Chapter 45 – The ice monarch.
Meanwhile, in Atlantis:
Atlantis.
The city of eternal ice, built upon the waves, glittered with a thousand silver reflections under the first rays of morning. Its crystalline towers rose toward the sky like frozen blades, and each gust of wind made their surfaces resonate with a crystalline music, both gentle and unsettling.
Yet, behind this icy beauty, unease reigned.
Merlin walked through the palace's immaculate corridors, his hands clasped behind his back. His long blue cloak swept across the crystal floor with each step. His tired eyes were fixed on the ground, and his mind kept returning to the same thought:
Arthur.
Since his departure for Britania, there had been no news. Not a trace of magic, not a sign of life. Even for him, Merlin, whose sight often pierced the veils of space and time, the aura of his king remained elusive. It was as if the world itself had hidden Arthur from his perception.
He stopped before a large window overlooking the frozen ocean. The waves, frozen by Atlantis's magical cold, seemed motionless.
— Lord Arthur… don't abandon me, he murmured, clutching his staff.
— You seem worried, I see.
The voice, mocking and slightly ironic, came from the end of the corridor. Merlin turned and saw Edward approaching with his usual confidence. His posture was upright, his royal garments a brilliant white, and a sarcastic smile lingered on his lips.
— Arthur left a long time ago, Edward said, stepping closer. You should know he doesn't need your prayers to survive.
— I know what Arthur is capable of, Merlin replied, frowning. But… something worries me. I feel… a distortion. As if a foreign power had swallowed his aura.
Edward raised an eyebrow, an amused glint in his gaze.
— Now you're turning poet. Perhaps… he's simply too busy striking down his enemies.
Merlin averted his gaze.
— You don't understand.
Edward sighed.
— Never mind. Anyway, King Agnor will soon be ready to receive him. So keep your worries to yourself and focus on the essential.
At the mention of Agnor's name, Merlin stiffened. Even he, with all his wisdom, struggled to grasp this monarch. King of Ice. Lord of Atlantis. One of the oldest and most mysterious beings this world had ever known.
Merlin resumed his walk, accompanied by Edward. They passed through a succession of immense halls, the walls covered in bluish runes that pulsed with a supernatural cold.
Finally, arriving before the massive doors of the throne room, Merlin closed his eyes for a moment.
He placed a hand on his chest, and his lips whispered a discreet prayer:
— May nothing harm him…
Suddenly, a crash erupted.
A dazzling white light pierced the palace's stained glass. The ground shook, the towers vibrated. A blinding flash crashed onto one of the palace terraces, raising a gust of icy wind.
The guards rushed forward, halberds in hand. Edward squinted, annoyed.
— What was that, now?
Merlin felt his heart leap. He ran, his cloak flapping behind him, and crossed the great arch leading to the terrace.
There, amid the shards of ice, covered in dust, his clothes torn, his face marked by fatigue, but standing…
Arthur.
— Lord Arthur…!
Merlin threw himself at his side, embracing him, unable to contain his emotion.
Arthur, surprised, froze for a moment, then gently tapped his companion's shoulder.
— I'm fine, Merlin. No need to worry this much.
Edward arrived shortly after, crossing his arms. A sarcastic smile stretched across his lips.
— So, done with your little heroic stroll? Welcome to Atlantis, King of Britania. But do yourself a favor—change. You're covered in dust, and in three minutes, King Agnor awaits.
Arthur sighed, a mix of weariness and amusement in his gaze.
— Always so welcoming, Edward.
Merlin wanted to bombard him with questions, to understand what he had faced, but Arthur raised a hand.
— Later. I'll tell you everything. For now… let's prepare.
They retraced the corridors. Three minutes later, the massive doors of the throne room opened.
A chilling breath escaped, biting to the bone.
Arthur, Merlin, and Edward stepped through.
And there, seated upon his azure throne carved from a block of eternal ice, his gaze piercing and his aura as cold as it was unfathomable… Agnor.
The throne room of Atlantis was a cathedral of ice and silence. The walls murmured like the surface of a lake under the ice, and at its center, Agnor's throne dominated the space with an authority that allowed no frivolity. Ancient runes ran along the steps. Even the scent of the room betrayed the presence of a power orderly, glacial, and precise.
The King of Atlantis, the monarch of ice, stood before them.
And Arthur, for the first time in a long while, felt a strange sensation run through his mind.
Arthur entered alongside Merlin. His step was firm, his cloak flowing behind him, his gaze still marked by the gravity of the battles that had shaken Britania. Agnor's eyes settled on him, icy yet curious, while his body remained perfectly still on the throne.
— Arthur, greeted Agnor in a voice both soft and cutting. The young King of Britania. Welcome to Atlantis.
Arthur inclined his head slightly, a sign of respect but also of defiance.
— Agnor. Your Majesty.
A heavy silence followed, where even the air seemed to hold its breath. Then, in a fine and calculating smile, Agnor rose and slowly descended the steps of his throne, approaching with measured, assured steps.
— You know, he said, placing his hands on the throne's backrest, we should talk of this and that, Arthur. Get to know one another… exchange thoughts on our strengths and weapons, on our realms. After all, you are young, but ambitious. And I… am… patient.
