Chapter 295 - False Loves, True Power
Sebastian Blake:
I was in my office, drinking. The events that were about to happen had only been distant thoughts before. I could always mentally distance myself from what I saw and knew. But now, it was no longer just assumptions, plans, or ideas... now... it was real.
The door to my office opened, and my father walked in.
"Any problems, father?" I asked, as he made his way toward the desk.
He grabbed a bottle of liquor and drank straight from it, then looked at me as he sat down at the table.
"No problems, Sebastian," he said. "I feel sorry for the girl..."
I stayed silent.
"I know you had a thing for her. I was a young man once, too. Just one quick fuck, the kind no woman has ever given you, and love comes rushing in," he said, laughing. "But don't be like that. You're engaged to the daughter of the Grand Duke. That girl... she's something else. Even I'm jealous."
I nodded, agreeing with him.
"Our relationship isn't exactly great," I said. "It's a political engagement. I can barely touch her hand without her complaining. I just... wanted to have some fun with another woman before the day I finally consummate the marriage."
He looked at me, unblinking.
"Don't tell anyone, not even me, that your relationship with her is not going well," he said seriously.
"But everyone knows how she treats me..." I said, laughing nervously.
"These things are normal in arranged relationships, but don't risk saying that. Not even in this house... you know... they could always be watching us," he said, lowering his voice. "The Great Lord is magnificent and will elevate us with power, strength, and influence... but he does not tolerate mistakes."
I nodded at his words.
My father stood up and placed his hand on my shoulder.
"Son, when all this falls and becomes his domain, most people will be enslaved. Some will live on human farms, becoming food for those monstrosities. The new humanity will be their pets. But they'll need people to manage the slaves, to keep things running in their domain. We'll be part of the new nobility, remember that well. We will be free while everyone else is chained."
He leaned in closer to me.
"Long live the Darkness!"," he said.
"Long live the Darkness!"," I replied.
Agnes Asalon:
Charles stood in the room while Eleanor adjusted his clothes with precision. I watched the concubine, her red hair contrasting intriguingly against her pale skin. It was the same color hair that Elara had inherited, even the same shade.
"My daughter left for Apsalon a week ago... that girl never stops," she said while adjusting the cloak resting on Charles' shoulders.
"Elara is very dedicated," I commented. "That's something I admire about her."
Charles finished his preparations with a smile on his face.
"Only the crown is missing," he joked, walking over to a stand. Among several jewels, he picked up a golden crown studded with precious stones that glimmered in the light. With a natural gesture, he placed it on his head.
The other concubine, Gilly, observed from a distance. Despite being one of Charles' women, she maintained respectful silence, limited by her commoner background.
"What do you think, Gilly? Am I presentable?" Charles asked, always keeping a light tone.
"Of course, my king," Gilly replied.
I glanced at her, and Gilly subtly recoiled, avoiding my gaze as if acutely aware of her place. She was the youngest among the three of us, and her plebeian origins were always evident. When Charles first met her at a party at a count's castle, he tried to buy her, thinking she was a slave. Upon learning she was merely a servant, he offered her a "job" at the palace. I knew exactly what that "job" entailed.
It didn't take long before Gilly found herself in his bed. And, to my surprise, Charles announced that he wanted to make her an official concubine. Of course, I set my terms. She could become a concubine, but she would not bear a child. Not an heir, not Asalon's. Eleanor, at least, carried the weight and dignity of a wealthy, respectable family. She bore the name of her mining family and helped fill the crown's coffers. That marriage, though tolerable, at least had a purpose. Eleanor's blood was magical, something that was acceptable by our standards.
But Gilly? A commoner with filthy blood to bear an Asalon descendant? Never! She had no magical blood, she was an inferior human. The bloodline of the Founder Emperor could not be tainted by a filthy commoner without magic, and I made sure Charles fully understood what was at stake.
As I sat in the chair before the mirror, I began brushing my hair, feeling the softness of the strands sliding between my fingers. Gilly approached hesitantly and asked:
"Would you like me to help you, my queen?"
"At least, for that you're useful," I replied, handing her the brush. Gilly took the brush and positioned herself behind me, her movements delicate and careful, as always. She never dared look me in the eye, even after eight years of living under the same roof.
With one hand, she held a strand of hair, while with the other, she brushed slowly. "Your hair is very beautiful, my queen," she said in a near-whisper.
I remained silent for a moment.
"Yours also looks very beautiful... after all, you're using noble products. That ugly look of yours is gone; you don't even seem like the daughter of people who worked with pig dung," I said, glancing at her reflection in the mirror.
