CHAPTER 359: THE INVITATION LETTER FOR THE KING

The hunt was set to take place four months from now.

Invitations were already being sent to every corner of Eldoria, each one gilded and sealed with the Archduke’s sigil. It was a grand announcement of his intent to celebrate his union with his lover and newlywed husband.

It was already the talk of every household, from the humblest peasant hovel to the grandest ducal estate.

The northern devil, Darkhelm, had married a divine healer, and on the very day His Majesty died.

Xion’s reputation, once nothing more than the little bastard, had transformed into that of a divine healer. That had only poured the fuel into the fire of excitement for the ones who received the letters.

After all, who wouldn’t want ties to someone rumored to bring even the dying back from death’s door?

That was one reason for all this eagerness, of course, but not the only reason.

The other was His Grace, Darius Rael Darkhelm himself.

As soon as the invitations arrived, Georgie Maximus watched the court scramble like hounds.

The nobles and knights rushed to commission new finery, sharpen their blades, polish their boots.

The hunt was to last four days, culminating in the Winter Ball

of such lavishness that even the late king would have raised an eyebrow.

The hunts were famous, but it was a pity that, unlike a royal banquet that was held every year, it was only held at the whim of the northern lord.

Georgie paused briefly, then a smile appeared on his haggard face. Rather than a lord, it was more fitting to call Darius the monarch of the north.

Lord still had to answer to someone, but after the war Darius had waged on the border, he had gathered enough strength to ignore the ruler altogether.

The only thing left was to crown himself. That was exactly what Georgie couldn’t understand.

Why was he still not taking action? Darius had somehow managed to find the blessed human and seduce him.

As for how the archduke had discovered Xion before even the church could, it was without a doubt those venomous eyes.

The eyes that could see all. For a long time, Georgie had believed it to be a tactic to scare the enemies on the battlefield, but now he doubted the authenticity of that assumption.

Darius and his entire cursed bloodline were unpredictable. That was one of the reasons why he despised them so much.

The other reason was simpler.

He just didn’t like those savages flaunting themselves. They only belonged where the ruler wanted them to be. Kneeling at their feet.

It was this similar hatred they shared that Georgie was willing to support Silas when the young royal was nothing but a stupid brat.

Now that brat had grown up and taken the throne he had so painstakingly worked to secure.

However, before he could enjoy it, this letter had disrupted his carefully planned strategy.

If this hunt weren’t doing such a fine job of distracting everyone from His Majesty’s foolish mistake of letting Lady Rubina go, he, as the royal minister, might have stepped in to stop it himself.

But there was something worse than Darius’ improved reputation.

The whispers were growing louder by the day that the winner of the hunt would claim some precious relic, one said to have been left by the angel herself.

Zen.

What exactly this relic was, no one seemed to know. But Georgie suspected something was wrong.

So did Silas.

The minister stood silently in the chamber as the king sat brooding over the invitation. The golden seal glinted faintly in dim candlelight.

He could almost see the thoughts grinding in Silas’s head. It was a rare sight, indeed.

The young king’s voice finally broke the silence.

"That damned Darkhelm... what is he thinking? To simply give something like that away?"

Silas shook his head, as if trying to dislodge the thought, and reached for the quill to sign his acceptance of the invitation.

Standing behind him with hands clasped neatly, Georgie ventured to speak.

"Your Majesty. Perhaps it would be wiser to let others dirty their hands over this trivial game. You needn’t sully your name by attending personally. "

It was far too dangerous to send this hot-headed young man into the hunting grounds.

"To appear so eager over a hunt could be... misconstrued."

A misunderstanding that you are going there for Lady Rubina Claude.

Georgie didn’t voice his thoughts aloud.

The look on Silas’s tense face confirmed that his conjecture was no mere misunderstanding anymore.

Silas halted halfway through his signature and slowly turned his head toward him.

That glare. So very like his father’s... and yet so much emptier. What a useless thing.

"Do you want others to call me a coward?"

The disdain in his tone was blatant enough.

Georgie merely smiled. The same polite and hollow curl of his lips.

"Of course not, Your Majesty. I merely serve."

Because that was the truth of it.

He did not care who warmed the throne, so long as they knew how to wield it properly.

That was what mattered to him the most. Not who wore the crown, nor how much of a fool they made of themselves.

And Silas... ah, Silas.

The boy-king was far too stupid to see it.

He allowed himself the faintest sigh as Silas returned to scrawling his name on the parchment, fingers tight around the quill like a petulant child.

He wondered, not for the first time, how long this one would last.

After all his efforts to elevate Silas, his ascent had been far too smooth. The young man needed to taste what real defeat felt like.

Perhaps then, he would act more like a royal than a manwhore like his father.

His gaze fell on the invitation letter.

The hunt, though dangerous, seemed the perfect opportunity to teach some basic lessons to the half-grown king.

After all, the battlefield didn’t care if your blood was blue or white. The swords would pierce the flesh with equal fervor.

In the end, Georgie Maximus simply let the king do as he pleased.