Emperor's Reckoning - Chapter 1161: Treachery
After the initial shock and the necessary arrangements for the grieving family, Iris, the empress of the elves, turned her attention to Yala, seeking an explanation for the tragic incident. She gently urged her daughter to recount the events that had unfolded, wanting to understand the circumstances surrounding the untimely death of a young elf.
Yala, with a heavy heart and teary eyes, began narrating the heartbreaking tale. She described her arrival at the scene, the lifeless form of the child, and the inconsolable grief of the parents. As she recounted the sequence of events, her voice trembled with the weight of the tragedy, and each word carried the emotional toll of the experience.
As Yala continued her narrative, detailing the arrival of Elandril, the esteemed emperor, and her father, the atmosphere grew somber. The elves, known for their longevity and grace, were not immune to the pain of loss. Elandril’s appearance added an air of authority to the scene, but even the emperor could not shield himself from the raw emotions that permeated the air.
The pivotal moment arrived when a witness claimed that the perpetrator responsible for the child’s death was not of elven origin but, in fact, a non-human entity. Yala conveyed the shocking revelation with a mixture of disbelief and sorrow, her words hanging in the air like a heavy veil. The news sent ripples through the gathered elves, their collective gasps and murmurs echoing the collective concern and uncertainty that now clouded their once-serene realm.
Iris absorbed the information with a pensive demeanor, her thoughts racing to make sense of the implications. The fragile peace that had prevailed in Eldora now stood at the precipice of uncertainty. The notion of a non-elven being involved in such a heinous act challenged the foundational principles of elven society.
Iris’s contemplative gaze lingered in the air, burdened by the unspoken fears that echoed through the corridors of Eldora. She could sense the intricate web of politics entangling itself with the tragic loss of an innocent life. It was a bitter realization, one she hesitated to fully embrace. n/((.)-(-/(/-1.-n
Nodding in response to Yala’s account, Iris withheld the weight of her thoughts from her daughter. The air hung heavy with the unsaid, an unspoken connection between the child’s demise and the political undercurrents that threatened to disrupt the delicate balance of elven society.
“W-What should I do?” Yala, visibly uncertain, sought guidance from her mother. In that moment, the rebellious spirit that often characterized Yala’s demeanor was overshadowed by a genuine vulnerability. Iris, recognizing the turmoil within her daughter, gently touched Yala’s cheeks with a tenderness that spoke of both maternal love and unspoken understanding.
“For now, just be you, Yala,” Iris advised, her words carrying an unspoken reassurance. In that simple directive, Iris encouraged Yala to navigate the complex emotions that stirred within her. Yala, raising her brows inquisitively, found herself met with her mother’s retreating figure. The air between them held a silent understanding, an acknowledgment that certain truths were best left unspoken.
“Yala, I will accompany the grieving parents.” Iris departed to accompany the grieving parents, the weight of responsibility and the uncharted territory that awaited Eldora pressed upon her shoulders. The corridors whispered with the echoes of an uncertain future, and Yala, left alone in the wake of her mother’s departure, grappled with the enigma that unfolded before her eyes.
“To be myself…” Yala echoed her mother’s words inwardly. The phrase lingered in the air, a puzzle she was yet to decipher. Shaking her head in confusion, she attempted to grasp the elusive meaning behind those simple words. The weight of uncertainty hung in her eyes as she wiped away the remnants of tears, a silent acknowledgment of the emotional storm that had swept through her.
Despite her confusion, Yala recognized the immediate need to stand by her father’s side. With a determined resolve, she cast aside the complexities of her emotions and rushed outside. The bustling energy of Eldora surrounded her, but within the chaos, Yala sought the familiar presence of Elandril, hoping to find solace and understanding in the shared bond between parent and child. As she navigated the intricate paths that led to her father, Yala contemplated the essence of being herself amidst the unfolding events that would shape the fate of Eldora.
In the midst of the tumultuous scene in Eldora, Elandril maintained an outward composure despite the unrest among the crowd. His stern gaze focused on Feril, the old elven witness, as he sought information about the whereabouts of the perpetrator. The air crackled with tension as the elders, led by Ithildir, took charge of the situation. Elandril, though displeased by the turn of events, remained the epitome of imperial poise. The unfolding drama hinted at the intricate web of politics and conflicts that would shape the destiny of Eldora.
