Unexpected Twists in Royal Academy Intrigue

Chapter 4: Unexpected Twists in Royal Academy Intrigue

During lunch the next day, Maliwe and Zahara once again found themselves in the prince's private dining room at the royal academy, surrounded by a gathering of esteemed individuals. Prince Cedric presided over the table, with Elara Meadows, Damian Stormrider, Roland Evergreen, Lucius Ironheart, Victor Emberforge, and Isabella Ravenshadow in attendance.

Prince Cedric called for attention as they settled in and began to serve themselves from the lavish spread of food. "Before we indulge, there are matters of importance to address," he announced, prompting his inner circle to set aside their plates and focus their attention on him.

"Now, Sir Maliwe Mbeki and Lady Zahara Mbeki, your purpose in Thralia is to help strengthen the friendship between our two nations and peoples. However, I must confess that the royal family of Thralia harbored a secondary agenda," the prince stated, his gaze unwavering as he addressed the two.

"It wasn't something we could openly divulge; we needed to witness it firsthand. I needed to witness your people's strength with my own eyes to dispel any doubts or questions I may have had," the prince continued, rising from his seat and crossing the room to gaze out of the window at the serene garden below.

"What I am about to disclose is a national secret of Thralia and must remain within these walls," the prince began solemnly, his gaze shifting to the two dark-skinned individuals. "However, something tells me that you two are accustomed to keeping such secrets and will not divulge them to anyone."

Maliwe and Zahara exchanged curious glances before turning their attention back to Prince Cedric. "Don't beat around the bush, Cedric. What's this about?" Maliwe asked directly, his tone firm.

"Yes," the prince said, closing his eyes briefly. "Well... am I correct in believing that you know about the demon king who nearly destroyed the world a thousand years ago?" he asked.

Demon king? What is he on about? This whole scene wasn't in any of the comics, Jamal thought as he listened.

"Of course we do. Our people held off many of the demons from the sea that tried to invade the land," Maliwe responded instinctively.

Wait, what was that? Jamal thought, realizing it wasn't him who spoke but the body he now occupied.

"Our oracles have divined that the demon king has resurrected. We are preparing to fight it, and I want you two to join my party for this," Prince Cedric explained.

Zahara's eyes widened in shock. "A...are you sure we h—"

Before Zahara could finish, Maliwe interrupted, "We already know he's returning. The spirits have already foretold us of this," he said, causing his sister to look at him in disbelief.

Again, what is this about a demon king? This story arc was supposed to be a game of cloak-and-dagger politics against the siblings and their father! What is this nonsense about a demon king? Jamal was utterly at a loss. The story had just begun a few days in but was already deviating from the source material—and not by his hand either.

"Why? Why didn't you tell me?" Zahara turned to question her brother, only to be met with a cold stare. Zahara instantly got the message: 'Shut your mouth and wait. I'll talk to you about it later.'

Zahara reluctantly held her tongue though her mind raced with questions and frustrations. Prince Cedric continued, seemingly oblivious to the silent exchange.

"I understand this is a lot to take in," Cedric said, "but luckily, we have some time to stop and build our forces and gather our allies. The demon king's forces are already beginning to stir. But his exact resurrection date is still lost in the stars for now."

"Before I decide whether to join you, I must ask why us? You knew nothing about us beyond rumors of our people's prowess. This could have been a huge waste of time if we were, and don't take this personally, like some of the fat, lazy nobles we've seen around," Maliwe said, staring the prince in the eye. Yet, Victor seemed more offended by the comment than the prince.

"Well, for starters, your people have a unique connection to the spirits, which would make you a great asset," the prince explained. "Then, I believe it will cement the friendship of our two kingdoms even against those in both our kingdoms who may not be happy with this alliance," he finished.

"Third, and most importantly, you are the children of the High Shaman, and I am the prince of this kingdom. The three of us taking these roles and standing side by side will make a stronger statement than any random warriors fighting together from both our kingdoms."

"And I'm expected to believe everyone at this table right now is a member of your party? While I couldn't believe that for someone like Sir Roland Evergreen, Sir Lucius Ironheart, or Sir Damian Stormrider. Miss Elara Meadows's hands have never seen battle. At the same time, Sir Victor Emberforge and Lady Isabella Ravenshadow aren't cut out for combat!" Maliwe inquired.

