The Throned Crown

Aelric woke before dawn, his body alert despite the restless hours spent replaying Cassiel's words in his mind. The prince was testing him, circling like a hawk watching for the slightest weakness. Aelric had spent years perfecting his mask—there was no room for mistakes now.

He dressed quickly, the crisp black-and-silver uniform provided by the palace fitting snugly against his frame. It was a stark reminder of his position: a foreign soldier wrapped in Thalorian colors, a wolf cloaked in sheep's skin.

But a wolf, nonetheless.

When the knock came at his door, Aelric's hand was already on the hilt of his dagger.

"Enter," he said, his voice steady.

The door creaked open, revealing a young steward with wide eyes and trembling hands. "The crown prince requests your presence, General."

Aelric gave a sharp nod, fastening his sword belt as he stepped past the boy. "Where is he?"

"The stables, sir."

The stables? Aelric frowned but said nothing. Instead, he followed the steward through the winding halls and out into the crisp morning air. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting the palace grounds in shades of gold and crimson.

When they reached the stables, Aelric spotted Cassiel immediately. The prince stood near the largest stallion Aelric had ever seen, its coat a sleek black that shimmered faintly in the light. Cassiel's hand rested on the animal's neck, his posture relaxed but commanding.

"General Thorne," Cassiel said without looking up. "You're early."

"Punctuality is a soldier's habit," Aelric replied, stepping closer.

Cassiel turned then, his storm-gray eyes locking onto Aelric's. "Good. It means you'll keep up."

"Keep up?"

Cassiel's lips twitched into a faint smirk. "We're riding out. I trust you can handle a horse."

Aelric bristled at the unspoken challenge but kept his tone measured. "I've been riding since I could walk."

"Excellent." Cassiel mounted the stallion with practiced ease, his movements fluid and precise. "The terrain ahead isn't forgiving. I hope your skills match your words."

Aelric mounted the smaller horse waiting for him, his mind already racing. Where was the prince taking him? And why?

The ride began in silence, the steady rhythm of hooves against the earth the only sound between them. They rode out of the palace grounds and into the dense forest that bordered the city. The trees loomed tall and shadowed, their gnarled branches clawing at the pale sky.

"Do you know this forest, General?" Cassiel asked, his voice cutting through the quiet.

"No, Your Highness."

"It's older than the kingdom itself," Cassiel said, his tone distant. "A place of secrets and ghosts. The perfect place to bury the past."

Aelric's grip tightened on the reins. "A poetic sentiment."

Cassiel glanced back at him, a glimmer of something unreadable in his eyes. "Do you think so?"

Before Aelric could respond, Cassiel spurred his horse forward, the stallion surging ahead with a burst of speed. Aelric cursed under his breath and followed, the trees blurring around him as he pushed his mount to keep up.

The chase ended abruptly as they emerged into a clearing. Aelric reined in his horse, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

A small group of soldiers stood waiting, their armor gleaming in the morning light. In the center of the clearing, a man knelt in the dirt, his hands bound behind his back. His face was battered, blood streaking his jaw.

Aelric dismounted, his gaze flicking to Cassiel. The prince had already dismounted, his expression cold and unreadable.

"This man," Cassiel said, his voice sharp, "is a traitor."

The kneeling man lifted his head, his swollen eyes locking onto Aelric's. There was something familiar about him—a fleeting memory Aelric couldn't quite place.

Cassiel stepped closer, his sword drawn. The steel glinted in the sunlight as he rested the blade against the man's throat.

"Traitors don't deserve mercy," Cassiel said, his gaze shifting to Aelric. "Wouldn't you agree, General?"

Aelric's heart pounded in his chest, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He forced himself to remain calm, his mind racing. Was this another test? A trap?

"I agree," Aelric said carefully, his voice steady. "Mercy only emboldens disloyalty."

Cassiel's lips curved into a faint smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Then prove it."

Aelric's blood turned to ice. "What?"

"Prove your loyalty," Cassiel said, tossing the sword to him. Aelric caught it on reflex, the weight of the blade heavier than it should have been.

"Execute him."

The clearing fell silent, the soldiers watching with muted interest as Aelric stared at the man before him. The bound prisoner's eyes pleaded with him, but his lips remained sealed.

Aelric's grip tightened on the hilt of the sword. His mind raced, calculating the risks, the consequences. If he refused, Cassiel would see through him. But if he followed through, he'd be taking an innocent life.

Cassiel's voice broke through his thoughts.

"What's the matter, General? I thought you said mercy emboldens disloyalty."

Aelric looked up, meeting Cassiel's cold, expectant gaze. The prince's challenge was clear: Prove your loyalty—or die as a traitor yourself.

For the first time since arriving at the palace, Aelric felt the full weight of the game he was playing. And he realized something chilling.

Cassiel wasn't just testing him.

The prince was toying with him.