Chapter 41: THE ELITES
The Eight Elites of Velmora—the pride of the kingdom, the iron spine beneath the velvet throne.
Each one was a master in their own right. Warriors, mages, strategists... but none stood taller than their Captain: Liam Sidon, ranked number one.
The Sidon bloodline had served the throne for generations. His father, hailed as the Master of Thunder, had turned the tide in the ancient war against the demons. Their loyalty was carved into their very bones. They lived by one principle:
"If the land bleeds, we bleed with it."
How noble. How poetic.
How utterly tragic... that every last one of them was destined to die—by my hands.
Christopher stood still, gaze locked on the man in front of him. Thunder crackled faintly in the distance as if the world itself knew what was about to unfold.
Liam gave a courteous bow, his eyes calm and respectful.
"Your Majesty, Prince. How may I serve you today?"
Christopher almost laughed. This man—this snake—had been one of the silent daggers in his previous life. A smiling executioner wrapped in a polished uniform.
Behind that innocent smile is a cold heart, Christopher thought. He's always seen me as the outsider. The bastard prince. Unworthy.