The night was spent in grim preparation for the final assault on the pirates the next morning. It was supposed to be a complete and decisive battle- a strict do-or-die situation for everyone left alive within the walls.
By dawn, every Veridian Guard and Throne Guard had gathered in front of the Auric Spire. The Lord was supposed to step out, deliver a fierce rallying speech, and lead them off to purge the blight of pirates from their motherland once and for all. All the civilians and Nobles who had been cooped up inside the Gold Wall for days were bustling with anticipation, desperate to return to their homes and rebuild their lives. They crowded around the forming lines to wish the soldiers well and cheer them on. The nobles and high officials stood in tight clusters to the left and right of the dais where Lorian was expected to appear.
Inside his room, Lorian was growing restless. It wasn't just the tension of the upcoming battle that had him on edge. Something else had been gnawing at the back of his mind since yesterday- the strange, impossible words Rylan had spoken before his end. The dead traitor somehow knew Lorian's true identity as Adrian Sterling, as well as his deep connection to the Devil of Greed. Lorian tried mentally to reach out to Azal'Gul, but the demon gave no response. Worse, he could not summon the Slot Machine either. The only saving grace was that the rewards he had already earned and stored were still accessible. Even so, he didn't dare touch them, terrified that drawing on that strange power might send a signal to some higher entity and strip away everything he had left- or worse.
There was no time to dwell on supernatural mysteries anymore. Right now, he had to deal with the living.
He was in the middle of strapping on his greaves when a sharp knock was made against the heavy oak door. Lorian frowned, and spoke in irritated voice, "Yes, yes, coming..."
A Throne Guard spoke from the other side, "My Lord, we have messengers at the gate. They seek an audience."
Lorian paused, his brow furrowed deep, "Messengers? In the middle of all this?"
"Y-yes... My Lord..." the guard stammered, "They are... they are from the pirates."
"Let them come inside, but keep them held at the forecourt," Lorian commanded, pulling his tunic straight, "I'll be there in a few minutes."
Lorian stepped out into the sunlit forecourt, where a large circle of armed guards and anxious citizens had already formed. Standing in the middle were six men wearing plain, stoic masks. However, the sheer terror in their eyes was obvious to anyone who looked closely. They were entirely unarmed. Two of them clutched heavy wooden boxes wrapped in thick red velvet.
The eldest of the six, clearly acting as their leader, hurried forward. The surrounding Throne Guards instantly pointe their spears in his direction, blocking his path and stopping him on his track.
The man dropped to his knees promptly, and the scruffy men behind him hit the floor right alongside him.
He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple could be seen throbbing sharply- as he stared up at Lorian. His hands were shaking, but he forced them flat against his thighs, trying to look steady and respectable while every instinct in his body screamed at him to run.
"My... my Lord King," the man stammered, his rough, salt-crusted voice cracked slightly before he cleared his throat and tried to smooth out his tone, "We... that is to say, we ain't here to cause no further trouble. We come on behalf of a full surrender. Far too much blood's been spilled over this foolishness. We're just pirates by trade, see? We don't normally go around storming grand palaces. It was that bloody Pirate Queen and her damn boy who dragged us into this whole mess against our better judgment. Why, just yesterday we had ourselves a proper... ah, an internal mutiny, and we went ahead and relieved her of her command."
Lorian did not reply. He just stared down at them, his eyes were cold and unblinking,- like a stone statue. In his mind, he channeled the imposing, unyielding presence of his late father, Elmsworth Throne, letting the heavy, suffocating silence stretch out until the messenger's skin practically crawled off his bones.
The man swallowed hard, a fresh bead of cold sweat could be seen trailing down his temple. Realizing his smooth words weren't buying him safe passage, his forced diplomacy cracked, and his rough, desperate nature revealed itself.
He dipped his head lower, shaking it nervously, "I... I know, my King. I know we brought this fire on ourselves, and we're the culprits who swung the blades. But please... think on it. We were just the dogs at the end of the leash, not the ones pulling it. Have mercy on us, your grace. As a token of our true repentance, we've brought you the real masterminds. The villains who hatched this whole wretched plot."
