel's accomplishments, about how Drakmoor had risen against
adversity and become a promising nation. The young king, upon hearing the
verses, smiled slightly. He wasn't the type who enjoyed excessive praise,
but he knew that, deep down, those songs strengthened the spirit of the people and
solidified his image as a leader.
From where he stood, Miguel observed the movement in the hall,
his eyes calmly analyzing the details. It was then that he saw Duke Valmir and
his daughter Cecilia enter. Both were impeccable, wearing attire befitting
their station. The Duke wore a dark suit with discreet embroidery, carrying himself
with the posture of an experienced and calculating man. Cecilia, in turn,
wore a deep wine-colored dress, elegant yet discreet, which
highlighted her refined demeanor without being excessive.
Miguel straightened up and walked towards them,
crossing the hall with firm steps. Conversations slightly quieted
as he passed, a natural sign of respect that had already become habitual.
As he approached, he offered a controlled smile, maintaining formality,
but with sincere cordiality.
"Duke Valmir, Miss Cecilia." He gave a slight
bow of his head. "I hope you are enjoying the evening."
The Duke returned the gesture with an equally polished smile.
"Your Majesty, this is an admirable reception. Drakmoor knows how
to impress."
Cecilia looked around, her expression neutral, but clearly
analyzing every detail of the party.
"It's a well-organized event," she said, her tone polite,
but reserved.
Miguel nodded, pleased with the reception.
"The night is just beginning."
Before he could continue the conversation, he felt a
subtle movement beside him.
Amelia.
For a brief moment, Miguel was almost startled. His sister
had an impressive ability to appear unnoticed.
"Is everything alright?" she asked, observing him closely.
Miguel let out a slight sigh.
"Yes, but I can't wait for all of this to be over."
Amelia gave a small smile.
"Parties have never been your strong suit, have they?"
"Not in the least."
It was only then that Miguel noticed her attire. Different from
her usual military dress, Amelia wore a sophisticated black dress, with
wine-colored details that highlighted her strong and imposing presence. The fabric
was fine but understated, elegantly molding to her firm build.
"You look stunning," Miguel said, genuinely.
She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms.
"Say that again and maybe I'll start to like wearing
dresses."
Miguel chuckled softly.
"I really thought you would never agree to wear something
like this."
Amelia sighed, looking around.
"Well, sometimes it's necessary. I thought I should look a
little more... like a lady."
"And you succeeded."
She smiled and tilted her head slightly.
"You also look like a true king."
Miguel gave a slight nod of his head, thanking her.
But he soon turned his gaze back to the Duke and his daughter, who
were patiently waiting.
"I have to go; they are waiting for me."
Amelia took a small step back.
"Good luck."
Miguel
gave her one last look before heading back to where Valmir and Cecilia
were.
Miguel walked with firm steps towards Duke Valmir. The air
around them seemed a little thick, as if carrying the weight of the
words that were about to be spoken. Duke Valmir looked like a man with
a great burden on his shoulders, his eyes showing deep weariness.
Getting closer, Miguel asked, his voice calm but serious,
how his own brother's life was going, the one who now called himself duke
on his own, without truly having that right.
Valmir took a deep breath before replying, as if he was
gathering courage or simply organizing his thoughts, which seemed
scattered. Then, he told him everything. He explained that Miguel's brother, along with the
king from the kingdom of Ardia, were squeezing the people with very high taxes,
taking money from every home. And, what was worse, they were forcing men
to take up arms and go to a senseless war, to fight against the creatures
that lived in the dark forests and, most painfully, to fight against
Miguel himself. All of this was being done by force, with the army's might.
Miguel let out a long sigh, the air leaving slowly,
laden with discouragement. "My brother... he is lost in the darkness of
power and hatred," Miguel said, his voice low, tinged with clear
sadness. "I simply cannot understand what goes through his head,
what made him turn his back on everything." He raised his eyes to
Valmir, a hint of surprise shining in them. "But your coming here...
that truly caught me completely by surprise. You know, better than anyone,
that if my brother and the king find out you've been here, talking to me...
they'll scream 'treason!' for the world to hear... and you'll lose everything you
have, your lands, your position, everything."
"I know," Valmir agreed, seriousness creasing
his tired face. "But I had no other choice. The king and his brother were already
plotting to bring me down, to take my dukedom from me. And, to be
honest, I have always been against this senseless war. My heart desires the
best for our people, for this land, not more bloodshed." He
leaned in slightly, his voice now a quick whisper. "As soon as I
announce to everyone that my dukedom no longer answers to the king... I will gather
my forces, all the men loyal to me, and attack the army from behind
that they sent marching on Drakmoor. Suddenly, your kingdom will be safer...
and perhaps you can even turn the tide in your favor. Without the supply carts
of food, weapons, and everything else that passes through my lands to reach
them, your brother and the king will have no way to continue this fight for very
long."
"It's an... interesting proposal," Miguel commented,
thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on the plan Valmir drew with words in the air.
