Chains of Divinity

King Aldric's war chamber was a testament to mortal power—maps of contested territories spread across tables of ancient oak, weapons of legendary heroes mounted on walls that had witnessed centuries of strategy and sacrifice. But now it felt more like a cage, with two predators circling each other.

"You are out of control." The king's voice carried the weight of his crown, each word measured and sharp.

Orin stood before him, divine light crackling beneath his skin. "I am doing what must be done."

"What must be done?" Aldric's laugh was bitter as winter frost. "You interrogated the dwarven ambassador's son. You accused the elven mage council of harboring spies. Tell me, Champion of the Gods, how does alienating our allies serve the divine will?"

"They refuse to submit to divine judgment," Orin's voice dripped contempt. "That alone is suspicious."

The king's fist slammed against the war table, sending tactical markers scattering. "Damn your suspicions! While you hunt shadows, our real enemies grow stronger. The dwarves threaten to withdraw their support. The elves speak of breaking our alliance. You have weakened our army more than Kael ever has!"

"You are letting weakness poison this war, my king." The title carried a subtle mockery that made the air itself grow colder.

Deadly silence filled the chamber. The torches seemed to dim, as if even they feared what was coming.

"Choose your next words carefully, Orin." Aldric's voice was dangerously soft. "Remember who you speak to."

"I speak to a king who fears political consequences more than divine judgment." Orin stepped forward, his armor gleaming with barely contained power. "The gods care nothing for mortal alliances. They demand purity, strength, absolute devotion—"

"The gods?" Aldric cut him off, matching his advance. "Where are your gods now, Orin? When was the last time they answered your prayers? The last time they guided your hand?"

Divine energy crackled visibly around Orin's clenched fists. "You dare question—"

"I dare everything!" Aldric roared, his carefully maintained composure finally breaking. "I am king! While you play at being divine judgment, I must keep this kingdom alive. This is not a war of purity, you zealous fool. This is a war for survival. And I will not have you destroying our alliances over your paranoid crusade!"

"Then you are weaker than I thought." Orin's words fell like ice into the heated air.

Aldric moved faster than his royal robes suggested possible. In an instant, he was inches from Orin's face, his eyes burning with a fury that had nothing to do with divine power. "I have led armies while you were still learning to hold a sword. I have kept alliances strong while you played at being the gods' chosen. Do not mistake political wisdom for weakness, boy."

"Political wisdom?" Orin's laugh was hollow. "Is that what you call it? Compromising with those who might harbor traitors? Protecting potential enemies because they bring you gold and soldiers?"

"Yes." Aldric's voice could have frozen flame. "Because without those allies, without those soldiers, without those resources—we lose. Not just a battle, not just a war. Everything. Is that what you want, Champion? To stand pure and alone while Kael burns the world?"

"If that is what the gods demand—"

"The gods demand nothing!" Aldric's roar shook dust from the ancient rafters. "You haven't heard their voices in weeks. You chase phantoms of your own making, destroying everything we've built because you cannot bear the silence of your divine masters!"

Divine energy exploded from Orin's form, sending papers flying and making the very stones of the chamber groan. "You go too far, my king."

"No." Aldric didn't flinch from the display of power. "You went too far the moment you put your paranoid faith above the survival of your people. I won't let you destroy everything we've built. I won't let you—"

"You won't let me?" Orin's voice had gone quiet, dangerous. "You think your crown gives you authority over divine rule?"

"I think my crown gives me responsibility to protect our people—even from those who claim to serve them." Aldric's hand fell to the sword at his hip. "This is your last warning, Orin. Stand down. Remember your place."

"My place?" Something twisted in Orin's expression—something that made even the battle-hardened king take half a step back. "My place is wherever the gods guide me. And if they guide me to purge weakness from our ranks—even royal weakness—then so be it."

He turned to leave, divine power still crackling around him. At the chamber door, he paused. "Pray to your political allies, my king. You'll need them when the gods finally show their hand."

The door slammed behind him, leaving King Aldric alone in his war chamber, surrounded by maps of a kingdom that was fracturing from within.