He whipped around and snapped his fingers at his trembling comrades. Two burly pirates stepped forward, carrying the heavy boxes. They dropped them hard at the feet of the guards flanking Lorian. The wood clattered sharply against the blood-stained stone before the men snatched the thick red cloths off the top.
Two severed heads rolled slightly inside the boxes with the momentum, coming to a heavy rest in the dim light.
One belonged to a woman with matted red hair, her face looked eerily peaceful, as if she were merely sleeping. The other was a sharp, pale, painfully familiar face- Lyssian Throne.
"The ex-Pirate Empress and her brat," the messenger babbled on, his voice was getting louder as his panic mounted, pointing a shaking finger down at the box, "They're the ones who shoved us into this madness. They're your real culprits, my King! We didn't just strip 'em of their titles- we took their heads off clean to prove our sincerity. Now... please. Stop the slaughter, and let us walk."
Lorian let out a long, slow breath, closing his eyes for a moment before rolling his head back. Then, in a low, commanding voice that carried across the courtyard, he declared, "Before I pass my decision, I want to hear what my people have to say. They have suffered greatly, and I want to hear their thoughts- not that it will sway my final judgment unless someone offers a genuinely compelling argument, but I want to understand where their minds and hearts lie."
The crowd of Veridians and the trapped pirates alike stirred in surprise at the Lord's strange request, though by now they were growing accustomed to his unorthodox methods. One by one, the people began to speak.
Only a handful of voices argued in favor of accepting the surrender and stopping the bloodshed- mostly newly appointed nobles and wealthy merchants.
The rest of the crowd- commoners, a large block of established nobles, and every single military man present, from the Throne Guards to the Veridian Guards- fiercely opposed any mercy. They demanded the total and brutal annihilation of the pirates. It was painfully clear what the majority wanted.
Lorian stood in silence, genuinely shocked. He had assumed the commoners, having endured the worst of the terror, would want peace above all else just to return to their normal lives. He had figured the soldiers, too, would welcome an end to the slaughter so they wouldn't have to risk their lives again. But standing there, he realized once more how entirely irrelevant his old world's ideals were in this brutal reality. Now he finally understood why, even in his old world, mass murderers and warmongers were often celebrated as glorious warriors. Perhaps a fierce bloodlust and a hunger for conflict were simply woven into the dark fabric of human nature, and it was only the comfortable, sheltered safety of his past life that had made people there hate war. Yet, even as he thought it, a bitter memory flickered in his mind- just before he died, his old world had been tearing itself apart in a devastating global conflict, with whispers of a third great war spreading like wildfire.
He drifted in his thoughts for a moment until Elara gave him a subtle, nudge in his back from behind; as she well used to the way he would suddenly zone out, by now.
Lorian blinked, shaking his head to clear the fog, and turned his attention back to the groups who had spoken.
First, he addressed the faction pushing for peace and mercy. He noticed that nearly all of the nobles in that group were newly minted lords who had only recently gained their status. They were desperate to hold onto their sudden wealth and terrified of risking it in a prolonged war. Furthermore, because word had spread that the young lord despised senseless slaughter, these opportunists had assumed Lorian wanted peace and rushed to agree with him, hoping to score political favor. One of those ambitious nobles had even gone too far, suggesting not only letting the pirates walk, but actively recruiting them to boost Veridia's depleted military and naval numbers. At that suggestion, the pirate messengers had perked up, looking dangerously hopeful.
Then, Lorian turned to the majority. Their demands were stark and unforgiving- absolute vengeance. They wanted the blood of the men who had dared to threaten Veridia, who had murdered their families and burned their homes. Some voices in the crowd even shouted for the pirates to be flayed alive, their skin hung from the city walls and border posts as a grim warning to anyone who ever thought of crossing Veridia again. To them, showing mercy or letting the murderers walk free was a direct insult to the dead and a betrayal of the realm.
The color drained entirely from the messengers' faces as they listened to the terrifying consensus of the crowd. Trembling, they looked back up at the young king, desperately praying that some corner of his heart still held a shred of mercy.