The Gentleman's Agony

The Grand Cathedral was a monument to excess. Vaulted ceilings soared a hundred feet overhead, supported by columns carved from single pieces of marble. Stained glass windows depicted the history of the kingdom in brilliant colors, and the floor was inlaid with precious stones arranged in intricate patterns. The altar at the front was solid gold, and the throne beside it—the throne where the Chancellor would be crowned—was encrusted with enough jewels to feed the entire capital for a year.

Silas stood in the shadows near the back of the cathedral, wearing the livery of one of Duke Ravencroft's servants. Elara stood beside him, dressed as a lady's maid, her hair dyed brown and her face altered with subtle makeup. They were invisible, just two more servants in a sea of attendants.

The cathedral was filling up with nobility, each one dressed in their finest clothes, each one eager to witness the coronation of the new King. They didn't know they were about to witness something very different.

"There's the Chancellor," Elara whispered, nodding toward the front of the cathedral.

Chancellor Aldric Thorne stood near the altar, resplendent in robes of state. He looked calm, confident, like a man who had already won. Around him, his supporters clustered—nobles who had thrown their lot in with him, guards who were loyal to him personally, clergy who had been convinced or bribed to support his claim to the throne.

"And there's General Blackwood," Silas murmured, spotting a tall man in military uniform standing near one of the side entrances. The General was surrounded by soldiers in the colors of the Royal Army, and his expression was carefully neutral.

"Is he ready?" Elara asked.

"He'd better be. Because once we start this, there's no stopping it."

The ceremony began with the ringing of bells. The High Priest entered, carrying the crown on a velvet cushion, and the assembled nobility rose to their feet. The Chancellor moved to the center of the altar, and the High Priest began the traditional invocation.

"We are gathered here today to witness the coronation of a new King, chosen by the gods to lead our kingdom into a new era of prosperity and peace..."

Silas tuned out the words, focusing instead on the positioning of the guards, the exits, the potential threats. He counted twenty guards loyal to the Chancellor, plus another dozen clergy who might intervene. Against that, they had General Blackwood's thirty soldiers, Duke Ravencroft's personal guard, and a handful of nobles who had quietly pledged their support.

The odds were not good. But they were better than nothing.

The ceremony continued. The Chancellor knelt before the altar, and the High Priest anointed him with sacred oils. Then came the oath—the moment they'd been waiting for.

"Do you, Aldric Thorne, swear to uphold the laws of this kingdom, to protect its people, to serve with honor and integrity, and to place the good of the realm above your own interests?"

"I do so swear," the Chancellor said, his voice carrying through the cathedral.

"Then by the power vested in me by the gods and the traditions of this kingdom, I—"

"Stop."

Elara's voice rang out, clear and commanding, cutting through the ceremony like a knife. Every head in the cathedral turned to look at her.

She stepped forward, pulling off the maid's cap that had hidden her face, and the gasps began immediately.

"Princess Elara!"

"She's alive!"

"But the Chancellor said—"

"The Chancellor lied," Elara said, her voice steady despite the hundreds of eyes on her. "About me, about my disappearance, about everything. And I have proof."

The Chancellor's face went pale, then red with anger. "Guards! Seize her! She's under magical compulsion, she's not in her right mind—"

"I'm perfectly in my right mind," Elara interrupted. "And I'm here to present evidence that you, Chancellor Thorne, are guilty of high treason."

The cathedral erupted in chaos. Nobles shouting, guards moving forward, the High Priest trying to restore order. Through it all, Silas moved to Elara's side, ready to protect her if needed.

"Your Highness," the High Priest said, his voice strained, "these are serious accusations. Do you have evidence to support them?"

"I do." Elara pulled out the portfolio of documents they'd taken from the Chancellor's office. "Financial records showing that the Chancellor funded the Red Hand terrorist organization. Letters proving he planned the bombing that killed my father. And a journal documenting his systematic abuse of Proxies, including experiments to make the bond system even more cruel."

