Citadel of Hearts: The Emperor's Triumph | JC

Chapter 9: Clash of Thrones

"Your Majesty, what are your intentions regarding that prince?"

Seungcheol's idle tapping ceases as he gazes up from his throne at his courthouse, where Junhui and Wonwoo stand before him—one to discuss the welfare of the empire, the other the welfare of the emperor.

"What do you mean?" Seungcheol inquires, leaning back regally on his throne and fixing his gaze upon Junhui, who clicks his tongue in annoyance.

"I mean, precisely what are your plans for Prince Jeonghan? Will you subject him to torture and imprisonment in the dungeon? Or do you intend to employ him as a courtesan?" Junhui's inquiry deepens as he maintains his stare at the king. Seungcheol responds with a thoughtful hum before rising from his throne and descending to the floor.

A regal smirk graces Seungcheol's countenance as he firmly clasps Junhui's shoulder, the prince meeting the king's gaze with an equal measure of determination. "He holds an immense sense of self-worth, my dear Junhui. Bringing him to heel shall prove no simple task."

"I seek to shatter him, commencing with his pride and thereafter his dignity. Alas, he clings to the belief that his father will rescue him." Seungcheol's laughter reverberates through the chamber, silencing the others in his retinue.

"Yet, is it not unjust, Your Majesty? What transgression has Prince Jeonghan committed to warrant such treatment?" Wonwoo's inquiry hangs in the air as he fixes his gaze upon Seungcheol's retreating form.

"A ponderous question, indeed. I shall furnish an answer in due time," Seungcheol replies, his tone resonating with authority as he makes his exit from the courthouse.

"I shall adjourn to the training grounds," Seungcheol announces before vanishing beyond the threshold.

Wonwoo exhales wearily as he lowers himself onto the ornate throne, contemplating the weight of their sovereign's intentions.

"At times, I find myself confounded. Does His Majesty believe breaking Prince Jeonghan to be a facile endeavor? The endeavor may prove far more arduous than anticipated," Wonwoo muses, prompting Junhui to join him as they depart the august halls of the courthouse.

With each deliberate step, Seungcheol's gait weighs heavy as he approaches the threshold of the training combat chamber. The sentinel, a steadfast guardian of tradition, ceremoniously swings open the colossal metal gates, granting passage into the sanctum where warriors hone their skills.

As Seungcheol crosses the threshold, the midday sun bathes the field in a blinding brilliance, its unforgiving rays casting a radiant glow upon the expanse of the training grounds. Yet, beneath its scorching gaze, the air shimmers with an oppressive heat, making the prospect of practice seem an insurmountable challenge without the respite of shade.

Undeterred by the harshness of the elements, Seungcheol stands tall amidst the sun-drenched arena, a beacon of resolve and fortitude. For it is here, amidst the crucible of adversity, that true warriors are forged, their spirits tempered by the relentless trials of combat and the unyielding heat of the sun.

"Hail to the king!" The resounding chant erupted from the assembled throng of students, each one eager to prove their mettle and secure a coveted position within the illustrious ranks of the Sel Empire's soldiers.

With heads bowed in reverence, they paid homage to Seungcheol, the monarch whose very presence commanded respect and admiration. Pride swelled within him as he beheld the dedication and fervor with which they pursued their training, each movement a testament to their unwavering commitment.

"Very well," Seungcheol declared, his voice resonating with authority as he shed the confines of his regal attire, the flimsy robes falling away to be gathered by his attentive guard. With a deliberate gesture, he divested himself of each layer until he stood resplendent in nothing but his trousers and a waist belt, the weight of his sword secured at his side.