I Reincarnated As My Waifu, What Do? 23

"SILENCE..!"

The weight of father's movement... I was not prepared for it.

The pulpit before him was thrown away like it weighed nothing. Father had no true equal, not anymore, not since the only man who was of similar power lost an arm. Father was a man whom even Demons feared, for whose death our enemies mobilized an entire army.

He landed before me like a thundering bolt from the heavens themselves, as the chief deity of Trom given flesh, embodying our very ancestor. 

And then he bent down and put his hands on my shoulders. "Noire, are you okay? I didn't hurt you did I?" he asked, turning me around, looking me all over, looking for scratches or splinters. My dress had, of course, prevented the wooden splinters from reaching my skin at all. He turned my face, and I couldn't help the giggle that came out of me as he looked me over. 

He stood back up, to his full height, and stepped back. "You have made heavy accusations, Princess Noire," he said, invoking my title to remind everyone of who I was, and of who he was. He was making it a point, only he could rebuke me, only he could chastise me, for he was the King, and I was second only in stature to him, in our beloved Kingdom. "Do you stand by them?"

"Of course, Fa- your majesty," I said, clenching my fist. "I've played the mindless fool, I've subverted these men's own confidants, I've spied, stolen and betrayed, for the sake of our country. I stand before you, not as the Princess you've known, but as the true self I've hid for so very long," I said. "I stand before you as a servant of our Kingdom, your majesty."

He closed his eyes.

"By the authority vested in me by my ancestors and their ancestors, by the power of my forefathers and their forefathers," he shouted, unleashing the power that had made him a nightmare in the battlefield, the terrifying presence of a King of the Battlefield, forged in battle and tempered in war. "You stand before your King - speak your name!"

Terror coursed through me, paralyzing like the jaws of winter closing around my legs, electrifying like the gods' wrath from the skies, all consuming, all encompassing.

Everything around me, around us, was shrinking, fading away into darkness, as my world became reduced, to me, and the ever expandingly enormous figure of power and authority before me. My body was responding, but I was not, I shivered, I wanted to move, I wanted to bolt, I wanted to flee, I wanted to run, but I could not do anything... 

This fear... This was father's might, not a skill, not an ability, but the simple reality of the King of Trom exerting the full extent of his presence upon someone.

I had never experienced this, not ever, not once, not directed at me, it was-

Magnificently terrifying.

Even the realization of what was happening did little to assuage my body of the terror it experienced. Though my soul was stronger, my body quaked in fear before its angry parent.

"My name is-" I stopped, my throat going dry. I couldn't say it. I could not speak my name. Was this Father's power's doing? I knew he had some degree of command of those he intimidated... but was it this strong? Could I not even say my name..?

No...

Wait.

Why?

Why couldn't I say it. My hands reached to my throat, and the world shook around me, twisted, darkenned and shrank around me, as if the darkness itself was reaching for me. Why, why why why!? Why can't I!? Why can't I respond to such a simple question!?

No, no no no, this can't be, I can't let it be like this, why can't I - even something this simple, why can't I?!?

My name, my name, what's my name!? What is my name!?

I am- The princess- no, I am- I am..?

I am?

Was I?

I wasn't.

"Our name is Trom, we stand for all of us," I said, simply and clearly, serenity coursing through me. 

Princess Noire could not answer this question, because Princess Noire had always been a façade, an entity that existed as a disguise. She had never truly been me. Had never been us. And I understood now... I could see it clearly.

"Noire..?" Father seemed shocked.

"This country's wound has festered for decades... those who've made their fortunes in war, those who disdain their lessers, abuse their power, ignore their responsibility... We are sick, we are tired, we are weak and we are hungry," I spoke, giving voice to the thought of them all, all the people to whom I was connected by the power I was given when I was sent here...

I don't know what I was given this power for, but I know what I will use it for.

My senses expanded. Dozens. Hundreds of people. More and more. I touched their minds, I gave them orders. I gave them ideas. I showed them the way, and through me, they connected to each other. The dream of any military commander. Perfect and instant transmission of orders, without the use of words. Synchronicity and efficiency. No movements wasted. Everyone shared the same communal pool of knowledge and ability.