She handed the documents to the High Priest, who began reading them with growing horror.

"These are forgeries!" the Chancellor shouted. "Lies created by that Proxy to control the Princess! Don't listen to her—she's being manipulated by blood magic!"

"I'm not being manipulated," Elara said coldly. "I'm bonded to Silas Vane, yes, but it's a partnership, not control. And unlike you, Chancellor, I don't treat people as disposable tools."

"You're a traitor to your class," the Chancellor spat. "You've betrayed everything your father stood for, everything this kingdom represents—"

"My father stood for justice and honor," Elara interrupted. "You stand for nothing but your own ambition. You funded terrorists, you murdered the King, and you've been systematically torturing Proxies for years. And now you want to be crowned King? I don't think so."

The High Priest had finished reading the documents, and his face was ashen. "Chancellor Thorne, these documents appear to be genuine. They're written in your hand, sealed with your seal. How do you explain them?"

"I don't have to explain anything to you," the Chancellor snarled. "I am about to be crowned King, and my first act will be to have this traitorous Princess and her Proxy executed for—"

"You're not being crowned anything," Duke Ravencroft said, stepping forward from the crowd. "Not today, not ever. Your Highness, I stand with you."

"As do I," Lady Ashford said, moving to join them.

"And I," Lord Pemberton added.

One by one, nobles began stepping forward, declaring their support for Elara. Not all of them—many stayed silent, too scared or too compromised to act. But enough. Enough to show that the Chancellor's support was not as solid as he'd claimed.

"General Blackwood," Elara called out. "Will you uphold your oath to the crown?"

The General stepped forward, his hand on his sword. "I will, Your Highness. My soldiers are loyal to the throne, not to any individual. If the Chancellor is guilty of treason, he will be arrested and tried according to the law."

"This is outrageous!" the Chancellor shouted. "I am the rightful King! The Princess is compromised, controlled by a Proxy who—"

"Enough." Silas's voice cut through the Chancellor's rant, quiet but carrying. "Your Grace, you keep claiming I'm controlling the Princess through blood magic. Would you like me to prove that's a lie?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The bond between us is unique. It's not the standard master-Proxy relationship. It's mutual, equal, and it allows us to share not just pain but emotions, thoughts, even consciousness." Silas looked at the High Priest. "Your Eminence, you're trained in magical theory. You can examine the bond, verify that it's not a form of control. Will you do so?"

The High Priest hesitated, then nodded. "I will. But I must warn you—if I find evidence of blood magic or compulsion, I will be obligated to report it."

"I understand."

The High Priest approached Silas and Elara, pulling out a small crystal device that glowed with soft light. He held it up to Silas's Collar, and the device began to pulse, reading the magical signature of the bond.

The High Priest's eyes widened. "This is... I've never seen anything like this. The bond is completely symmetrical. There's no master-servant hierarchy, no compulsion, no control. It's a true partnership."

"That's impossible," the Chancellor said. "Proxy bonds are always hierarchical. That's how they're designed."

"This one isn't," the High Priest replied. "And more than that—it's beautiful. The magical resonance is perfectly balanced, harmonious. This isn't blood magic or compulsion. This is something entirely new."

He turned to address the assembled nobility. "I can confirm that Princess Elara is not under any form of magical control. Her bond with Silas Vane is genuine and freely chosen. Whatever accusations she makes, she makes of her own free will."

The Chancellor's face went from red to purple. "This is a conspiracy! You're all working together to undermine my rightful claim to the throne!"

"Your claim was never rightful," Elara said. "You murdered my father, you funded terrorists, and you've been planning this coup for years. And now, Chancellor Thorne, you're under arrest for high treason."

"I don't think so." The Chancellor's hand went to his Conduit Ring, and Silas felt a surge of magical energy. "Guards! Kill them! Kill them all!"

The Chancellor's guards moved forward, weapons drawn, and chaos erupted in the cathedral.

General Blackwood's soldiers immediately moved to intercept, forming a protective barrier around Elara and Silas. Duke Ravencroft's guards joined them, and suddenly the cathedral was divided into two armed camps.

