Eternity of the Shattered Crown

The air inside the meeting hall was thick with tension, heavy enough that it felt like a blade hanging above them all. The stone walls, normally cold and lifeless, now pulsed with the heat of too many bodies crowded into too small a space. Outside, the village was quiet, but not with peace—with anticipation.

Eldermere was on the edge of something dangerous.

Aric could feel it in the way the villagers shifted, stealing glances at one another, at him. Some stood with arms crossed, expressions uncertain. Others, like Lira and Kael, leaned against the back wall, their weapons close at hand. Garrick, however, stood in the center of the room, his jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists.

"We need to talk about what happens next." His voice was steady, but there was steel in it, the kind of determination that could break a man or forge him into something harder. "We followed you into battle, Aric. We defended our home because we had no choice. But war is over now."

Aric said nothing, waiting.

Garrick took a step forward. "You gave us no choice when you led us into battle. But now, I say we take back our choice." He looked around at the gathered villagers. "I say we vote for a leader—a real leader. Not a warlord. Not a man who came out of nowhere and took command just because he was the best with a sword."

The murmurs started small, but they spread like fire through the crowd. Some agreed. Some hesitated. Others looked to Aric, waiting to see how he would respond.

Kael clicked his tongue. "This is a waste of time."

Garrick turned on him. "Is it? We were never meant to fight wars. We're farmers. Blacksmiths. Traders. Do you think the nobles will just keep sending their armies? You think the Rift will keep throwing monsters at us forever?"

Kael smirked. "Yes."

Lira sighed. "You really should be better at reading people, Garrick."

"I read people just fine," he snapped. "And I see a man standing in front of us who took command when we were desperate. But we're not desperate anymore. We should be deciding our future together."

Aric felt every eye on him.

It would be so easy to cut this short. Simply say no. To remind them that without him, Eldermere wouldn't exist anymore. But he didn't speak—not yet.

Because part of him wanted to know what they would say if he didn't.

And what he heard was uncertainty.

Not defiance. Not rebellion. Not yet.

But the beginnings of something dangerous.

Garrick took a breath, steeling himself. "If you believe you should lead us, then prove it. Let the village decide."

Lira rolled her eyes. "You're an idiot."

The murmurs grew louder.

Someone called out, "He's right!"

Another voice—uncertain, but there: "We fought for our survival, not to become another kingdom."

Then, from the back of the hall, a voice Aric hadn't expected.

"I'd follow him."

Silence.

Hale, the village's blacksmith, stepped forward. His apron was still streaked with soot, his arms thick with muscle from years of hammering steel. He looked at Aric, then at the others.

"He saved my family," Hale said simply. "He didn't have to. He could've let the Rift take us, let the nobles burn us down. But he didn't. That means something."

Another villager, an older woman with gray-streaked hair, nodded. "We'd be dead without him."

But Garrick wasn't done. "He's leading us straight into another war. Look around! We barely have enough food to survive the winter, and now the nobles see us as an enemy. How long before they send another army? Before another war comes? How long before this village turns into just another kingdom—another noble house where we bow to a man on a throne?"

A long, tense silence.

Then Aric finally spoke.

"Leave, then."

Garrick froze.

"If you don't want to be here," Aric said, voice even, "then leave. No one is forcing you to stay."

Garrick's mouth opened, but no words came.

"But if you stay," Aric continued, stepping forward, his voice calm, unshakable, "then understand this: I don't want a throne. I don't want banners or titles. I want to survive. I want to make sure this village doesn't die. That's all." He let his gaze sweep across the hall, meeting each uncertain stare. "You can follow me or not. But don't mistake survival for tyranny."

The room was silent.

Garrick's jaw clenched. He turned, shoving past the crowd. Others followed, their faces unreadable.

But most stayed.

And for now, that was enough.

Later that night, Lira found him by the old watchtower, staring out toward the darkened forest.

"You know this isn't over, right?" she said.

"I know."

"They're still afraid of you."

Aric sighed. "They should be."

She studied him for a moment, then glanced back toward the village. "Some of them are talking about leaving."

"Let them."

"Some of them are talking about something else."

Aric turned. "What?"

She hesitated. Then, finally, said the words he already knew were coming.

"There's talk of killing you."

The words didn't surprise him.

It was always like this. A leader only lasted as long as they were useful.

And there would always be those who thought that killing him would solve their problems.

Lira sighed. "I don't think it's all of them. Maybe just a few. But it's enough to be a problem."

Aric's fingers tightened on the hilt of his sword. "Then let's solve it."

Lira smirked. "That's the spirit."

She turned to leave, but Aric caught her wrist. "Lira."

She raised a brow.

"Who?"

Her smirk faded.

"Garrick," she said, after a moment. "And a few others. They think you're leading them straight into another war."

Aric exhaled slowly. He had expected it.

But hearing it confirmed was different.

Lira watched him carefully. "What are you going to do?"

He didn't answer right away.

Finally, he said, "Wait."

She blinked. "What?"

"I'm going to wait," he said, voice quiet. "Because if they're already thinking about it, it means they'll make a move soon. And when they do, I'll be ready."

Lira grinned. "Cunning. I like it."

Aric didn't smile.

Because he wasn't sure if this was cunning.

Or if it was simply the way all kings began.

And whether he wanted it or not, the village had already chosen.