Chapter 57: The Rupture of the Bloodline (Part 2)
The silver quill scratched loudly against the heavy royal vellum.
It was a harsh, scraping sound that echoed across the dead silence of the Royal Box.
King Alaric pressed the nib down so hard it nearly tore the parchment.
'It is hard to give up something that you thought would be yours for eternity!'
When he finally lifted the pen, the deed was done.
The reign of the greedy King was officially dead.
Alaric dropped the quill.
It clattered against the mahogany table.
He slumped back into his velvet throne, his shoulders sagging.
All the false bravado and wine-fueled arrogance completely drained out of him.
Stripped of his authority, he looked like a deflated, pathetic old man.
"There," Alaric rasped. "It is finished. You have your kingdom of cogs and grease, Marquee. I hope the headache crushes you."
Prime Minister Hardsteel did not smile.
He did not celebrate.
