CHAPTER 96

  THE SEEPING CORRUPTION

  The war had not been waged with swords, but against the rot festering within the heart of Clandor. Queen Reina had turned her wrath inward—her hidden blades striking down the true culprits.

  The corruption plagued her court, her cities, and her people had been torn up by its roots. Where bribes once whispered louder than prayers, Reina wanted justice to echo through every corner.

  She had prepared for this long before the civil war. Yet until now, the whole elven land had never truly been hers to command. Noble interference, just as the Elven Council. But that had been changed since the division.

  The external powers were now allies. Even Parv had opened diplomatic ties. But when she first resolved to begin this crusade, no spark came to light the fire.

  The highborns bought the fuel. And Theodred struck the match.

  Yet Reina hungered for more than executions and vanishing nobles. Punishment, in her eyes, was not vengeance—it had to be a crucible for reform. She wanted to let others know that there was worse than death waiting by the doors if they broke the sanctity of her rule.

  Her wrath against what is wrong already had borne some fruit.

  Ministers long exiled from power began to step forward—offering insights, solutions, and unity. The Elven world was beginning to heal. All but a few rotten branches still clung to their fear, busy trying to save their own skins.

  And now, time had come for the court and her to make some big decisions.

  In the high chamber, where they waited, silence reigned. Only the quiet breath of those present stirred the stillness. Sunlight, on the other hand, chose to stream through stained glass, casting coloured sigils upon the cold stone floor—and across Queen Reina’s polished throne.

  Scattered decrees and fresh reports lay on the table.

  And Captain Nym of Elites. Her armour bore no excess, no flamboyant marks of status—only the sigil of the Flying Swan, etched cleanly across her breastplate. She knelt, her voice firm.

  “Your Majesty. The audit is complete. Every province, every shadow. I bring the truth.”

  Reina’s gaze sharpened—not with suspicion, but readiness.

  “Speak, Captain Nym. I will not flinch.”

  The captain rose, exhaled, and began.

  “The court is not yours alone. It is a theatre of manipulation. Ministers conspire, cloaked in protocols. Your name—your authority—is used to sanctify their schemes. They say the Queen rules the Clandor. But Clandor bows to its shadows.”

  Reina’s gaze turned to ice—but it was the kind that forms only in the heart of fire.

  “Then the shadows will burn,” she hissed, her voice low, trembling with wrath barely caged. “A beggar who steals a loaf may be forgiven. He is a child of hardship—unlearned, desperate, blind to law. But these ministers—” Her voice rose like a storm. “They are not ignorant. They are not desperate. They are educated. Groomed in privilege, versed in law. And still—they chose to betray.”

  She stood now, the throne creaking behind her as her presence filled the chamber like thunderclouds gathering.

  “There will be no pardons.”

  Her words rang like hammer blows.

  “Every minister who acted without my consent shall be stripped of title, land, and legacy. Their names shall be unspoken in noble halls. They will be sent to the very villages they starved—to lay stone, dig canals, teach in the schools they never funded. They will sweat for justice—not bleed for pardon.”

  Then, her tone darkened— like an iron wrapped in flame.

  “And let this be clear. If they refuse? Execute. If they resist? Execute. If they dare scoff—Executed. Not as nobles. Not as martyrs. But as traitors to the realm.”

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  The high chamber quietened further. Not a breath dared break her fury. Even the light from the stained glass seemed to retreat, leaving only shadows trembling before the Queen’s wrath.

  For the first time, Reina held absolute power over her domain. And she was making it known.

  She gave a subtle gesture.

  “Continue.” She said, sitting back.

  Nym nodded slowly, while a minister in the gallery gave a hoarse croak—and then fell silent.

  “It will be done,” she said. “But that is only the first thorn.”

  She unrolled a scroll but did not read. Every word already lived in her memory.

  “Slavery persists, my Queen. Veiled behind legality. They call it debt labour, indenture, ancestral duty—even honour. Names change. Chains remain. Nobles buy and sell flesh in secret. Some have built entire fortunes on the backs of invisible blood.”

  Hearing this, Reina’s fingers curled tightly around her sword’s hilt. She was the queen, yet love for her husband was holding her back. Highborns were loyal to her and family by law. How righteous she might have been, she couldn’t bring sadness to him.