"You have a keen eye. They are not direct party members but play a more supportive role. Both are benefactors," the prince confirmed. "Victor Emberforge, despite his lack of combat prowess, is an invaluable asset in matters of trade and supply. His connections and wealth ensure we have the resources to fund our campaign. Isabella Ravenshadow's role, though not combative, is pivotal in political maneuvering and securing alliances within the nobility," Cedric explained.

Victor puffed out his chest, clearly proud of his contributions, while Isabella maintained the expected demeanor of a future queen.

Maliwe closed his eyes, "So, you have resources, but do you have an actual plan?"

"Yes, we do. Our plan involves a multi-pronged approach," the prince began. "First, we need to gather intelligence on the resurrection of the demon king—specifically, the when, where, and how of his return."

Cedric paused before continuing, "Second, we must fortify our defenses and prepare our forces for the impending battle. However, if this party I've assembled proves effective, we may be able to avert a full-scale war altogether."

Jamal listened intently, intrigued by the twist of events. This wasn't the story he was familiar with, but it could prove interesting.

"This is the general idea. The more we can solidify the pieces on the field, the more options we have to maneuver. Please don't take this as me considering you mere pawns or tools; it's just the best analogy for our scenario," the prince continued, finally reaching for a cup of tea and taking a sip.

Maliwe took a moment to process this information, his gaze shifting between the prince's inner circle members. He couldn't deny their strategic value. However, one question remained: Could he trust them?

"I see," Maliwe responded, his tone measured. "The youngest and I must confer before we make any commitments.

Prince Cedric nodded. "Of course, take the time you need. We understand this is a significant decision."

As the gathering began to disperse, with conversations and light chatter resuming, Maliwe signaled Zahara to follow him outside. Once they were away from the prying eyes and ears of the others, Zahara's pent-up frustrations burst forth.

"You knew? You knew the demon king was returning, and you didn't tell me? Why? How could you keep such a thing from me, elder one?" she exclaimed.

"Because the staff bearers commanded that of me," Maliwe replied, his tone level and calm.

Zahara glared at him, her eyes ablaze with anger. "We're not supposed to keep secrets from each other, dear Elder one! I don't care who else you deceive, but don't you dare keep secrets from me."

Maliwe sighed, running a hand through his black braided hair. "Dear youngest, it wasn't that I didn't trust you or want to tell you; it was a direct command from the Shaman Counsel. They didn't want it spreading, so they only told The Blade of the Spirit and a few spi...rit warriors..."

Now that I think about it, why wasn't Zahara informed of the Demon King's return? She's an elite Spirit Warrior, personally trained by the Blade of the Spirits—the most powerful warrior in Maliwean history and the de facto military leader.

Zahara noticed her brother's sudden silence and pressed further. "What are you hiding from me, Elder one? You're not telling me everything. What else did the Shaman Counsel say?"

Maliwe looked off into the distance. "It's nothing, Younger one... I just realized how strange it is that you weren't informed by either the Counsel or the Blade of Spirits. It's... alarming, to say the least."

Maliwe shook his head. "No, I don't suspect anything, and I have nothing more to add on the matter. If you have concerns, you need to take this up with the Counsel."

"But enough of this, Youngest one. We still have the rest of our classes to finish for the day," Maliwe said, his tone firm. He turned and began walking toward their next class, leaving Zahara with **** but to follow, her questions left unspoken for now.

As the siblings made their way back to the academy, the bustling corridors buzzed with chatter, but the rest of the day was eventless and dull.

The following days at the Royal Academy settled into a blend of routine, though far from mundane. Mornings began with the usual battle to get Zahara into the school uniform—a frilly skirt she detested. This was followed by classes where they delved into the history of Thralia, punctuated by occasional political discussions with Prince Cedric and religious talks with Lady Elara.

Combat practice became a highlight of their days, with Zahara frequently dueling Sir Evergreen, Sir Ironheart, and Sir Stormrider. Her skills and fierce determination made her a formidable opponent, drawing admiration and respect from her sparring partners. As for Maliwe, the incident with the ice dragon on their first day left a lasting impression. Since then, only those three knights, his sister, and the prince himself dared to face him in battle.

Zahara stood poised, flames dancing around her as she taunted her opponent. "C'mon boys, show me that there are real men amongst the Thralian people!" Her voice dripped with challenge as she sized up Lucius Ironheart, who faced her with his sword and shield in a defensive stance. The two were evenly matched, tied five for five in their wins and losses.

