Lord of the Foresaken
Chapter 60: THE ROYAL CONSPIRACY

Chapter 60: THE ROYAL CONSPIRACY

The fetid stench of decay hung in the air of the abandoned undercroft beneath the eastern wing of the Royal Palace. Reed crouched in the shadows, his breathing controlled despite the miasma that surrounded him. Beside him, Shia remained perfectly still, her silver-blue hair concealed beneath a hood of charmed fabric that absorbed light rather than reflecting it.

"Are you certain of what you saw?" Reed whispered, his voice barely audible even in the silence.

Shia nodded once, her eyes never leaving the ornate door across the chamber. "The prince entered this passage three nights consecutively. Each time, he carried a leather-bound case stained with what could only be blood."

Four days had passed since the trap at the Whispering Grotto. Reed and a fraction of his forces had managed to escape the portal before it collapsed completely, but many had not been so fortunate. Lady Serena’s knights and half his goblin elite squad had been lost—either killed outright or trapped on the other side. The memory of their screams as the portal imploded still haunted his nights.

"Lord Vermillion’s information matches what we’ve observed," Reed mused, touching the artifact at his belt—one of the few that still functioned after the ambush. "But I find it difficult to believe the Crown Prince himself is orchestrating this."

"Believe it," came a gravelly voice from behind them.

Reed spun, blade half-drawn before he recognized Magnus emerging from a hidden alcove. The old warrior looked worse than Reed had ever seen him—one eye now covered with a leather patch, his once-imposing frame diminished by recent wounds.

"The Council of Shadows has confirmed it," Magnus continued, settling beside them with a winced effort. "Three separate sources, including one within the prince’s personal retinue."

The "Council of Shadows" was Reed’s creation—a desperate measure formed after their near-defeat at the Grotto. It consisted of the surviving Lords loyal to their cause, operating in absolute secrecy from various positions throughout the capital. Lady Dalia coordinated their intelligence gathering from a safe house in the merchant quarter, while Lord Everett’s remaining shadow-warriors infiltrated the palace guard.

"What of the king?" Reed asked.

Magnus’s expression darkened. "Catatonic. The royal physicians claim it’s the lingering effect of the attack months ago, but our sources say he hasn’t spoken a coherent word in weeks. The Chancellor rules in his name, with the prince’s backing."

"And the princess?" Shia interjected. "Have you confirmed what the dying Hero told us?"

"We’ve not been able to access the royal apartments," Magnus admitted. "The princess’s chambers are guarded by Heroes who show advanced signs of corruption. None of our agents can approach without detection."

Reed closed his eyes briefly, weighing their dwindling options. The artifact in his possession—a crystalline sphere housing a fragment of the Heart of Aetheria—could penetrate the magical barriers surrounding the royal chambers, but only once before its power would be depleted. They would have one chance, with no possibility of retreat.

"What does the Council advise?" Reed finally asked.

"Caution," Magnus replied immediately. "Lady Dalia believes we lack sufficient evidence to move against the prince. Accusing a royal without irrefutable proof would fracture what little unity remains among the Lords. Many already view you as a traitor for your actions against Lord Karsten and Valencia."

Reed’s jaw tightened. "We don’t have the luxury of caution. Protocol Terminus was delayed by our attack on the Grotto, but Chancellor Royce has rescheduled it for the full moon—three days from now."

"Which is precisely why we need absolute certainty," Magnus insisted. "One misstep, one accusation without proof, and we lose everything."

The three fell silent as footsteps echoed from the corridor beyond the ornate door. Reed signaled for absolute stillness as the door swung open, revealing two figures in hooded robes. The taller one they recognized immediately—Crown Prince Aldric, his regal bearing unmistakable even beneath the concealing garments. The second figure was smaller, moving with a strange, jerking gait that suggested either injury or something far more sinister.

"The preparations are complete, Your Highness," the smaller figure spoke, its voice a discordant whisper that seemed to emanate not from a human throat but from the air around it. "The vessel resists still, but her will weakens with each passing hour."

"My sister always was stubborn," the prince replied, a note of cruel amusement in his tone. "But no matter. When Protocol Terminus severs the final barriers, her resistance will be irrelevant. The Sleeper will claim what was prepared for it centuries before her birth."

"And your reward, Highness?" the creature asked.

Prince Aldric laughed softly. "I retain this realm as regent, of course. When the Sleeper awakens fully within my sister’s form, it will need a trusted servant to enact its will upon the world of men."

Reed felt Shia tense beside him, her hand moving involuntarily toward her weapon. He placed a restraining hand on her arm, silently warning against any premature action. They needed more—needed to know the full extent of the conspiracy before they could act.

The prince and his inhuman companion moved deeper into the undercroft, their voices fading as they passed through another doorway on the far side of the chamber. Only when silence had returned did Reed release the breath he’d been holding.

"That was no Hero," Shia whispered, her face pale in the dim light. "Whatever inhabits that form has never been human."