Duke Valmir continued, his voice taking on another tone, more
firm. "But to seal this agreement, for it to be strong,
unbreakable, and for everyone to see that it is real, I need something in return. I want
you to marry my daughter."
A heavy silence, charged with surprise, fell between them.
Miguel was completely speechless for a moment, caught off guard. Of course, he
knew that in this world, marriages were often arranged, important deals
between powerful families to unite lands and strength. But this...
this was different. It was thrown out like this, in the middle of a dangerous plan of war and
treason.
"I can't... I can't...", Miguel began
to say, his voice hesitating, not quite knowing how to finish the sentence. But Valmir did not
wait for him to finish speaking.
"...at least meet my daughter," the Duke
hurried to say, his voice almost pleading. "She is everything I have of
most precious, my only heir, and I cannot allow anything bad to happen to her
with all this confusion that will come to my dukedom. I want her to stay
here, in Drakmoor, safely, under your protection, while I deal with all
these dangerous matters I mentioned."
Miguel stopped to think for a moment, his mind working
quickly. His gaze flew to the young woman who stood there, discreetly, beside her father –
Cecilia. He looked at her for a second, then turned back to face Duke Valmir,
making his decision. He responded, choosing his words carefully, so there would be
no misunderstanding: "Alright. She can stay here, in Drakmoor. She will have a safe
place." He paused, thinking about the Duke's other words.
"But about marrying her... that... I need to think more about that. I don't
want to force her to marry me if she doesn't want to, nor marry someone
I don't truly know yet, who I don't know on the
inside."
"I understand, King Miguel," said Valmir,
relieved that that part of the agreement had been accepted, even if the other remained
on hold.
-------
It was the next day. Late afternoon sunlight streamed
through the high windows of Miguel's office, painting the wooden floor with
dusty golden stripes. The air smelled of old parchment and a little cold
smoke from the extinguished fireplace. Miguel stood there, holding a glass of
wine in his hand. The dark liquid swayed gently as he moved
just enough to look outside. His eyes scanned the view below – the rooftops, the narrow streets, the strong wall he had ordered built.
That city... the city he was raising and protecting with all his
strength... it had become the most important place in the world to him,
everything he truly possessed.
Amelia, his sister, was sitting in a soft armchair near
the window, looking at the same view, but with a more distant gaze. The
silence between them was heavy, full of thoughts that hung in the air like the
golden dust. It was Amelia who broke it, her voice calm, but with a tone of
unwavering certainty. "You know, don't you?" she said, turning her head towards him. "You know you have to accept Duke Valmir's proposal." She paused briefly. "I know the Duke and his daughter.
They are people of their word. They won't betray you. And, believe me, they are
more than desperate to come here, to find safety by our side."
"But...", Miguel began, frowning, his voice
sounding a little strained. "Marrying that girl... I barely know her.
I don't..."
Amelia finished the sentence for him, without judgment in her voice.
"...you don't love her? Miguel," she said. "You are no longer the young man
who could follow his heart without thinking about the consequences. You are the king now. And
a king... well, sometimes a king has to do things that the man within him didn't
want to do. You need to accept that. It's a political marriage, an agreement of
land and power to protect our people. And who's to say you won't, one
day, find someone you truly love and marry her as well? But right now,
at this exact moment, we have no choice. We need Duke Valmir and the strength
he brings with him." She leaned forward slightly in the armchair, her gaze fixed
and serious. "Our brother's men, they are learning. Soon, very soon,
they will get used to the new weapons you created, they will find a way
to fight against them. And we... our supplies are dwindling fast. We don't
have enough to sustain this fight forever. With each passing day,
more of our soldiers, our own people, are falling on the battlefield." A shadow passed over her face. "And don't expect help from
outside anytime soon. The beastmen and dwarves on the southern islands... they have their
own problems and won't be sending us soldiers now."
Miguel looked back at the city through the window, every
word of Amelia echoing in his mind. It was a cold and hard truth, but he
knew she was right. He felt the weight of the crown, of the kingdom, on his
shoulders. He let out the breath he was holding, a decision forming in his eyes, a
painful resignation. "I'll do it then," he said, his voice a little
hoarse, as if he had to swallow something bitter and heavy. He turned to her
again, a sincere look on his tired face. "But... thank you, Amelia. Really. Thank you for being here with me. Knowing that I'm not alone... that
helps carry this burden. I... I have to swallow the fear. I never asked
for any of this that's happening, I never wanted this life..."
Amelia faced him, her gaze serious, but there was a new
softness in it. "You didn't ask for it," she said, her voice calm and firm.
"But it came to you. As if the gods had thrown this into your lap,
a great blessing or perhaps a heavy curse... and now you have to deal
with it. But you won't be alone in this fight. Not anymore." She paused,
and then, unexpectedly, her voice changed, became softer, almost
hesitant. "And I... I'm sorry, Miguel." She seemed truly
to mean it. "I'm sorry for being so hard on you for so long,
for looking down on you just because... just because you were called a
bastard. But you... you have proven to be stronger, more worthy, more of a king than
any of us ever were."
