The War (All Chapters + Synopsis)

Chapter 3.2 - Amalia

I'm surprised to find that my sleeping quarters are very close to the large throne room that I was first brought to. Large wooden doors are set at random intervals along the left side of the hallway, windows are set on the right.

After a number of long stone corridors the guards stop in front of the largest door I've seen so far. The porters posted outside the door rush to open it. Inside I see tables in ten neat rows with a large table far in the back. The large table at the back, has a throne in the center and dozens of chairs set evenly around it. There's more red-velvet hanging from the walls and ceiling like curtains. Glittering and elaborately designed chandeliers shower golden light on the people beneath.

The king and his sister are absent from the dining hall when the guards escort me in. All the conversations in the room come to a halt as I enter. Their stares follow me, and I do my best not to show the tremor of fear that runs through me at the thought of being surrounded by so many enemies.

I see some angry looks, and hear the sounds of grumbles, hisses, and curses, all of them aimed at me. I see angry tears, and people who look ready to pounce on me should I dare to flinch. All of them look mostly human though.

Their unnatural eyes with those prominent black slits, and the slightly elongated canines are inhuman for sure, but their faces still look mostly human. None of them have horns or claws or tails or scaled skin.

I realize that some of those stares are not of anger or resentment, but of fear. For the first time in my life, I realize that the enemy I was so eager to call monsters, think of me as a monster as well, because my soldiers and I have killed their loved ones and friends just as many times as they have mine.

The guards seat me in a chair two places to the left of the throne. A trumpet blares out from the great door that I entered through, distracting me from the ornate dining set up and the emotional stares. Porters dressed in the Conclamata colors open the great oak doors carefully, and a herald steps forward to introduce those who have now arrived.

"Presenting his Royal Majesty, Supreme Commander Lues Conclamata, the first of that name, King of Feralis, Ruler of Fire and Ash, Duke of Moor. Her royal grace, Lauria Conclamata, Royal Duchess of Xiros, heir presumptive to the throne of Feralis. His grace, Carber Thnitos, Duke of Limani. His lordship Exypnos Evgenis, Count of Ta Ifaisteia." The herald takes a short breath before continuing with the dull introductions, I roll my eyes at the fancy titles as those announced proceed to enter. "His lordship Apaeteon Symvoulos, Viscount of Komit. Her ladyship, Charissa Mellon, Baroness of Ochyro. Her ladyship, General Ilena Conclamata, Knight of Feralis."

The king walks in with his fire-shaped crown resting on his brow. I study the crown as he strides towards the high table at which I'm seated. The crown appears to be made of living flames, and as he comes closer I realize that it is a real fire. It must take an incredible amount of control to have that fire burning as a crown on his head without it burning him. The shining light of the fire bounces off of the medals and military badges pinned to the lapel of his military coat.

The fire casts a burning shade over his blood-red eyes and makes his orange hair seem to glow. His tanned complexion and well toned body show a lifetime spent on a battlefield.

Directly behind him is a girl who looks to be in her twenties with dark brown hair and an elaborately designed tiara on her head. Her dress is made of swaths of white and black with a snug black bodice displaying the Mark of Conclamata in gold thread. I assume this must be the Royal Duchess Lauria, a formidable politician and a dangerous opponent in battle, if she decides to grace the field with her presence.

Behind the Duchess trails a man who looks to be in his mid fifties with dusty brown hair that is neatly tied back into a ponytail. He's dressed from head to toe in spring green and bronze. On his lapel is a bronze sigil that I do not recognize. Nobody after him is much interest to me, except for the last.