Lucius, the Sword Saint, had quickly learned what many of their classmates were slow to grasp, and some still hadn't figured out: Zahara thrived on playing to her opponent's pride and ego, even though she was prideful herself. Her short time in Thralia, especially at the royal academy, had taught her a great deal about the psychology of the nobles when it came to combat. Here, the divide between how men and women were viewed as warriors was stark.

In Maliwea, strength and power reigned supreme. Shamans could move the very earth and seas themselves, call down storms, or summon hordes of animals; because of this, they stood at the top. Warriors, with their unmatched strength and speed, either bested each other, took what they wanted, or defended what was theirs. Birth played little role in one's fate; while expectations were set by the roles of one's mother or father, success or failure was ultimately determined by one's own actions.

But here in Thralia, things were different. Nobility held more weight than individual talent, with family names overshadowing personal prowess. Zahara found this strange and somewhat absurd, and she used this knowledge to her advantage in battle. She knew how to exploit their arrogance and make them second-guess their assumptions about her as a warrior.

While Lucius was too disciplined to fall easily into her traps, the other knights weren't so immune. She had bested both Damian Stormrider and Sir Roland Evergreen by pushing them into mistakes, causing them to overextend themselves or react impulsively.

"You're boring me, Ironheart!" Zahara taunted, her voice dripping with mockery as her fiery aura blazed to life. With a sudden burst of speed, she blurred around Lucius, her movements erratic and unpredictable. "I expected more from a so-called Sword Saint!"

Zahara's tactic was one that the Thralian knights had come to dread. She would accelerate in sharp, unpredictable bursts, then slow down just enough to shift direction before accelerating again. The effect was disorienting, creating a trail of afterimages that seemed to encircle Lucius from all sides. It was as if she had multiplied, each version of her ready to strike.

Lucius's eyes narrowed as he held his defensive posture, aware that Zahara's display was nothing more than an illusion of speed and sight. He just needed to wait for the right moment—the instant the real Zahara would make her move.

A typical opponent might strike from a blind spot, he mused, but Lady Zahara... she relishes the game too much. She could come at me from the front or even the sides just to catch me off guard.

Lucius focused intently, trying to anticipate the direction of her attack. He knew his best chance lay in countering her the moment she committed to a strike.

All the afterimages converged on him simultaneously, blurring into a whirlwind of Zahara's forms. The first approached from his far right, and Lucius pivoted sharply to the left, driving his shield into the back of its head. The afterimage shattered, vanishing like mist.

Without missing a beat, Lucius brought his sword in a diagonal upper slash to his right, slicing cleanly through another afterimage from hip to shoulder. It dissolved instantly, leaving him facing the remaining illusions with unyielding focus.

Lucius noticed her feinting low toward his legs as he anticipated Zahara's next move. He instinctively aimed a strike downward with his wooden sword, but Zahara swiftly countered. With a deft twist of her wrist, she used her wooden club, its curved, circular end expertly deflecting his blow. The deflection left him off-balance for just a moment—long enough for her to sweep his legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground.

Before he could recover, Zahara was on him, pinning him down with a victorious grin. "Victory is mine today, pretty boy," she declared, her dark skin glistening with exertion as she leaned in closer. Her voice dropped to a sultry whisper as she added something meant only for his ears, causing Lucius to blush despite himself.

Maliwe and Elara observed as Lucius and Zahara exchanged blows from the side of the dueling area.

Elara, the saintess-in-training, smiled as she leaned closer to the Maliwean shaman, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"Another impressive duel," she remarked. "How would you have fared against your sister in this match?"

"First, I'd lower the temperature below freezing, covering the entire ground with a sheet of ice to nullify her speed. Then, I'd use powerful wind currents to control her movements, slamming her into various obstacles like ice spikes I'd conjure up," he replied.

Elara nodded thoughtfully, her eyes narrowing as she envisioned the scene. "Wow, I'm not one for fighting, but that sounds incredible," she said, clasping her hands together.

"It's nothing special," Maliwe replied modestly, "I'm just using her strengths against her. She loves to boost her speed and keep her opponents on edge. The real challenge begins when she shifts into her 'Dancing with the Flames' form."

Elara stared at Maliwe for a moment, her curiosity piqued. "'Dancing with the Flames'? What is that?" Her gaze drifted from the shaman to the spirit warrior, still straddling the hero-in-training. Now, the Zahara was leaning forward, whispering something into Damian's ear, causing him to flush a deep shade of red.