"An emissary," Reed surmised. "A direct connection to Those Below." He turned to Magnus. "Is this evidence enough for your Council?"

The old warrior’s face was grave. "It confirms the prince’s involvement, but not the extent of the conspiracy within the court. We still don’t know which Lords remain untainted, which could be relied upon if we move against the Crown."

"Then we need more," Reed decided. "We need to see what lies beyond that door."

Magnus’s eye widened. "You can’t be serious. That passage leads directly beneath the throne room. It would be suicide to—"

"Not for all of us," Reed interrupted. "Just me."

Shia stepped forward immediately. "We go together or not at all."

"Your presence would be detected instantly," Reed countered. "The connection between us is what they’re searching for—the anomaly in their system. Alone, with the cloaking artifact, I have a chance of passing unnoticed."

Before either could object further, Reed removed the crystalline sphere from his belt. "If I’m not back by midnight, use this to get clear of the palace. Return to the stronghold and execute contingency plan Ember."

"Reed," Shia began, but he silenced her with a look that conveyed everything words could not—his resolve, his fear, and beneath it all, the depth of feeling that had transformed their Lord-Hero bond into something the ancient entities could neither understand nor corrupt.

"Midnight," he repeated firmly. "Not a moment sooner."

The passage beyond the ornate door descended at a sharp angle, the air growing increasingly thick with a cloying, sweet scent that made Reed’s head swim. He activated the cloaking artifact—a small disc of burnished copper that grew warm against his palm—and felt the familiar disorientation as the enchantment took hold, bending light around his form and dampening the sound of his movement.

The walls of the passage changed gradually, transitioning from worked stone to something more organic in appearance—as if the rock itself had been melted and reshaped by incomprehensible forces. Embedded within these walls, Reed could make out shapes disturbingly similar to human features—a partial face here, the impression of fingers there, as if countless bodies had been absorbed into the very structure.

The passage eventually opened into a vast circular chamber that Reed recognized with dawning horror as being directly beneath the throne room. The floor above—visible through a crystalline material that should not have existed in this age of the world—revealed the underside of the throne itself, now transformed into something monstrous.

What had once been gold and precious gems had become an organic, pulsating mass that extended tendrils downward through the crystal ceiling into the chamber where Reed now stood. These tendrils connected to thirteen altars arranged in a perfect circle, upon each of which lay a body—some still moving, others horrifyingly still.

In the center of the circle stood Prince Aldric and his inhuman companion, now joined by a third figure whose elaborate robes marked him as Chancellor Royce. Between them floated a swirling mass of darkness similar to what Reed had witnessed at the Whispering Grotto, but far larger and more defined—almost solid in its manifestation.

"The final sacrifice approaches readiness," the Chancellor was saying, gesturing to one of the altars where a young woman lay. With a jolt of recognition, Reed identified her as Lady Elara, daughter of Lord Valencia and one of the most celebrated Heroes of her generation. "When her essence joins the others, the gateway will be stable enough for the transference."

"My sister continues to resist," Prince Aldric replied, irritation evident in his tone. "Perhaps a more... persuasive approach is needed."

The inhuman figure moved to one of the altars, placing a hand that was not quite a hand upon the forehead of its occupant. The body convulsed violently before growing still, a faint blue mist rising from it to be absorbed by the swirling darkness above.

"Each willingly surrendered Hero strengthens our position," the creature whispered. "But the royal bloodline remains essential. It was cultivated for fifteen generations specifically for this purpose."

Reed edged closer, the cloaking artifact growing uncomfortably hot against his skin as it worked to maintain his concealment in the presence of such powerful energies. He needed proof—something tangible he could take back to convince even the most skeptical Lords of the threat they faced.

On a pedestal near the edge of the circle lay an ornate book bound in what appeared to be human skin. Reed recognized the symbols embossed on its cover—identical to those found in the cultists’ blood script at the Grotto. If he could secure that tome...

Moving with painstaking slowness, Reed approached the pedestal, careful to avoid the patterns inscribed upon the floor that his instincts warned were detection wards. The conversation between the prince, Chancellor, and the inhuman emissary continued, providing cover for what little sound his movements made.

"The Protocol Terminus preparations are complete," Chancellor Royce was saying. "At precisely midnight on the full moon, every Lord-Hero bond across the kingdom will be severed simultaneously. The resulting energy release will shatter the final seals."

"And my father?" the prince asked.

A cruel smile twisted the Chancellor’s features. "The king has served his purpose. His blood will consecrate the final ritual."

Reed’s blood ran cold at the casual discussion of regicide. He had reached the pedestal now, his fingers hovering just above the grotesque tome. One swift movement and it would be his—irrefutable evidence of the royal conspiracy.

As his hand closed around the book, a sudden silence fell over the chamber. The swirling darkness above the central altar pulsed once, then contracted violently.

"We have an intruder," the inhuman emissary announced, its voice reverberating through Reed’s bones.

