The Shadow King's Alpha : The Cursed Bond

[Imperial Palace — Training Ground — Later]

CLANG!!

CLANG!!

The sharp collision of steel echoed across the enormous Imperial Training Ground. Hundreds of Imperial Knights moved across the practice yard, their swords flashing beneath the afternoon sun.

"Again!"

CLANG!!

"Left!"

SWISH!

"Too slow!"

CLANG!!

The Imperial Knights trained relentlessly, their armor gleamed, their movements were disciplined, their swords were sharp enough to cut through thick wooden training posts in a single strike, and they were supposed to be...the finest warriors in Qashmar.

Yet...high above the training ground on an elevated marble platform Lytharion looked utterly unimpressed. He sat lazily upon a magnificent golden throne, one leg resting casually over the other, his black robes spilling over the sides of the throne, while his long hair drifted gently in the afternoon breeze.

In one hand...he held a small bowl of grapes; he plucked one, popped it into his mouth, and chewed. Then his golden eyes narrowed.

"...Amateurs."

A nearby servant nearly choked. Lytharion reached for another grape; his gaze remained fixed on the training ground as he slowly chewed. "They are wolves...yet their footwork is terrible."

Below, one knight stepped forward.

CLANG!

His opponent blocked.

The knight attempted a sweeping strike. Lytharion sighed. "Too wide."

The knight immediately stumbled. Lytharion popped another grape into his mouth. "His weight is on the wrong foot."

The knight corrected himself. Lytharion frowned. "Too late."

The knight’s sword was knocked from his hand.

CLATTER!

The entire training ground froze for half a heartbeat; the knight stared at his fallen sword and then slowly looked toward the elevated platform.

Lytharion was already eating another grape; the knight immediately picked up his sword.

"Again!" The instructor shouted.

The knights resumed training.

CLANG!

CLANG!

Lytharion sighed as he pointed lazily toward another knight.

"That one, his shoulders are too stiff."

The knight immediately relaxed his shoulders. "Now his elbows are wrong."

The knight corrected them. "His grip is too tight."

The knight loosened his fingers. Lytharion ate another grape. "...Better."

The knight nearly cried with relief. Unfortunately...Lytharion wasn’t finished.

"The stance is still ugly."

The knights were far too terrified. It wasn’t that Lytharion’s criticisms were necessarily wrong. That was the problem; every single time he spoke...he was correct. Every foot placement. Every shoulder angle. Every sword movement and every weakness.

The Lord of Darkness could see it all, and the knights had begun to suspect something even worse.

He was enjoying this.

At the edge of the training ground, a tall man in black-and-silver Imperial armor stood silently observing. His arms were folded behind his back, and his expression remained stern. But his eyes...kept drifting toward the golden throne.

This was General Theron Valcrest, Commander of the Imperial Knights. For the past thirty minutes...he had watched Lytharion dismantle the fighting techniques of nearly every knight without ever standing up.

And the general had reached one unavoidable conclusion: the knights weren’t fighting badly because they lacked skill; they were fighting badly because...the Lord of Darkness was watching them.

Their legs were trembling, their breathing was uneven, and their hands were sweating inside their gloves. Even the most experienced knights kept stealing terrified glances toward the throne.

General Theron sighed internally.

’If this continues, none of them will be able to hold a sword.’

He finally stepped forward; his boots struck the marble.

CLANK.

The moment he approached the elevated platform...the nearest knights immediately straightened. General Theron climbed the steps. Then he stopped several feet before the golden throne, and he lowered himself into a deep bow.

"Greetings to the Lord of Darkness."

Lytharion looked at him; his golden eyes moved from the general’s boots...to his stance...then to his shoulders. Theron suddenly became painfully aware of his posture.

Lytharion narrowed his eyes. "...You."

Theron stiffened. "Yes, Lord of Darkness."

"Your left foot."

Theron glanced down. "...My lord?"

"Move it."

Theron immediately shifted his foot. Lytharion nodded once. "Better."

The general of the Imperial Knights...the man who commanded thousands of soldiers had just been corrected on his stance before he could even introduce himself.

Theron swallowed and bowed again. "I...I am General Theron Valcrest, Commander of the Imperial Knights of Qashmar."

Lytharion popped another grape into his mouth as he glanced back toward the training ground. "So you’re the one responsible for teaching them how to walk."

Theron’s face twitched. "...Yes, Lord of Darkness."

Lytharion looked toward the knights, then back toward Theron. "You’re doing a poor job."

Silence.

Every knight within hearing distance silently prayed for their general. Theron remained perfectly still. "I shall accept your criticism."

Lytharion’s golden eyes returned to the training ground. "Why are your knights so frightened?"

Theron froze; he knew exactly why, but...there was no safe answer. Lytharion slowly turned toward him, his golden eyes narrowed.

"...Are they frightened of losing?"

Theron hesitated.

"No."

"Then..." Lytharion glanced toward the hundreds of knights who suddenly became extremely interested in their swords. "...they’re frightened of me."

Theron remained silent. For several long moments... Lytharion simply stared at him. Then a slow smile curved across the deity’s lips, dangerously amused. He leaned back against the golden throne, lazily rolling another grape between his fingers.

"I thought so..." His golden eyes swept across the training ground. "...How amusing."

