273 The Burden of Kingship

The tribespeople… they were not looking at a warrior.

They were looking at a master.

“Hail the king.”

A trembling elder was the first to drop to his knees.

“Hail the king…!”

One by one, the rest followed.

William had seen this sight many times before, but the atmosphere was different now.

Before, when they had knelt, it had been with hope—the belief that they had found a worthy ruler.

But now…

It was fear.

Fear of incurring the wrath of something far beyond their comprehension.

William let out a quiet chuckle.

‘This is the effect I wanted… but maybe I overdid it a little.’

From the very beginning, sparing Ivar had never been an option.

An old ruler would never recognize a new one. The only way forward was to eliminate him.

However, Ivar held a certain level of prestige among the tribespeople. Even for William, simply executing him outright risked stirring resistance, subtle though it might be.

That was why he had intended to overwhelm Ivar completely, leaving no room for dispute, no choice but to accept the outcome.

Yet, instead of mere submission, he had instilled something far stronger—fear.

The effect was too much.

In the short term, it was not necessarily a bad thing, William mused. Fear kept opposition at bay. But if this atmosphere persisted, it would do more harm than good. At some point, it would need to be alleviated.

Fear kept people from voicing their grievances, but silencing them entirely was dangerous. The discontent of the ruled could only be addressed if it was known, yet here it would fester in silence, unseen.

Still, for now, it worked to his advantage. Best to use this momentum and finish things quickly.

Regardless of whether the atmosphere had aligned with his intent, it was already established. The wise course of action was to make use of it.

With an even voice, William turned to face the gathered tribespeople, his words carrying across the hushed crowd.

“I gave Ivar multiple chances,” he declared. “I granted him the opportunity to step down as chieftain and serve me, as dictated by the will of the dragon. Yet, despite losing the dragon’s blessing, he clung to his position and continued to seek my life.”

A solemn silence settled over the crowd.

“There is nothing more disgraceful than a man who refuses to let go of power already lost. And so, I teach this lesson with his head as proof. Let this be passed down through the generations.”

A true king had come, yet the former ruler had clung to his throne. Let them see what became of such men.

Let them witness the fate of those who mistook another’s right for their own.

The weight of William’s words pressed upon them, and the tribespeople bowed even lower, their postures heavy with reverence.

To them, Ivar had been a warrior worthy of respect. But the one who now stood before them was a king, as if descended by the dragon itself. If he had declared this truth, then so it must be.

But then, one among them, a man bolder than the rest, hesitantly raised his voice.

“Then… why was Ainar spared…?”

The moment the words left his mouth, a dull thud rang out as his forehead slammed against the ground.

His wife had struck him, her expression stricken with horror.

“You fool! Questioning the king’s words—have you lost your mind?!”

William only chuckled, amused by the exchange.

“It’s fine. Let him be. I was going to explain anyway.”

With an easy smile, he continued, “Because only Ainar saw Ivar’s greed for what it was and felt shame. He never intended to fight. He sought atonement through death, not victory.”

The man’s eyes widened. “I—Is that so?”

William’s gaze sharpened. “Do you doubt me?”

“N-No! Of course not!”

The man immediately lowered his head again, pressing his forehead to the ground. He had already overstepped once—daring to question the explanation as well was no different from inviting death.

With that, the matter was settled. William swept his gaze over the crowd once more before delivering his final decree.

“Ainar alone knew shame and willingly chose death. As king, I grant him one final chance.”

The same chance that had once been extended to his father—only to be rejected.

Perhaps it was mercy. Perhaps it was unnecessary. But William judged that Ainar had earned the right to decide.

“Take Ainar inside. When he wakes, I will ask him.”

Would he serve his new king?

Or would he follow his family into death?

William’s command was met with deep bows from the gathered tribespeople. They would not dare defy him.

Am I still alive…?

Through the haze of his vision, Ainar slowly blinked.

There was no need to pinch himself to check. Every inch of his body ached, as though he had tumbled down the peak of a snowy mountain.

Judging by the pain, I suppose I must be.

“Awake?”

The voice startled him.

Forcing his battered body to turn, Ainar met the gaze of his visitor and let out a low groan.

“The foreign king…”

William smirked at the title.

“That’s how you saw me? Unexpectedly generous of you.”

For him to use the word king so naturally, even in his dazed state—it meant that, deep down, he had already accepted William’s rule.

Slowly regaining his senses, Ainar swallowed and asked the question that burned in his mind.

“My father and Brund… What happened to them?”

“They’re dead,” William replied flatly. “Both beheaded.”

“By your hand?”

“Who else’s?”

“I see…”

Ainar let out a long, heavy breath and slumped against the ground.

It wasn’t surprising, not in the least. But still, the taste it left in his mouth was bitter.

If only he had accepted reality sooner. If only he had acknowledged William as king.

If only he had forced his father and brother to kneel before William.

Perhaps…

Perhaps then, they might have been spared.

“Don’t waste your thoughts on useless things.”

William’s voice cut through his regrets.

“Do you really think it would have changed anything? If they refused to accept their fate of their own will, they would have turned their fangs on me sooner or later. Even if, by some miracle, things had gone differently, I would have dealt with them myself eventually.”

Ainar closed his eyes.

He had no answer to that.