The cloaking artifact against Reed’s palm suddenly cracked, its protective enchantment failing as the superior power in the chamber overpowered it. Reed found himself visible, the book clutched in his hand, facing three pairs of eyes—one coldly aristocratic, one calculating and cruel, and one that had never been human at all.

"Lord Reed," Prince Aldric said, seeming more amused than alarmed. "I wondered when you would find your way here. Always so persistent, even as a child."

Reed dropped all pretense of stealth, drawing his sword with his free hand. "This ends now, Aldric. The evidence of your treachery will be known to every Lord in the kingdom by nightfall."

The prince laughed—a sound that began normally but descended into something that echoed wrongly in the chamber. "Evidence? For whom? The Lords are scattered, divided, and most of the powerful ones already serve us." He gestured casually to the surrounding altars. "As you can see."

Reed’s eyes darted to the occupied slabs, recognizing with horror the faces of Lords he had known all his life—men and women of power and influence now reduced to hollow vessels for the entities they had willingly embraced.

"Not all," Reed countered, backing slowly toward the passage entrance. "Enough remain to stand against you when they learn the truth."

The Chancellor stepped forward, his hands moving in complex patterns that caused the air between them to shimmer ominously. "You will not leave this chamber alive, Lord Reed. Your interference ends today."

Reed felt the artifact at his belt—the crystalline sphere containing the Heart fragment—pulse in response to the energies gathering around them. It was meant for escape, not combat, but he had no choice now.

With a swift motion, he slammed the sphere against the ground, releasing its power in a blinding flash of blue-white light. The Chancellor’s spell dissipated as the competing energies collided, and the inhuman emissary shrieked in a frequency that made blood trickle from Reed’s ears.

In the moment of confusion, Reed bolted for the passage, the tome clutched tightly against his chest. Behind him, the prince’s voice rose in fury, commanding guards that had materialized from hidden alcoves to pursue. The pounding of armored feet echoed through the passage as Reed raced upward, his lungs burning with the effort.

He burst through the ornate door to find Shia and Magnus waiting, weapons drawn. "We heard screaming," Shia said, her eyes widening at the sight of the book in his arms.

"No time," Reed gasped. "Palace guards behind me. We need to get this to the Council immediately."

Magnus gestured toward a hidden passage in the undercroft wall. "This way. Lord Everett’s men secured an escape route through the old sewers."

As they fled through the narrow tunnel, the sounds of pursuit growing fainter behind them, Reed’s mind raced with the implications of what he had witnessed. The conspiracy reached further than any of them had imagined—not merely corruption of individual Lords or Heroes, but a systematic subversion of the entire power structure over generations.

"What did you find?" Shia asked as they emerged into the fetid darkness of the ancient sewer system.

Reed clutched the tome tighter, its malevolent energy seeping through even the protective wrappings he had hastily applied. "Confirmation of our worst fears. The royal family has been cultivated for generations as vessels for Those Below. The prince leads the cult openly, and half the High Council are willing participants."

"God’s blood," Magnus whispered. "Who can we trust with such accusations? Even with evidence, moving against the Crown would tear the kingdom apart."

Reed’s face hardened with resolve. "We trust no one whose loyalty isn’t already proven. But we must act. What I saw in that chamber—" He broke off, the horror still fresh. "They plan to sacrifice the king during Protocol Terminus as the final consecration."

They reached a junction where the sewer opened into a broader canal. A small boat waited, manned by one of Lord Everett’s shadow-warriors. As they clambered aboard, Reed made his decision.

"We take this evidence directly to the people. All of them. Not just the Lords, but every citizen capable of understanding what faces us." He held up the grotesque tome. "This contains the complete history of their conspiracy—names, dates, ritual sites. With this, even the most skeptical must acknowledge the threat."

"Public exposure?" Magnus looked aghast. "The Chancellor controls the city guard, the royal messengers, every official channel of communication. How would you even—"

"The Midsummer Address," Shia interrupted, understanding dawning in her eyes. "Two days from now. Every major Lord and representative will gather in the Grand Plaza."

Reed nodded grimly. "Precisely. We hijack the royal proclamation and present our evidence before they can silence us."

"It’s suicide," Magnus protested. "You’d be cut down before speaking ten words."

"Not if we have sufficient allies in place," Reed countered. "Not if we prepare properly."

As their boat slipped through the darkened waterways beneath the city, Reed stared down at the abominable book in his hands. The decision was made—the final gambit set in motion. In forty-eight hours, he would either save the kingdom or die in the attempt.

The boat emerged from the underground canal into a secluded dock where Lady Dalia waited with a contingent of disguised soldiers. As Reed stepped ashore, a strange sensation prickled at the base of his skull—a feeling of being watched by eyes that existed in no human head.

He turned back toward the palace, barely visible in the distance above the city’s rooftops. For an instant, he could have sworn he saw something massive and shapeless shifting behind the tallest tower—a darkness deeper than the night sky, pulsing with ancient malevolence.

And somewhere within that darkness, a voice that was not a voice whispered directly into his mind:

"We have waited centuries, little lord. What is two more days?"