Building a Kingdom and Conquering the World - Chapter 207

Chapter 207: A month
A month after the war, in Eisenburg, the capital of Stahl.

Henry sat upon his throne, his gaze sweeping over the crowd that filled every corner of the grand hall. Hundreds of men, women, children, and elders stood before him in tense silence, filling every inch of the grand room. Their clothes were torn and ragged, and frostbite marked their hollow faces, as if they had been left to freeze in the northern cold for days. The children and elders were especially frail, reduced to little more than skin and bone, barely able to stand as they glanced up at the king with hollow, exhausted eyes.

“Are they all here?” Henry asked, leaning forward, his fingers tapping against the iron armrest. Behind him stood his most trusted aides: Leier, Olaro, Luther, and Luke, who was small enough to be mistaken for a child.

Luther, the old general, stepped forward, scanning the people. “Yes, my liege,” he replied. “These are all the remaining noble families from the conquered lands of Luak and Aritreia. Eight hundred and twenty-two souls, captured over the past month.”

Henry nodded, taking note of the fresh scar on his cheek, proof of the last battle’s danger – “You did well,” he said, nodding to the aides behind him. They had scoured his whole kingdom to capture these people, hunting down those who had tried to hide or running away. It must have been difficult.

Without another word, Henry rose from his throne, his gaze sharp as he looked over the shivering crowd – “All heads of households above the rank of count, step forward.”

The king’s words were met with complete silence. No one moved. The nobles lowered their heads further, afraid to meet his gaze. These were once powerful men and women, rulers of villages, cities and vast expanse of lands, with countless people under their rule. Now, they were reduced to nothing more than starving wretches, stripped of their power, afraid to even raise their eyes.

Henry’s gaze grew sharper, a flash of annoyance flickering in his eyes. “Do not make me ask again,” he said, his tone growing colder “All those above the rank of count, step forward.”

He sat back on his throne and let the silence hang heavy over the room. Then he sighed, a slow, weary sound that filled the hall with dread. “Very well,” he said, his tone flat but unable to mask his anger. “If you refuse to reveal yourselves, then another week in the cold will remind you of your position”

He glanced at Luther, who raised a hand. At once, the guards along the walls stepped forward, moving to drive the crowd back toward the doors. Panic spread through the nobles, whispers and fearful glances darting between them. They had already endured days in the freezing cold, barely surviving. Another week like that could mean death, especially for the children. Mothers clutched their little ones close, eyes wide with terror.

Henry watched as panic spread through the crowd. Calmly, he added, “For those who point out the head of their household, I will grant food and shelter. Perhaps even… other forms of compensation. The choice is yours.”

Desperation filled their eyes as they glanced around, caught between the threat of freezing to death and the shame of betrayal. Some wives exchanged tense glances with their husbands, weighing their options in silence as they asked them to surrender themselves for the greater good of their child.

Some of the heads of households, looking at their wives’s pleading eyes and frail children, couldn’t bear it any longer. One of them, trembling, raised his hand. “I am a Marquis!” he shouted, his voice cracking as he held his hands in the air. A few others soon followed, each naming their titles in voices filled with desperation. But only four dared step forward at first, hoping it might be enough to appease the king.

The crowd turned to Henry, waiting for him to call off the guards. But the king only looked at them with cold indifference, his expression almost bored. His message was clear, he wanted every last one of them.

Soon, desperation turned to betrayal as nobles began to turn on each other. Mothers hugged their malnourished children and pointed fingers at their husbands, whispering names, while former allies exposed each other without hesitation. Chaos surged through the hall, and soon thirty nobles had been forced forward, standing in a trembling line before the throne.

“Good,” Henry said, his voice calm as his eyes scanned their terrified faces.

“Please, spare me!” – Some of them cried, while others begged to spare their families, taking all responsibility under their own shoulders. They were nobles and they wanted their lineage to continue.

However, Henry showed no reaction. Rising from his throne, he took the sword offered to him by Luther and descended the steps of the throne, his gaze fixed on the thirty nobles before him, who were trembling in fear, feeling death caressing their cheeks.

“There is only one way out,” Henry said, his voice sharp as steel. “Loyalty.”

He looked slowly over the nobles, then briefly turned his gaze to the crowd, pausing as if to remind each person of their place. The heads of households watched him, hope flickering in their eyes. Some already seemed ready to swear allegiance, to pledge their loyalty in exchange for their lives. But Henry’s next words shattered that hope.

“But for a new tree to grow, the old one must fall,” he said, his tone cold and unyielding. “There is no room for two roots. No place for an old order to compete with my rule. You” – he continued, voice steady – “are the dying branches. And today, I will cut you down.”

“Kneel,” Henry commanded.

At once, the guards forced the nobles to their knees. Some tried to resist, but their Mana circuits had been severed, leaving them weaker than common men.

Henry placed the blade of his sword at the neck of the first noble, his movements slow and deliberate. The crowd watched in horrified silence, mothers shielding their children’s eyes, though the little ones were too weak, too starved to cry out and shed tears.

“I will cut down this dead tree,” Henry said, his voice carrying across the hall, “and grow my kingdom’s branches in its place.”

With that, his sword ignited, flames licking along the blade. In one swift motion, he brought it down, and the first head rolled across the stone floor.

The crowd held its breath, a fearful silence filling the hall. Henry did not stop with the first. One by one, he cut down each of the thirty nobles, heads falling and rolling down the steps of the throne’s platform, blood pooling on the stone.

By the end, the hall was thick with the scent of fire and blood, and no one dared to make a sound.