Chapter 9: A Royal Decree

The four brothers finally found Jerrold in the castle's grand hall, surrounded by several nobles. The atmosphere was tense, and Arthur could sense that something was amiss.

As they approached, Jerrold turned to face them, a mixture of emotions on his face. "Brothers," he said, his voice laced with a hint of sadness. "I've been expecting you."

Desmor stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. "Jerrold, what's going on? Why are you meeting with the nobles in secret?"

Jerrold sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I'm afraid I have some difficult news to share with you, brothers. News that will change everything."

The nobles parted, revealing a figure cloaked in shadows. As the figure stepped forward, Arthur's eyes widened in shock.

It was their father, the king.

"Father!" Arthur exclaimed, stunned. "What's going on?"

The king's eyes, once warm and loving, now seemed cold and calculating. "My sons," he began, his voice dripping with an air of superiority. "I'm afraid the time has come for me to reveal a long-held secret."

Desmor's eyes narrowed. "What secret, Father?"

The king smiled, a cold, mirthless smile. "Only one of you can take over the throne and rule the kingdom. The others... will have to be eliminated."

Arthur's eyes widened in horror. "What? Father, no!"

The king's expression remained unyielding. "It is the way of our family, my sons. The strongest will rule, and the weakest will fall."

Antorn's face paled. "You can't be serious, Father."

Gedeon's eyes flashed with anger. "I won't do it," he spat. "I won't fight my brothers."

The king's gaze turned cold. "You will do as you're told, Gedeon. You will fight, and you will win. Or you will die."

Arthur felt a chill run down his spine. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. His father, the man he had always admired and respected, was ordering them to fight each other to the death.

Desmor's voice was low and menacing. "We won't do it, Father. We won't fight each other."

The king's smile grew wider. "We'll see about that, my sons. You have one month to prepare. After that, the games will begin."

As the king turned to leave, Arthur felt a sense of dread wash over him. He knew that his life, and the lives of his brothers, would never be the same again.

The nobles closed in, their faces eager with anticipation. Arthur's brothers stood frozen, their eyes locked on the king's retreating back.

Arthur's mind reeled with questions. What did the king mean by "the games"? What would happen to them during this month of preparation? And what would be the ultimate cost of their survival?

As the reality of their situation sunk in, Arthur knew that he and his brothers would have to rely on each other if they wanted to survive. But could they trust each other, knowing that only one of them could emerge victorious?

The fate of the kingdom, and the lives of the de la Morvayn brothers, hung in the balance. The question was, who would be the last one standing?

As they stood there, trying to process the king's words, Gedeon spoke up, his voice laced with determination. "We'll find a way out of this," he said. "We'll work together and-"

Desmor's voice cut him off. "No, Gedeon. The king has spoken. Only one of us can rule."

Arthur felt a pang of sadness. He knew that his brothers were right. The king's decree was clear: only one of them could take over the throne.

As they stood there, the tension between them was palpable. Arthur knew that their relationship would never be the same again.

The question was, what would happen next? Would they be able to work together, or would they be forced to turn against each other? Only time would tell.

But one thing was certain: the fate of the kingdom, and the lives of the de la Morvayn brothers, would never be the same again.

The games were about to begin, and only one brother would emerge victorious.

As they stood there, lost in thought, the door to the grand hall burst open, and a figure strode in. It was a messenger, dressed in the king's livery.

"My lords," the messenger said, bowing low. "The king requests your presence in the throne room."

Arthur's heart sank. What did the king want now?

Desmor's voice was low and menacing. "We're coming," he said.

As they followed the messenger to the throne room, Arthur couldn't shake the feeling.