As the commotion in Eldora reached its peak, Elandril found himself at the center of a turbulent crowd. Despite the displeasure etched on his face, he remained composed, his regal demeanor unwavering. Fixing his gaze on Feril, the aged elf who had brought the unsettling news, Elandril sought answers with a stern determination. “Now, where did this perpetrator run to?” he inquired, demanding information that could potentially unravel the mystery surrounding the tragic event.
Feril, however, appeared incapable of providing the necessary details. In contrast, Ithildir, seizing the opportunity to showcase his influence, stretched his arms wide, a deceptive smile playing on his lips. “We have captured the human, Your Excellency,” he declared triumphantly, his tone betraying a sense of satisfaction. Without further ado, he commanded, “Bring him here!”
The frail human, delivered in chains and shoved forward, bore the unmistakable signs of mistreatment. His tattered clothing hung loosely on his frame, and his disheveled hair mirrored the state of his body, which bore the scars of personal justice. It was evident that some had taken matters into their own hands before delivering him to the emperor’s presence.
As the human was forced before Elandril, his pain-stricken face twisted in agony. Despite the physical torment, his eyes widened with desperation and fear as he looked up at the elven emperor. “No! No! I didn’t do it! It wasn’t me!” he pleaded, the anguish in his voice cutting through the tension that hung in the air.
The crowd’s collective anger reached a boiling point as calls for the human’s death echoed among them. “We should kill him!” shouted one, and soon the chant spread like wildfire. “Kill him!” “End him!” The atmosphere turned chaotic, and the fervor for retribution intensified as everyone seemed to resonate with the notion that the human must face the ultimate punishment.
The clamor spread like wildfire through the empire, echoing the sentiments of those gathered. The chaos intensified as the crowd seemed to resonate with the idea of delivering swift and severe punishment to the accused human. Elandril, standing at the center of the storm, heard the fervent wishes for death from his people.
In the midst of the tumult, Yala arrived at the scene. Her eyes widened in shock as she took in the unfolding scene of frenzied emotions and calls for retribution. The weight of the situation pressed upon her, and she found herself caught in the current of collective anger and grief.
Elandril’s hand rose, a gesture that commanded attention and sought to quell the rising chaos. He deliberately waited until all eyes were fixed upon him before he addressed the volatile crowd, “This matter will be dealt with a more intensive approach. We must not pass our own judgment so hastily, especially with how Eldora is now.” Elandril cast a stern gaze toward Ithildir before surveying the rest of the assembly, subtly implying the critical challenges the council faced.
However, Ithildir seized the moment to exploit the mounting tension, “But Your Excellency, the assailant is right before our eyes. Do you wish us to watch him continue to breathe Eldora’s air? To haunt our children in their sleep, potentially escaping imprisonment?”
The human assailant, upon hearing the emperor’s words, was elated. “T-Thank you, my lord!” he kowtowed in gratitude.
“Silence!” Ithildir berated the human.
The emperor maintained a neutral expression, observing the human’s gesture. His attention swiftly shifted back to Ithildir, issuing further instructions, “His trial will be public, and we will judge the truth. For now, take him to the palace, I will personally look after him so he will not get out.”
Two guards swiftly rushed to the scene, lifting the human assailant. Elandril led the way, escorting the human towards the palace, all under the watchful gaze of Eldora. Yala, witnessing her father’s commanding presence, nodded with a smile, experiencing a moment of pride.
The political maneuver executed by Elandril played out smoothly, at least momentarily quelling the anxiety within the crowd. The grand doors of the throne room swung open, revealing the majestic red carpet leading toward the imposing throne. Elandril led the way, his commanding presence radiating authority. Behind him followed the human assailant flanked by two guards.
As they advanced, Elandril sought to know the identity of the assailant. “What is your name?” he inquired, expecting an answer.
“Does it matter…”
The emperor paused, puzzled by the indifferent reply. Before he could delve deeper into the matter, a sudden disturbance unfolded. The air echoed with the unfurling of wings, and in an instant, a blade bathed in the radiant shine of Hell’s Prism emerged from Elandril’s back. Blood splattered, and the atmosphere shifted drastically.
Yala, frozen in horror, watched from the entrance of the Throne Room. The source of the treachery revealed itself – twelve pairs of black wings at full glory. A Devil Realm cultivator had infiltrated the heart of Eldora.
