Echoes Under the Throne

Chapter 10 : Echoes Under the Throne

When the whole kingdom finally fell silent, and everyone fell into deep sleep, Rudravaan slipped out of the bar without anyone noticing.
A bottle hung from one hand, his sword from the other, a toothpick resting lazily in his mouth. His face was calm—almost emotionless—as he took a slow sip and walked through the quiet streets.

He eventually stopped in front of the old palace, the very place where the king had died.

Without hesitation, he stepped inside.

Bodies still lay across the stone floor, left where they had fallen during the battle. Rudravaan looked at them only once, then kept walking, boots echoing in the empty halls. The palace smelled of dried blood and burnt cloth.

He entered the throne room.

Blood covered the floor, shadows stretching across it like dark veins. The dead emperor lay slumped near the throne, motionless.

Rudravaan walked toward the corpse and searched it carefully, as if he already expected something to be hidden. But there was nothing.

His brows lowered slightly.

He searched the rest of the room—behind pillars, under fallen banners, around cracked walls. Still nothing.

Then his eyes shifted to the throne.

He walked toward it slowly, circling it once… twice… thinking.

Suddenly, as if an idea struck him, he uncorked his bottle and poured some beer onto the ground near the throne. The liquid spread, then slowly slid toward the throne instead of away.

His suspicion was confirmed.

Rudravaan gripped the throne and tried to move it—and to his surprise, it slid aside easily.

A staircase lay beneath it, leading down into darkness.

He descended without hesitation.

At the bottom, he found an ancient room—dusty, untouched for years. Shelves filled with old books lined the walls, and strange objects covered the tables. It looked older than the kingdom itself.

He looked around the underground room, dust drifting off each step he took. Reaching toward a shelf, he pulled out the first book he saw.
He flipped it open—only to find pages filled with kingdom income records.

“…Useless,” he muttered, sliding it back into place.

Rudravaan continued searching. His eyes caught something odd—a book shoved deep into the corner of a shelf, its cover half-rotted, pages brittle, as if time had almost erased it.

He pulled it free.

The moment he opened it, he saw a list of old emperors’ names. Line after line of ancient rulers…
He turned another page, looking for a clue—

—and froze.

His own name was written there.

Rudravaan smirked. “Oh? Now that’s unexpected. Someone actually bothered to include me in a book.”

He set it aside and searched the place again for more clues. After reading most of the books, he noticed something odd: the kingdom’s income had suddenly increased in recent years, yet there were no clear details about where that money came from.

After thinking for a while, he realized something—
the sudden increase began only after the chief guard arrived.

With that, he came to a conclusion:
some major kingdom had been backing this place financially.
But the motive remained unknown.

“I can only find out from that mystery man who appeared during the war,” he murmured.

He remembered the masked man on the battlefield and smiled, as if he had noticed something there that no one else did.

With that thought, he left the room, pushed the throne back into its place, left the palace, took a long sip from his bottle, and walked toward the bar.

Just as quietly as he had left, Rudravaan returned.
No one saw him slip through the shadows, climb into his room, or collapse into bed with the same calm expression he’d worn all night.

And just like that, the night ended.

Morning came loudly.

The kingdom erupted in celebration—shouts, laughter, music—echoing through the streets like an aftershock of victory. Henry burst into Rudravaan’s room, practically yelling,
“Hey! Wake up! Everyone’s already partying!”

Rudravaan groaned, dragging a hand over his face.
“You go,” he muttered. “I’ll come later.”

Henry rushed out to join Fenlor in the festivities.

The noise outside eventually forced Rudravaan out of bed. He yawned, stretched, and stepped out of the bar. People danced and cheered everywhere—some still drunk from the night before, some simply happy to breathe freely again.

Rudravaan approached the bartender, who was wiping down tables with a tired but genuine smile.

“As you said,” Rudravaan murmured, “I spent the night with you all. But now… I have to leave.”

The bartender’s smile faltered. It wasn’t surprise—it was resignation. He knew this moment would come, but that didn’t make it easier.

“I figured,” he said softly. “I’ll help you prepare.”

Rudravaan nodded. “One thing… now that the war’s over, does Fenlor still have to come with me?”

The bartender’s eyes dropped for a moment, then he exhaled.
“Isn’t that what you both agreed on? I’ve taught him everything I can. What comes next… is his own path.”

Rudravaan stared at him for a moment, then said,
“I’ll take care of him.”

A small smile touched the bartender’s face.
“I know you will.”

Rudravaan walked over to Fenlor, who was laughing among the crowd.
“Hey,” he said plainly, “you’re coming with me.”

Fenlor blinked in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“The bartender asked me to take you out into the world.”

Fenlor fell silent. He turned, walked back to the bartender, and asked quietly,
“…Did you really ask him to take me?”

The bartender didn’t hesitate.
“Yeah. I did.”

Fenlor’s expression tightened. “Why? I… I wanted to stay with you.”

The bartender’s voice softened, but his resolve did not.
“I’ve already taught you everything I can. There’s nothing left for me to teach.”
He paused, then added, “And you’re the one who always said you wanted to become the strongest. If that’s true… then follow Rudravaan. Only he can take you past your limits.”