A few knights swallowed nervously. Then the smile disappeared instantly. The warmth vanished from his voice.

What replaced it...was something colder, something that made even the afternoon air feel heavier.

"But..." Lytharion’s voice echoed across the training ground. "That is the huge problem, isn’t it?"

Every knight stopped. Lytharion slowly rose from the golden throne; his black robes fell around him like living shadows as he descended the marble steps one at a time.

His golden eyes remained fixed upon the hundreds of knights standing below and stopped halfway down the stairs.

"If the Imperial Knights...are frightened by my presence, then tell me, how exactly do you intend to protect my Queen?"

Silence, an absolute silence.

Every knight stiffened; a few hands tightened around their swords, and others lowered their gazes. No one dared answer. Lytharion continued down the steps; his expression remained terrifyingly calm.

"My Queen is no longer merely the Alpha of the Red Clan. He is now...the Emperor of Qashmar, and you..." He finally reached the ground. "...are the knights sworn to protect him?"

He walked slowly through the formation, his golden eyes passing over every warrior as his voice became colder.

"Yet...the moment I enter this training ground, your hands tremble. Your breathing changes, your formation breaks, and your swords..."

Lytharion glanced at the weapons held in their hands.

"...become heavier than they were a moment ago."

He stopped, then slowly turned toward them.

"If you cannot stand before me...how will you stand before something stronger than me?"

No one moved.

His next words were quieter and somehow...far more frightening. "And if the thing attacking my Queen...isn’t afraid of gods? What then?"

The knights looked at one another. Lytharion’s gaze hardened.

"What happens when an enemy comes for your emperor...and you are too frightened to raise your swords?"

The question hung over the training ground. No one had an answer because...he was right. General Theron’s expression slowly changed; he looked at his knights.

At their rigid shoulders, their white knuckles, and their lowered eyes, they weren’t afraid of battle; they weren’t afraid of death. They were afraid...of the Emperor’s mate, and that was unacceptable.

’He’s right.’ The realization struck Theoran with uncomfortable clarity. ’We are the Imperial Knights. Our duty is to protect the Emperor. How can we protect His Majesty...if we are frightened of the very person standing beside him?’

Theron stepped forward; he lowered himself into a deep bow, and his voice was solemn.

"My Lord...I apologize. I have failed in my duty as commander. I will extend their training, I will reinforce their discipline and I will—"

"No."

Lytharion’s voice cut through the training ground. Theron froze. Lytharion turned toward him, and then his eyes swept across the entire army.

"I am not asking you to train them harder." His voice became colder. "I am telling you...that I will train them."

Every knight went rigid. Theron stared. "My Lord..."

Lytharion continued before he could finish; his voice echoed across the entire training ground.

"From this moment onward, every Imperial Knight, every General, every Commander, every Captain, and every warrior entrusted with the protection of my Queen..."

He stepped forward.

"...will answer to me."

The entire training ground fell silent. Theron’s eyes widened. Lytharion looked directly into his eyes.

"You will learn to stand before fear...without allowing fear to command your body, and if necessary..." His golden eyes swept across them. "...you will learn to stand before me when it comes to protecting my queen."

Several knights swallowed. Lytharion smiled; this time there was absolutely nothing gentle about it.

"Until the day you can look directly into the eyes of the Lord of Darkness and keep your sword steady...you are not worthy of standing between my queen and death."

Then General Theron slowly lowered himself onto one knee, his fist pressed firmly against his chest. "It would be...an honor beyond anything I deserve to receive training from Death itself. If the Lord of Darkness is willing to sharpen our blades...then we shall have no excuse to remain weak."

One after another—

THUD.

Every Imperial Knight knelt across the training ground; their swords were placed horizontally before them, their heads lowered, and their voices rose together.

"IT IS OUR HONOUR..." The sound shook the training ground. "...TO RECEIVE THE TRAINING OF THE LORD OF DARKNESS!"

Lytharion stared at them. For a moment...he said nothing. Then his gaze shifted toward the edge of the training ground. Kael stood there; beside him were Lucein and Captain Cedric. Kael had arrived quietly enough that most of the knights hadn’t noticed.

He had watched the entire exchange; the emperor’s amber eyes met the lord of darkness’s golden ones.

Lytharion’s expression immediately changed; the tyrannical commander disappeared, and the faintest smile returned.

"Can I train them...my Queen?"

Kael glanced at the kneeling Imperial Knights; he could hardly believe what he had witnessed. The most powerful knights in Qashmar...had just willingly knelt before the Lord of Darkness and somehow... Kael knew they would become stronger because of it.

He gave a small nod.

"...Yes."

Lytharion smiled. "Good."

Lytharion turned away from them and walked toward Kael. As he approached...Kael noticed the faint scent of sandlewood lingering around him, carried by the warm afternoon wind.

Lytharion stopped directly before him. "Are you here to meet me, my queen?"

Kael locked his gaze with Lytharion as he said, "There’s something I need to ask, something important, and I think you may be the only one who can give me the answer."

Lytharion’s expression became unreadable. Kael took one step closer. "Can we talk?"

Silence.

For several seconds the Lord of Darkness simply looked at his mate. Then his golden eyes softened.

"Of course."

Lytharion turned, and his smile vanished as if he knew why Kael was here.

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