Aric walked slowly to the edge of the platform where the nobles stood and raised his voice, his tone hardening as it reached the masses.
"I will tell you what rebellion truly brings, it is the aame thing it has brought to this council members."
He let the silence stretch for a moment, letting the implications of his words settle in the hearts of those before him.
The crowd leaned in, as though the air had become too thick to breathe, anticipation clawing at their throats.
"Death."
The word dropped like a stone in still water, and the ripples were felt immediately. Gasps rippled through the crowd, and murmurs of shock began to rise.
But Aric remained unfazed, his face cold, unmoved by their horror.
"Bring them forward," he commanded, his voice as cold as steel.
The Northrender Legionaries dragged the council members to the front—each Northrender cultivation far surpassed that of any council member—they could not struggle, their pleas swallowed by the roaring silence that followed.
Aric looked at them without pity.
Each face told the same story: desperation, fear, the terrible realization of impending death. They had once held power, once stood beside the king, believing themselves untouchable.
Now, they were nothing more than prisoners, dragged to their execution in full view of the kingdom they had betrayed.
Aric pointed to the northreneder legionary, now executioner standing at the base of the platform, a hulking figure with an axe that gleamed in the crimson light of the setting sun.
The order was given without ceremony, swift and final.
The first councilman—Lord Orin, a man whose name had once carried weight in Byzeth, was shoved to his knees before the block.
Aric turned to the court, his gaze falling on the weeping relatives of Aszer.
They clung to one another, their faces streaked with tears, their voices hoarse with grief. Aszer's sister let out a wail, collapsing to her knees as the full weight of her loss crushed her spirit.
Aric's expression softened, just slightly, as he approached them.
"I understand your sorrow," he said quietly, his voice almost tender. "Your king, your brother, your family... they are gone. And I sympathize with you."
For a moment, hope flickered in their tear-stained eyes. But then Aric's next words cut through the air like a blade.
"And so, to ease your suffering, you will join him."
The cries of despair rose once more, louder and more desperate than before, but Aric's heart was stone. He raised his hand, signaling the soldiers, and they moved forward, seizing the remaining members of Aszer's family.
"Hang them," Aric ordered, his voice devoid of emotion. "Let them swing from the walls of this castle, beside the head of their king."
The soldiers dragged the wailing nobles away, their sobs lost in the cold efficiency of the moment. The crowd watched in horror, their faces pale, their hearts heavy with the weight of the bloodshed they had just witnessed.
Aric stood tall, his gaze fixed on the castle walls where the executions would take place. The head of Aszer would not hang alone. His entire line, his entire legacy, and anyone who would seek to avenge the king, would die with him.
And as the sun began to set behind the castle, projecting long shadows over the kingdom of Byzeth, Aric Valerian turned to face his people.
He had brought death. He had brought conquest.
And now, Byzeth was his.
The prince had become king.
And that was his first step to becoming emperor.
[ M-Quest: Overthrowing a kingdom| has been completed ]