Chapter 97: Conversation
The king’s request for my presence felt more like a command, as most things do in his court. I would have much preferred spending my time with Noelle, who fills my days with warmth, but the duty of playing the royal game beckons. As the carriage rolls to a stop in front of the royal palace, I step out, adjusting the stiff collar of my coat, already anticipating the tedium that awaits me.
I enter the grand hall, all marble and opulence, servants bowing in succession as I make my way towards the balcony where the king awaits. The soft murmur of the palace staff fades into the background as I climb the final set of stairs, a servant opening the doors to the sunlit balcony. There, the king sits with his tea, his hands clasped delicately around the cup, already watching me with that familiar smile – the one that barely hides the calculating glint in his eyes.
"Ah, General Thorne, my crimson warrior," he says, his voice all joviality. "Come, join me. It has been far too long since we last spoke."
"Your Majesty," I respond with a short bow, keeping my posture straight but relaxed, the way he expects a man of my rank to be. I take a seat across from him, silently accepting the tea a servant places before me. I raise the delicate cup to my lips, though I barely register the taste.
The king leans forward, his smile widening, and here it begins—the dance of conversation.
"How I miss the old days, the glory of your battlefield victories. What a sight you were, leading my armies to triumph. They still speak of the way you cut down enemy ranks like wheat before a scythe." His words are heavy with false nostalgia, the kind meant to flatter.
I suppress a sigh, focusing on the thin rim of the cup as I set it down gently. "Yes, Your Majesty," I say, knowing better than to contradict him. To him, the battlefield was a distant tale of glory. To me, it was murder and blood, death choking the air, and the weight of too many lives lost. But it’s not worth the effort to explain. He wouldn’t understand, nor would he care.
"I imagine you miss the thrill of it," he continues, his eyes sharp, watching for a reaction. "Such days of valor are behind us, it seems."
"I find little to miss in violence, Your Majesty," I reply, my tone even, devoid of emotion. "Though I serve the kingdom as I always have."
A slight silence falls between us, just long enough to border on uncomfortable. The king shifts, picking up his cup again, swirling the tea before sipping.
"Of course, of course," he murmurs. "We are at peace now, thanks in part to your efforts."