When the Mad Emperor Suddenly Becomes Sweet

37

With a sigh, Freya asked, “Do you really have to hear it right now?” Archer took a leg of chicken out of the basket and asked again,” What did His Majesty give you? And why are you being like this?”

It was obvious that Archer was in awe of His Majesty Lucius, and Freya knew that he respected him a lot. She had to carefully consider what to say, as she was worried that the truth about Lucius might shatter Archer’s illusion. She decided to start with some small talk, to gauge how well he would handle the reality of Lucius.

Freya asked Archer carefully, “Archer, what kind of man do you think His Majesty is?” She had no concerns about business pertaining to the empire and its inner workings. All she cared about was being comfortable and, most importantly, not hungry. She didn’t need to concern herself with anything else, although she was aware of the conflict that had occurred between His Majesty Lucius and a counterpart named Hart. Hart was known to have a large number of followers, and Freya had often wondered why Archer had allied himself with Lucius over Hart. Her train of thought continued; perhaps this might be the time to let Archer know all about Lucius. Archer was sometimes a little slow and lacking in perception, but deep down he was fundamentally a good person.

Archer now addressed Freya’s question. “Our Majesty…. Well, Our Majesty is a warrior among warriors. He leads us bravely from the front, unlike those other cowards who would order us to fight yet remain many miles behind us merely directing the battle. His Majesty Lucius leads us into battle, which is why I respect him and am honoured to serve him!”

Archer continued, “When I am behind His Majesty who is leading the charge into battle, I am filled with strength and courage to fight. His bravery would send fear into the heart of the God of Death himself.”

Freya was surprised that for a man who was usually rather quiet, Archer certainly had a lot of praise for Lucius. And yet Archer was not done. “Of course, we hear rumours,” said Archer. “Bad rumours from people who are ignorant about His Majesty. They don’t understand that he is trying to protect them and our lands day and night. Why, even when Prince Hart had invaded the ballroom, Our Majesty’s sword was covered in blood from his fight to defend the sacred room.”

After listening to Archer’s response, Freya began to wish that he hadn’t asked such a question. Archer seemed like he could go on all night if she asked anymore, which made her feel tired and weary. But she knew deep down that she had to tell him the truth. The fact was that Archer’s precious Lucius had sent her back with an empty hand after she had saved him. No sooner had she had built up the courage to finally tell him that he collapsed on the bed and the empty bottle of alcohol rolled away from him on the floor.

“Archer!” She called his name exasperatedly, but the only reply she received was the snoring sound from Archer’s mouth. He had fallen asleep already.

It was the middle of the night and Freya was curled up in the corner. She could feel the cold surrounding her, but she considered that this was better than sleeping outside, even though the cold from the floor seemed to be penetrating her skin and reaching her bones. A sense of unease lay heavy on her, which she couldn’t quite understand. A life of cold and hunger was probably her destiny now; after all, she was 16 and had officially entered adulthood. However, the sense of unease puzzled her and she continued to ponder as she lay on the cold floor.

If she had been born as the daughter of a noble, such as the one she had seen on the street earlier, she would no doubt have made her social debut wearing a fancy dress and catching many an eye. Instead, she had come of age clad in bloody clothes. Her mind naturally wandered to the face she had been confronted with, with those deep red lips sitting below dark and piercing blue eyes that a person could easily sink into. Lucius had seemed so intense when he put the cape on her, and she had been unable to refuse as she was transfixed by those long eyelashes. She couldn’t deny that she found them pretty; probably the prettiest eyelashes she had seen for a long time.

The reason that she was suddenly thinking about Lucius so much suddenly came to her. Archer! He had been talking about Lucius and his grand achievements all through their dinner together. Since Archer respects Lucius so much, Freya considered that it was probably a good thing that she had saved him. The uncomfortable situation and misunderstanding that had occurred was just something that she would have to live with. She had certainly had plenty of practice.

Lucius sat at the table and pored over a map. His face was stern and serious, as he knew that he would have to destroy the group that was advancing fast toward the suburb. Hart’s power would increase as long as Lucius remained, and in ordinary circumstances, the crown would have been his already. He scoffed and thought about his father; the man who essentially caused all of these problems. His father knew of the unreasonable things that had happened to the young Lucius, and what had he done about it? Precisely nothing, he had intentionally ignored those problems and thus allowed them to fester away and become life-threatening.

Just the thought of this situation caused Lucius’ blood to boil, and his body shook with a quiet rage. He breathed hard and gripped the edge of the table, in an attempt to steady himself and keep control. In his mind’s eye, he pictured a group of jackals circling him, patiently waiting for a weak point to show itself and then launch an attack.

Brushing his blonde hair back from his face, Lucius looked up and was surprised to see a familiar yet unwelcome face enter his room and enquire, “Your Majesty, are you okay?”

Lucius shot back, angrily, “Do I look as if I am okay to you?”

Herro bowed to Lucius and, ignoring the angry tone in his voice, asked, “Why are you alone Your Majesty? Is your lifesaver no longer here?”

With more than a hint of irritation, Lucius snapped back, “Herro, I am not in the mood for jokes.”

Lucius sat at the table and pored over a map. His face was stern and serious, as he knew that he would have to destroy the group that was advancing fast toward the suburb. Hart’s power would increase as long as Lucius remained, and in ordinary circumstances, the crown would have been his already. He scoffed and thought about his father; the man who essentially caused all of these problems. His father knew of the unreasonable things that had happened to the young Lucius, and what had he done about it? Precisely nothing, he had intentionally ignored those problems and thus allowed them to fester away and become life-threatening.