Carlyle's voice still possessed a hint of disinterest.
Villiem kept his gaze low as he said, "Your Majesty, pardon me, but I won't be able to share breakfast with you."
His tone was solemn, respectful, without a hint of defiance. Yet, Carlyle flared up like he was insulted viciously.
"Why? Am I not worthy of having you eat in my company? Is my food not up to your standard? Is this all beneath you?"
"No, Your Majesty. It's not–"
"I've been told that you've refused to eat a morsel of food since you arrived at the Stone Palace. You didn't even have tea with your fellow concubines. You dare refuse the food I give you. You want to starve to death in my Palace??"
"Your Majesty, that's not–"
"You will finish every single dish laid on this table." Carlyle concluded with finality.
Villiem looked at food splayed the table. Dozens of varieties of food, drinks, fruits. More than what fifty people could eat at a go.
"Your Majesty, I can't…"
Villiem's voice was low. His hands were shaking too noticeably.
"You did not just refute my order, did you?" Carlyle said.
Villiem dared to look at the man.
It was a mistake.
Carlyle's black eyes were narrowed to thin slits. No single hint of concern in them. Nothingness. Endless whirls of nothingness.
Words couldn't come out from Villiem's mouth. He should say something. He should insist on not being able to eat it all. Or eat at all here.
But he didn't.
He couldn't.
"... Yes, Your Majesty." Villiem looked away from him.
"You may do whatever you like in the Stone Palace, but in my presence, you do as I like. No daring to refuse anything I request, understand?"
"Yes, Your Majesty." Villiem repeated.
Then he steeled his nerves and grabbed onto the fork. With proper table etiquette, he sliced off a piece of pancake. He looked as though he had come to terms with his fate. But his other hand which rested on his thigh, below the table where no one could see, was trembling.
The nails quivering against the material of his trousers.
He stuck the piece of food into his mouth. It was hot. The taste was incredible.
Villiem wanted to throw up.
"Your Highness!" A cautious voice sounded behind Villiem.
"Be quiet." Villiem ordered Felix who stepped forward.
Felix's hand was tight on the handle of his sword. It wasn't clear what he wanted to do. Who he wanted to attack. But Villiem's sharp order made him retreat in an instant.
His brown eyes, which were never concerned with whatever they were viewing, shone with worry. His throat rolled as he swallowed his words.
He looked like he had more to say. A whole lot more. But he didn't say anything. Felix's hand still remained on the sword but he stepped back and maintained the distance he broke earlier.
Carlyle watched all of this with a bored expression on his face. He couldn't care less about a rabid guard being concerned for his master. But he cared about his entertainment being interrupted shortly.
"'Your Highness', is it?"
The mock in Carlyle's voice could be detected from miles away. Villiem's lashes fluttered.
"A mistake." He excused for Felix.
"That shouldn't repeat itself."
Villiem nodded his head.
"Once you finish eating, you'll receive five lashes for recklessly throwing words at me and irritating me. Then a deduction of 10 points for not looking pretty enough."
Carlyle pushed his chair back after saying those words with a leisurely tone.
Villiem's head jerked up, showing his hazel eyes widened with surprise.
"Your Majesty…?"
"Don't speak. It's annoying."
He stood up in all his glory and might. What Villiem couldn't see before, he could see now.
Carlyle's toned stomach muscles that were divided into six, no, eight compartments. The man was almost 2 meters tall with broad shoulders and a perfectly toned body, yet he carried himself like he weighed nothing.
His steps light and fleeting.
Villiem said nothing as he watched Carlyle walk out of the dining room with a line of maids tailing after him. In his absence, Villiem only had one thought in his mind.
He's still the same.
Still the same selfish, unnecessarily cruel, and evil man. No, evil creature.
Carlyle Azazel was far from being a human being.
Villiem didn't like to think bad about others, but Carlyle was an exception. The exception. Carlyle's being was worth a thousand hateful thoughts from him.
Villiem's heart coiled with irritation at himself for being unable to do a thing to Carlyle to change his ways. His stomach was the next to roll with discomfort as his brain reminded him of the words Carlyle just said to him.
He had to eat everything on this table. Then receive whippings. Because he was irritating and not… pretty enough.
Villiem would have never thought he'd have to face such an experience in his life. And in all that happened in the span of a few moments, he didn't actually get to talk to Carlyle.
The one reason he even prepared himself to show himself here, to talk about the empire, he didn't get to do it. He wasn't even given a chance.
Everything about this situation was just so… annoying.