Even as I stood before father, I guided my people across the city, across the domains of others. Quickly moving from scene to scene, straining the limits of my ability to keep up, as father processed what I had said.

"No more..!" I shouted. "No more will their evil be allowed to run rampant, no more shall they ignore their divinely ordained duty..!" I added, pointing my finger at father, to remind him that it was his duty, that it was his decision. "Speak the words, seal their fate, let us treat the disease and sickness that afflicts our country."

Father closed his eyes. "Men. Soldiers. Execute Princess Noire's orders. No one walks out of here until we've vetted all of them," he said. "Noire, your conviction has been heard. The passion in your words holds true," he spoke, firmly, but somewhat sadly.

There was much protestation, much anger, much noise, around us, as the world came back into motion. The soldiers moved. Their King had spoken. The nobles cried out in outrage, they protested, they shouted, but they went unheard, for the King's people and my people were deaf to their cries.

I made sure that nobody in the Royal Guard was corrupt, unless they were corrupted by me. Father's guards were no different. 

Was this it?

The final stroke?

"Follow me, Noire," father said, turning around. I did as he said.

Together, we walked through the castle, father dismissing the pleas of the noblemen as the soldiers made sure that those who I had called out were brought out in chains, while the rest were sent back to their lands, fear and terror struck into their hearts. Many a one was aware of the conspiracy, but they had not chosen to participate, for one reason or another. They had remained quiet, in the face of a plot to overthrow their King.

They would know now just how foolish their would be co conspirators were.

Soon enough, Father took me to one of the roofed green spaces of the castle, a small circular courtyard greenhouse combination. It was big... I knew this place. Many times had I walked through it, smelled the flowers. Once or twice, I'd even trained with a sword here. It was meant to be a private area for the royal family, the highest of aristocrats.

But...

The atmosphere was heavy.

Father hadn't spoken a single word on the way here. Neither had I.

I felt compelled to stop, when we stepped onto the paved, circular area at the center of the garden. It was many meters wide. 

"My kingdom is burning," he said, as he walked to the other side of the circular platform. He didn't sound regretful, or particularly angry. He sounded... defeated. "I am not so much of a fool that I can't see how foolish I've been," he spoke, as he reached the other end, and turned around to face me. "I am a man of war, a man of action and a man of violence. I am a warrior, Noire, before I am a King," he spoke, closing his eyes.

I stood straight. The military uniform made it very easy. 

"But I am still the King. Today, you've overstepped my authority. Today, you reached beyond me, and grasped this country in a way I could not even dream of," he said. "Ancestors, heed me," he spoke, raising one of his hands, his immense stature making it seem like he might even be able to reach the distant glass ceiling. His hand opened, as if he were holding a weapon. 

I felt it, then. Power gathering.

"I beseech you, bear witness!" he shouted. "This trial..!" I could see his muscles tightening, almost visibly growing in size, as he was seemingly engulfed in an invisible aura, as if his power itself was made manifest..! And there it was! In a golden flash, a weapon appeared in his hand, an extremely oversized sword, with a large, broad and thick blade, golden in color, with a jeweled hilt. "Behold, Noire! This is the Sword of Trom, gifted to us by our divine ancestor, ages ago!" he shouted. "This sword will be your trial, and I, your judge!" he shouted, pointing the sword at me.

I felt a combination of fear and excitement course through me, as the realization of what was to happen dawned upon me.

"Call upon it, and it will answer," Father shouted. "Draw your blade..! This is your last trial, descendant of the gods, stand before your predecessor, and earn your throne in combat!"

Father! "What- but I-"

"Noire!" he shouted. "If you truly do answer to the name of Trom, then seize the throne, right here, right now!" he spoke. 

I...

I closed my eyes.

This was meant to happen. I never wanted it to. I still don't.

I have no aim for my father's throne or crown.

But I can never be anything else.

When my eyes opened, my weapon was in my hand. Father's choice was an extremely large, terrifying weapon, longer, thicker and broader than I am. 

Mine was almost its equal in length, but thinner, simpler in design, lighter.

Twisted like a raging flame, and as I swung it, trailing behind it the heat and ardor of my people's passion. Each and every one of their wills was with me, behind me, supporting me.

Father and I stood opposite each other, swords drawn.

Our ancestors witnessed our battle, as we engaged in combat.