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The Cup Before the King

The night of the banquet was meant to celebrate peace.

After years of tension along the borders, the kingdom had finally secured an alliance strong enough to silence even the most restless enemies. The palace glowed brighter than it had in months. Torches burned high along the stone walls, chandeliers shimmered above long wooden tables, and the hall echoed with the quiet rhythm of voices, goblets, and restrained laughter.

At the center of it all sat the king.

Calm. Composed. Untouchable.

To his right and left—his most trusted nobles. Men who had stood beside him through war, betrayal, and triumph. Men he had chosen not only for their loyalty… but for their silence when needed.

Servants moved quietly between the tables, refilling goblets, replacing dishes, keeping everything in perfect balance.

Everything felt… controlled.

Until the moment it didn’t.

The king lifted his goblet.

The golden cup caught the firelight, reflecting a warm glow across his face. The wine inside shifted slightly as he tilted it.

He was about to drink.

And then—

The doors slammed open.

The sound cut through the hall like a blade.

Every head turned.

A servant stumbled inside, breathless, pale, barely able to stand.

“Do not drink, Your Majesty!” he shouted.
“The wine is poisoned!”