Arthur crossed his arms. Merlin felt a shiver run down his spine but remained silent. Agnor's voice, though warm to the ear, dripped with sarcasm. Every word carried subtle condescension, as if Arthur were just a child playing at being king.
— So, how fares your army? Arthur asked in a neutral, controlled voice. I imagine you have few forces and weapons left after your last campaigns.
Agnor chuckled softly, a dry, icy sound.
— Oh, you know, we're never short of… resources. But tell me, young king, how fares your soldier who infiltrated the Black Continent?
Arthur froze, his eyes widening. Merlin placed a hand on his shoulder, uneasy.
— The Black Continent… Merlin murmured. That is… a secret mission. How…?
— I have eyes everywhere, Agnor cut in with a sly smile. There is nothing I do not know, Arthur. Nothing. Every movement, every breath, every decision is… under my watch. Even your most secret missions. Even those you think… invisible.
Arthur drew a deep breath, trying to contain his tension.
— So you are capable of seeing everything…
— Exactly, replied Agnor, his piercing gaze fixing Arthur like a predator sizing its prey. You may defy me, but know this: I know every thread, every string of your kingdom and your forces. Nothing escapes me.
Merlin, worried and hurried, wanted to intervene.
— Agnor… it is dangerous to speak to Arthur this way, Your Majesty…
Arthur raised a hand, signaling him to be silent. The King of Britania did not need protection to face Agnor; he just needed to maintain control of the situation.
— Now, said Agnor, it is time to sign the alliance treaty. An alliance… that could change the balance of power across all realms.
Merlin frowned and stepped forward:
— I must read it before Arthur signs.
Edward, lounging nonchalantly in a corner, raised an eyebrow.
— Merlin, do you doubt your king? he asked, his voice laced with sarcasm.
— No, Merlin replied calmly. I am just… cautious and prudent.
Arthur remained silent, observing Agnor. Merlin unfolded the parchment, examining it carefully, rune by rune. Then he whispered a few discreet incantations, activating a spell to nullify camouflage, capable of detecting any concealment, forgery, or hidden magic.
Nothing. The parchment was pure, clean, with no trace of deceit.
Arthur's gaze met Agnor's. A silent yet violent tension passed between them, as if the air itself trembled under their confrontation. Arthur took the pen and signed the treaty with a firm gesture. The echo of the magical seal resounded in the room, and the parchment shimmered slightly, confirming its validity.
— Perfect, murmured Agnor, a cold smile on his lips. We have an agreement.
Without waiting, Arthur and Merlin prepared for teleportation. The magical portal's runes lit up. Arthur cast one last glance at Agnor, who watched them disappear, impassive.
As the light engulfed them and they vanished, Agnor turned away from the throne. He stared into the void, thoughtful, before speaking in a low voice to Edward:
— That Merlin annoys me. As long as he is here, I will not be able to control Arthur as much as I would like…
He advanced before the ice wall in the throne room, his steps echoing on the frozen marble. And with a gesture, an isolated chamber opened, hidden from all eyes. He stopped before a block of ice. Inside, a woman appeared trapped, motionless but conscious. The magic holding her glimmered faintly around her. Agnor placed his hand on the ice and murmured:
— Soon, you… soon this power will be mine.
A malevolent smile spread across his lips
Edward, still by his side, watched the scene with unease:
— And what about the other events? The three former criminals you had sent… Arthur killed them. What will you do now?
Agnor slowly turned, his eyes gleaming with cold calculation.
— Merlin surely knows where the heart of Britania lies. We must capture him.
Edward frowned.
— And me? What am I to do?
— Nothing. For now, I have done my part of the deal by summoning Arthur. Now… my target is Merlin. It is time to prepare the next phase.
Edward nodded slightly, understanding the imminent danger. Agnor chuckled, the sound resonating through the hall like a metallic echo.
— And the Illuminati, continued Edward?
— The Illuminati, those idiots… they are only pawns in my service. I will destroy them all, one by one. And when that is done… I will become immortal.
The smile on Agnor's face was icy, almost supernatural. The room seemed to vibrate under the intensity of his power, the ambient magic thickening, heavy and oppressive. Edward felt the weight of the future pressing upon their shoulders as Agnor withdrew his hand from the ice, leaving behind an aura of darkness and menace.
The palace was silent. Too silent. Too heavy. Too… deadly.
Agnor turned back to the ice block, staring at the imprisoned woman. He closed his eyes for a moment, then murmured, almost to himself:
— Soon, everything will be perfect. And the world will tremble beneath my dominion.
Edward, slightly worried but loyal, remained silent. He knew that the slightest mistake now could compromise everything. For the moment, he would follow his master, ready to execute his orders.
The ambient cold intensified, the runes on the walls pulsing with icy energy. Atlantis seemed to hold its breath, as if the entire city sensed the imminent danger looming over the outside world.
In the frozen silence, Agnor gave a subtle smile, alone and confident in his power, while darkness began to spread within his mind, preparing the next stages of his plan.
The monarch of ice had just declared war… but this time, it would be subtler, more relentless, and no one was ready to face it.
To be continued (end of Volume 1)…