NOVEL NEXT Chapter 195 The old order
195 The old order
From one of the windows of Aritreia Palace, Henry watched as Latrel's burnt head was hoisted into the air, placed at the center of the plaza for all to see. Though far away, he seemed to be able to make out the hushed murmurs spreading through the restrained crowd, their eyes wide with horror.
"It was supposed to be your husband's head up there."- Henry said coldly, turning his gaze away from the crowd to the golden-haired woman standing behind him. She clutched her two sleeping children tightly. Leier, standing silently behind her, rested a hand on the hilt of her short sword, ready to strike at the slightest sign of resistance. At those words, the former queen's body tensed, her grip tightening around her children. Her eyes, wide with desperation, fixed on Henry's face. She tried to speak, but only garbled sounds escaped her.
"In order to guarantee a new order, the old one must be eradicated," - Henry said, his voice calm, as if he was talking about breakfast - "The future can't thrive where the past lingers. So, for a new order to rise, the old one must be destroyed." His gaze returned to the plaza, where the crowd still watched in horror as the execution continued. "What do you think is the best way for people to understand that a new order has arrived?"
The woman stared back at him, terrified and mute. He knew she couldn't answer, she had no tongue to make a sound.
"The best way," Henry continued, gesturing toward the scene below, "is exactly what you're witnessing. By severing the head of the one who ruled…or thought to be ruling…the people are left without a symbol, without a connection to the old regime. Over time, they will forget. The old names, the old faces, they'll fade. In a few short years, no one will even remember your husband's name, or the family that reigned over these lands for centuries."
Henry paused, turning back to the woman and her children. His eyes settled on the child missing an arm, then rose again to meet her frightened gaze. "After I destroy the statues, burn every banner, every painting with your family's crest on it, the only remnants of your fallen dynasty will be you and your children." His words were deliberate, sharp, and he watched the horror spread across her face.
The woman took a step back, her eyes widening in terror, until Leier's blade pressed gently against her throat, halting her retreat.
"Every history I've ever read tells me that I should kill you and your children," Henry said, his voice unnervingly calm, as if he were considering a trivial matter. "Uproot the threat before it has a chance to grow. It's what reason demands, and I am nothing if not reasonable." His eyes flickered with something darker, something more thoughtful. "But…" He shook his head slowly. "Every fiber of my humanity tells me to spare you. So I'm torn, you see. Reason and heart are at war within me. I don't yet know which will win."
He leaned forward slightly, studying her face with cold gaze. "So, give me a reason to let you and your children live. Can you?"
The woman's eyes darted toward her children. She couldn't speak, not without her tongue, but Henry could see the struggle in her. She understood what was at stake, her life, her children's lives, and she knew Henry was offering her a way out, slim as it might be.
In Earth's history, there were many examples of royal families wiped out to secure a new regime, Henry thought, recalling the French Revolution. The revolutionaries had not only deposed King Louis XVI but also executed him, severing the monarchy's connection to the people. The execution was a symbol, a break with the past, just as decisive as a blade cutting through flesh. By killing the king, the revolutionaries ensured that the old order would never rise again. The Reign of Terror followed, where thousands of aristocrats, royals, and enemies of the revolution met the same fate. Queen Marie Antoinette's death sent an even stronger message.
However, the revolutionaries hesitated to execute Louis XVI's children publicly, fearing the backlash. Louis XVII, the young dauphin, was subjected to horrendous conditions and left to die a slow, miserable death behind closed doors, out of the public eye. The symbolism of sparing a child in public but condemning him to suffer in private was one Henry considered now.
Killing this queen and her children would be the logical choice, Henry knew. It would uproot any potential threat to his new rule. Yet, despite everything, he couldn't bring himself to make that decision. The woman before him was powerless, without her tongue, without her title, and her children were weak and frightened. There was no battlefield here, no enemy to strike down. There had to be another way.
The queen, understanding that Henry's question was an opportunity, acted quickly. She knelt, forcing her still-groggy children to wake. They rubbed their eyes, disoriented, but when they saw their mother on her knees, they followed suit, kneeling beside her without hesitation.
She couldn't speak, but her actions spoke clearly. She was offering herself and her children as subjects, acknowledging Henry's authority.
Henry smiled, a small, satisfied smile. "Good choice."
Relief washed over him. His heart, it seemed, had won this battle. He wouldn't need to kill a defenseless woman and her children. They were no threat, not anymore. And, perhaps more importantly, they could still be useful. The former queen held knowledge about this kingdom's lands that he could use for the next phase of his conquest.
"Yes," he thought to himself. "I can use her."
The woman remained on her knees, her children pressed close to her side. Henry nodded to Leier, who removed her blade from the woman's throat, though she remained on guard. His eyes returned to the window, but this time, he wasn't looking at the people, but at the horizon.
The only thing left was Luak and he would be sure to take it down rapidly.