"Stand down!" General Blackwood commanded. "By order of the crown, I command you to stand down!"

But the Chancellor's guards didn't stand down. They attacked, and the cathedral became a battlefield.

Silas grabbed Elara and pulled her behind a pillar as swords clashed and spells flew. Through the bond, he felt her fear and determination in equal measure.

"We need to stop this," she said. "People are going to die."

"People are already dying," Silas replied, watching a guard fall with a sword through his chest. "But you're right. We need to end this quickly."

"How?"

"We take down the Chancellor. Without him, his guards will have no reason to fight."

"He's surrounded by his men. We can't get to him."

"We can if we use magic."

"Silas, no. The last time we used magic, we nearly died."

"I know. But I have an idea." He turned to look at her. "The bond distributes costs between us, right? What if we could distribute it further? Share the cost among multiple people instead of just the two of us?"

"That's not how Proxy bonds work."

"Our bond isn't a standard Proxy bond. Maybe it can do things that standard bonds can't."

Elara stared at him. "You want to try experimental magic in the middle of a battle?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

She didn't. And through the bond, Silas felt her make the decision—reckless, desperate, but their only option.

"All right," she said. "What do I need to do?"

"Hold my hand. Focus on the bond. And when I cast the spell, try to push the cost outward, to anyone who's willing to share it."

"That's insane."

"Yes. But it might work."

Silas reached through the bond to Elara, and together they reached out to the people around them—Duke Ravencroft, Lady Ashford, General Blackwood, even some of the guards and soldiers. Not to control them, but to offer them a choice: share the cost of the spell, or let the battle continue.

To his surprise, many of them accepted. He felt their consciousness touch the bond, felt them willingly take on a portion of the magical cost.

And then he cast the spell.

It was a simple spell, really. Just a barrier of force, separating the Chancellor from his guards, isolating him so he could be arrested without further bloodshed.

But the cost was enormous. Silas felt his bones begin to crack, felt his organs strain, felt his nervous system overload.

And then the cost was distributed. Spread out among dozens of people, each one taking a small portion of the pain, each one bearing a fraction of the burden.

It hurt. Gods, it hurt. But it was survivable.

The barrier formed, a shimmering wall of force that cut the Chancellor off from his supporters. He stood alone in the center of the cathedral, his face twisted with rage and fear.

"No!" he screamed. "This isn't possible! You can't—"

"It's over, Chancellor," Elara said, stepping out from behind the pillar. "Surrender. You've lost."

The Chancellor looked around wildly, seeing his guards held back by the barrier, seeing the nobility watching him with expressions ranging from horror to satisfaction, seeing General Blackwood's soldiers moving to surround him.

And then he did something desperate.

He reached for his Conduit Ring and began to cast a spell—a big one, a destructive one, the kind of spell that would bring down the entire cathedral and kill everyone inside.

"Stop him!" someone shouted.

But Silas was already moving. He ran toward the Chancellor, his body protesting every step, and tackled him before the spell could complete.

They hit the ground hard, and Silas felt something in his chest crack. But he held on, pinning the Chancellor down, preventing him from completing the spell.

"It's over," Silas said quietly. "Let it go."

The Chancellor struggled for a moment longer, then went limp. "You've ruined everything," he whispered. "Everything I worked for, everything I planned. Gone."

"You ruined it yourself," Silas replied. "The moment you decided that power was more important than people."

General Blackwood's soldiers moved in, pulling the Chancellor to his feet and binding his hands. The barrier dissolved, and the Chancellor's guards, seeing their leader captured, laid down their weapons.

The battle was over.

Silas stood slowly, his body screaming in protest. Through the bond, he felt Elara's relief and exhaustion, and he sent back a wave of the same.

They'd done it. Against all odds, against all logic, they'd actually done it.

The Chancellor was arrested. The coup was stopped. The kingdom was saved.

And they were still alive.

Barely.

*

End of Chapter 10