  Seeing her queen silent, Nym’s tone darkened. “The nobility has withered into arrogance. Obsessed with collecting false honours—”

  “I’ve dealt with that.” Reina cut in, her voice like iron. “Highborns will see there are no slavers remaining, none shall live as slaves. They are to put justice. That’s their penance for not running their household clean. Next.”

  Nym knew what she meant. Family was family after all. Her gaze hardened since she couldn’t bring the true culprits to justice.

  “I said, Next, Captain Nym.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” Nym spoke. “Magic—It is bound by noble law. Commoners caught casting and crafting are imprisoned—or worse. Magic education is hoarded, made sacred, and sold to the highest noble heir. A prime example: a gifted prodigy born in our lands now serves a Parvian prince.”

  “The mana in the blood is no privilege,” Reina replied. “It is a birthright. That thorn has long festered in my side. I couldn’t act before because this land needed them. Make an example—imprison every conspirator involved in the Vanir Dorfeil affair. Execute the highest authority.”

  “She is on a warpath,” Delimira whispered, and Chris nodded beside her.

  A long silence fell between queen and captain.

  “What of the humans?” Reina asked softly. “Why are they being trafficked into our lands?”

  “Your Majesty…” Nym’s voice turned grave. “Humans are less sensitive to mana. Unlike us, they are more resistant to it. Mage researchers claim they are ideal fortesting. They say their bodies are similar to lesser races—Lizardians, Tuskars...”

  “I care nothing for such excuses,” Reina snapped. Her tone turned cold as winter. “We must not give humans a reason to unite against us. Parv is a headache enough. Silence them. Every one.”

  Nym bowed once more, deeper this time.

  “As you command.”

  As her orders spread, Delimira and Chris rose from their seats. Though tentative members of the elites, mandating their apprenticeship. They followed the captain for the very purpose.

  Not much had passed and the elites struck swiftly, with the precision of those who now understood their full authority. The corrupt were not simply cast down—they were reshaped.

  Some died, made examples of. Others were punished to redeem. They toiled in the lands they had poisoned. They taught those they had oppressed. They rebuilt what they had broken.

  Clandor bled. But at last, it began to heal.

  Weeks passed. The purge stretched into its second month. When the final corrupted noble was dragged from sanctuary, Reina ascended to the high halls.

  “Bring him to me.” She ordered, sitting down on her throne, now majestic and proud.

  The great hall shimmered with the light of renewal. Ministers stood beside generals, nobles beside scribes, all drawn by a single, impossible rumour: That the man of prophecy would soon be revealed.

  The great doors opened.

  And Theodred entered.

  He bore the marks of solitude, but not of surrender. His stance was proud, his gaze unwavering. A faint aura of light pulsed around him—answering, just barely, to the Queen’s own. A resonance of royalty.

  He looked at Reina with eyes no one could read.

  “So, my time has come,” he said, accepting the death that had been offered to him.

  It was a ruse—and he played it well. But something in Reina shifted. Her gaze sharpened,

  suddenly precise, as if it could cut through his facade.

  “Who taught you the sword?” she asked.

  “No one,” he replied. “It came to me—as if it had been waiting.”

  There was a strange weight to his words, a quiet prophecy folded within them. And because they were true, Reina found no reason to doubt him.

  “What do you want to do with your power?” She asked.

  "What will I do with it?” He paused, glancing at the calloused hands that forged through rigorous training—not in pride, but in memory.

  “I’ve read, a knight must bear the power like a torch in the dark. Not to set fire, but to give light. But.” He paused again, raising his head levelling to Reina’s sight.

  “Power is a heavy thing—it tempts you to stand taller, speak louder, demand more. I won’t be a knight to tower over others. I will only kneel before what’s right—I’ll use that power to make sure fewer people ever need someone like me.”

  His gaze met Reina’s, troubled, confused. Every word he spoke he lived by those words, at least as a knight. There was no malice, nothing false, only truth. He smiled—for the first time. The objective had been achieved.

  “That’s what I’ll do,” he said, as his Grade Ten aura rippled outward in visible pulses.