I saw her face slightly contort into a look of anger that quickly vanished. She resumed brushing as if nothing had happened. I let out a low laugh, barely noticeable. I knew she didn't like it when I insulted her family.
"They're farmers..." she said, continuing to brush my hair. "The work of a farmer is important. They feed everyone. From the commoner to the richest noble. Everyone needs to eat..."
I looked at her, incredulous. "Did you just try to respond to me?" I asked, my voice carrying a veiled threat.
She hesitated, shrinking. "No, my queen..." she responded carefully. "I just wanted... to explain a little," she added, choosing her words cautiously.
"I was raised with the best education in the kingdom. If I need a stupid commoner to teach me what a farmer does, I'd kill myself." I gestured for her to continue. "Go on, keep brushing my hair."
"Yes, my queen…" she murmured, resuming the task.
I took a hand mirror and held it close to my face, analyzing my features with meticulous attention.
"Farmers are good for putting their hands in animal shit," I said with disdain. "Write that down in your commoner brain."
She continues brushing, submissively. "Yes, my queen…"
But then, Gilly dares to ask another question, interrupting my moment of self-admiration. "Are you afraid of farmers?"
The question catches me off guard, and I lower the mirror, feeling my perplexity grow.
"What do you mean by that?" I retort, irritated.
"Well… you're afraid of me, a commoner, being with the king," she says, barely suppressing a smile. "And I come from a family of farmers… You also seemed quite unsettled when the king took an interest in that other commoner from the duchess Evenhart's farming family. The woman with long reddish-brown hair whom the palace women have dubbed 'the most beautiful in the kingdom'… You even made sure to send fewer invitations to the duchess for social events, fearing she might bring that Katherine along."
I let out a small laugh and signal for her to stop brushing my hair.
"Gilly… you're getting bold," I remark, standing up with a touch of cold satisfaction. "I think you're finally gaining some confidence."
I take a step forward, creating distance between us, but then I return, closing in on her again, observing the way her posture subtly crumbles.
"But you're far, far from having the confidence of a queen." I run my fingers through her hair, noting how she instinctively recoils at my touch. I lean closer to her ear, my voice low but firm, whispering words laced with contempt: "If that widow had come to the palace because Charles was interested in her, know this—those afternoons and nights he spends 'entertaining' himself with you wouldn't exist. He would have a new toy, one far more beautiful than you."
I see her shudder slightly as she shrinks in on herself, but I continue, making it clear where she belongs.
"You're only useful to him in bed, Gilly. Don't forget that. My 'concern' over that woman is no different from any wife's jealousy." My gaze trails over her features, observing the tension now gripping her face. "But you… you'd be easily replaced. Because aside from this body of yours, you have nothing else to offer."
She remains silent, her silence laden with resignation.
"Anything else to say?" I ask, a smile curling on my lips, though it never reaches my eyes, as I await the final embarrassment of her submission.
"No, my queen…" she murmurs, lowering her head in one last act of obedience.
Just as I was about to say something else, two soft knocks echoed against the door.
"Go see who it is," I order Gilly, who quickly walks to the door, assuming her usual posture of submission.
"Prince…" she says, bowing.
I glance toward the entrance and see Duncan stepping into the room.
"Oh, my boy! What do you think of your father? Do I look handsome?" Charles asks in a playful tone. "I have an important meeting—well, more like a little gathering," he adds with a carefree smile.
Gilly steps aside, giving Duncan space to enter.
"You do, father," Duncan replies, taking a seat in one of the chairs. "Even more dazzling with my crown," he adds, drawing a laugh from Charles.
Seizing the moment, I turn my gaze to my son. "I've already arranged for your escort," I say, studying him carefully. "Are you really leaving today?"
He gives a slight nod. "Yes, I want to stop by our mansion in Asalon first. I need to sort a few things out. Melina is coming with me."
I watch him closely as he settles into the chair.
"I want a moment alone with my son," I declare, casting a glance at the two concubines. They promptly bow and leave the room, closing the door behind them.
Charles continues to admire himself in the mirror, adjusting the jewelry around his neck. Taking advantage of the newfound privacy, I sit beside Duncan, leaning slightly toward him.
"Duncan," I begin, my tone more serious, "we need to talk."
"Is this about that matter?" he asks, his gaze sharp and attentive.
"Exactly," I respond, not breaking eye contact. "I want you to tell me how your current relationship with Syvis Rhiannon is going."