Stolen by the Beastly Lycan King-Chapter 147: The New King

"The sky is so dark today," Marquess Frederick remarked as he stepped down from his carriage, adjusting the black outer coat of his mourning attire.

Since the official announcement of King Yanis Erelith’s death, it seemed as though even the weather had joined the kingdom in mourning.

The kingdom’s unease over the looming threat of war, compounded by Duke Kalder’s death and the sudden disappearance of Princess Lorelai, had temporarily given way to a profound collective grief.

Dark gray clouds obscured the sun, casting a somber pall over midday. They hung in the sky like dirty cotton strewn across a pale, rain-soaked canvas.

A gray sky seemed fitting for a funeral, though this gloom had persisted since the day the crown prince ended his pursuit of the beasts and returned to the capital.

As Frederick walked the wilting pathways leading to the royal graveyard, he couldn’t help but notice how foreboding the royal palace appeared in the distance.

It feels as if Her Highness took the last remnants of life and light from this place when she was taken away...

Letting out a long, heavy sigh, he straightened his coat once more and continued toward the burial grounds.

All the nobles of Erelith were assembled there, standing in grim silence around an empty plot in the royal cemetery behind the palace.

Reserved for royalty alone, the burial site was framed by the melancholic hues of black-clad mourners and the dismal weather. It was a picture-perfect funeral, shrouded in sorrow.

The ceremony was brief, as though the man who had departed this world meant little to those bidding him farewell. Once the priest concluded the rites, it was time to place flowers in the King’s coffin.

After the royal family, Duke Winterberg was the first nobleman to offer flowers. Holding a pristine white lily, he approached the coffin where the King’s lifeless body lay.

When it was his turn, Marquess Garlan observed the arrangement of white flowers adorning the late monarch’s body. They seemed almost ominous in their purity.

Strangely, amidst the delicate white blooms, the King’s body appeared more vibrant in death than it ever had in life. As Marquess Garlan stared at the corpse, draped in ceremonial robes and crowned with the symbol of his reign, an uneasy sensation crept over him.

Here lies the end of an era... Heavens, how I wish the princess were here! Without her, it feels as though the entire kingdom is teetering on the brink of madness!

Marquess Frederick suppressed a frown as he placed his flower beside the King and returned to his seat.

While the other nobles proceeded to offer their own flowers, his gaze shifted to the first row of chairs. The Queen sat motionless, dressed in an elegant black gown. Though her face was concealed beneath a black veil and wide-brimmed hat, her demeanor betrayed no hint of sorrow.

Frederick hadn’t expected the Queen to shed tears over the King’s death. Her devotion had always been reserved for her son alone. She was likely more preoccupied with her delight at the prospect of the Crown Prince’s imminent ascension to the throne.

The flower offering was nearing its end, and soon it would be time for the royal family to deliver their speeches before the coffin was lowered into the ground, never to be seen again.

Frederick’s gaze drifted to the crown prince, and he couldn’t help but notice the faintest hint of a smirk playing on the young royal’s pale lips. Is he really smiling? On a day like this?

Just as Frederick began to voice his disapproval inwardly, Kai rose from his seat. The crown prince moved with deliberate grace toward the open coffin, his pale green eyes fixed unwaveringly on the man lying inside.

As he stood before the crowd once more, the collective gaze of the nobles fastened onto him, scrutinizing his every move.

Amidst the sea of mourners dressed in black, Kai stood out in his regal splendor—a magnificent royal robe adorned with glittering gold embellishments, heavy jewelry, and a long crimson cape that trailed over the damp grass.

At first glance, Kai appeared as composed and resplendent as ever, though there was a faint shadow of exhaustion etched into his features, a subtle touch of grief that even he could not completely conceal. Yet, to Frederick’s discerning eye, something about the crown prince’s appearance felt undeniably... off.

His vibrant red hair... it looks duller, as if the color is slowly draining away. Even his eyes... they seem dimmer than before. And his skin...

The marquess squinted slightly, his unease growing. Indeed, the once-bright hues of the prince’s hair, eyes, and complexion appeared muted, as though the very vitality of his being was quietly slipping away.

Frederick glanced around at the other nobles, but none seemed to take note of this peculiar transformation. Only he, it seemed, had caught the change.

Perhaps I’m imagining things, he reasoned, shaking off the unsettling thoughts. Grief manifests differently in everyone.

Blinking, Frederick forced his focus back to the somber ceremony, though the gnawing sense of unease lingered in the recesses of his mind.

As Kai stood beside his father’s coffin, royal servants emerged seemingly out of nowhere, each carrying tall goblets of wine. They moved swiftly, handing the goblets to the nobles gathered around the burial plot.

The nobles accepted the wine, their expressions tinged with confusion. It was unusual to drink for the deceased’s safe passage to the afterlife before the body was interred. Still, they reasoned, perhaps there was some other news or purpose for this unexpected gesture.

And they were not wrong.

Kai cast a narrowed gaze over his father’s lifeless form. With a calm yet deliberate motion, he adjusted a few flowers on the coffin lid, seemingly displeased with their arrangement. Then, exhaling a long, audible sigh, he made a move that left everyone stunned.

He reached down, lifted the crown from the dead King’s head, and placed it firmly upon his own. Turning to face the crowd of nobles—now visibly frozen in shock—Kai straightened his posture, his amber eyes scanning their faces.

"Revered people of Erelith," he began, his voice loud but carrying a rough edge, as though worn from exhaustion or grief.

The tone of his words sent an involuntary shiver down Marquess Frederick’s spine. Kai’s piercing gaze swept across the assembly, ensuring every noble held a goblet of wine in hand before he continued.

"Today, we are burying a great man. King Yanis Erelith, my father. Though he had become less active in his final years, he was nonetheless a benevolent ruler. He taught Erelith to stand strong, to remain proud in the face of any adversity. And I would like to believe," Kai paused briefly, his voice unwavering, "that I have learned at least a few of those lessons myself."

"Now, as the horrible illness has finally caught up to him, prematurely sending him to the afterlife, it is time for a new ruler to ascend the throne. I, Crown Prince Kai Erelith, am honored to take this place. So... let us release the mourning of the past and embrace the glory of the present."

As Kai finished his proclamation, the Queen rose gracefully from her seat.

Accepting a golden goblet from the servant’s tray, she held it high above her head, her piercing brown eyes radiating authority so intense that few could meet her gaze for more than a fleeting moment.

"Raise your goblets to the glory of the new king!" she declared, her voice powerful and commanding. "Drink to celebrate the beginning of a new era. Kai Erelith, King of Erelith. Let his reign be one to remember!"

A chorus of cheers erupted from the nobles, their voices filled with forced enthusiasm.

All eyes shifted back to the Queen as a sudden gust of wind seemed to swirl around her. It tugged at her veil, lifting it to reveal her flushed face. Her expression was nothing short of euphoric, her thin lips curling into a twisted, unsettling smile as she watched the nobles obediently raise their goblets and drink in unison, as though hypnotized.

Ah, finally...

When the last noble lowered their goblet, the Queen’s laughter rang out—wild and unrestrained, echoing across the somber burial ground.

"Ugh!"

The sharp sound of a goblet clattering to the ground interrupted her manic laughter. Marquess Garlan’s goblet had slipped from his grasp, rolling beneath one of the chairs with a deafening metallic clank.

Something was terribly wrong.

A wave of unease swept over him as his body began to betray him. His limbs felt disconnected, sluggish, as if they no longer belonged to him. His mind, too, seemed to fragment, his awareness of himself and the world around him dissolving. It was as though an unseen force was reshaping his very essence, molding him into something unrecognizable.

He tried to look around, but even moving his head proved difficult. His vision blurred, and the once-familiar faces of the other nobles began to blend together, their features melting into an indistinguishable haze.

And then, it felt as if everything around him stopped.

Frederick’s face slackened, the chaotic blend of emotions that had gripped him moments ago vanishing in an instant. Like a puppet on strings, his body moved of its own accord, sinking to the ground.

Kneeling, he bowed low before the Crown Prince and the Queen, his movements devoid of will or resistance.

What... is happening...?

Struggling to hold on to the last fragments of his awareness, the marquess fought against the strange, overpowering sensation of submission. It was as though invisible hands gripped his mind, shaking it violently before cutting off his consciousness entirely.

Soon, there was only silence.

All around, the nobles had fallen to their knees, their heads bowed, their eyes vacant and unfocused. A chilling stillness hung over the burial grounds, broken only by the sound of Althea’s laughter.

The Queen’s shoulders shook uncontrollably as she laughed, her voice echoing with a menacing edge that sent shivers down the spines of any who still retained their sense of fear.

To her, this was victory—a moment of triumph she had long awaited. She had turned the nobles of Erelith into her puppets, bending them entirely to her will.

And soon, the entire kingdom would follow.

When her laughter finally subsided, Kai’s voice rang out, cold and unfeeling.

"It is done, Mother. Now, I trust you will keep your word."

Althea turned to her son, her broad smile radiating a twisted pride. She stepped toward him, the crown on his head glinting faintly in the dim light.

"I haven’t forgotten, my dear boy," she said sweetly, her tone dripping with false affection. Bending down, she pressed a kiss to his hand and whispered, her voice soft and reverent.

"My beloved King."