Tyrant of the Ruined Sun-Chapter 191: A Flower Vase’s Unnoticed Wisdom, and the Epilogue of the Banquet’s First Event

Chapter 191: A Flower Vase’s Unnoticed Wisdom, and the Epilogue of the Banquet’s First Event

Nicholas remained quiet for a moment, as though carefully weighing his words, before finally saying "What do you think of lord Alexander?"

"The Ruinous Dragon?" His mother asked in return, her eyebrow cocked slightly at the unexpectedness of her son’s query.

"Yes." He nodded in confirmation, stealing a glance at her for a moment, silently gaging her reaction; for unlike most, Nicholas never wrote off his gentle mother’s counsel, as he believed her even wiser than his father in certain situations, and all because of one simple trait she had, a characteristic that such a precious few truly possessed.

The forgotten and abandoned virtue of humanity, the ability to simply listen.

A skill so under appreciated, that every time the topic of the empresses of the world is brought up, his mother’s more demure and less self evident strengths fade from memory when placed next to the more widely known acclaim of the other, more universally praised empresses, such as Esmerelda and Roxanna, who are hailed world wide for their many prominent talents, especially their competency in the arts of statecraft.

Naturally due to this, nearly everyone he knew dismissed his mother as little more than a pretty flower vase by his father’s side, that just so happened to be the lucky one to give birth to his long awaited heir, thus effortlessly awarding her the long coveted position of empress, conveniently forgetting the fact that she survived decades before he was born in the infamously ruthless harem of his father; again all due to her unique capacity to simply satisfy herself in the side lines, and rather than focusing on having her own voice heard, as everyone else was obsessed with, she instead was able to funnel her full concentration onto simply paying attention.

A resource she never denied him, and he never shied from utilizing.

"A difficult man to get an accurate read of. I would even dare to describe him as an anomaly." Nadia began. "At the tender age of fourteen he was thrust with the responsibility of a failing empire, and the prospects of a losing war that even claimed the life of his father. And yet he did not falter, but if anything he thrived. So much so that he earned the eternal loyalties of his nation’s weary and displeased legions, while simultaneously impressing living legends such as Darius Khan, Hamilcar Seth, Sodarus Indra and Abraham Durga to such an extent that they now serve him with the utmost devotion."

Nicholas frowned at this retelling of information he already knew, for they seemed to carry an even more unpleasant edge to them this time, but for reasons he didn’t fully understand.

Yet his mother did not pause her words due to his slight change of expression, and continued "His family members, the two I’ve personally seen at least, are very attached to him, and treat him more akin to a true brother than merely their monarch; similarly he is always surrounded by numerous subordinates, yet they all, regardless of status, age or even familiarity and experience, seem to hold great respect, even love for him. This speaks greatly about a man."

Nicholas’ frown deepened even more, before he then nodded, asking her to continue.

"He is an existence that no one would appreciate making an enemy out of. And I do not say this simply due to his immense influence or the shocking magnitudes of his own power that he achieved at such a young age, but because of the person that he is." She solemnly said. "If we look upon the history of his many blinding achievements, then we would be witnesses to a monument of gore and violence that few could ever replicate, or indeed even stomach; for it’s path was ploughed and paved under the unrelenting deluge of fallen foes, and built upon the foundations of many great conquered names, such as those of Georgios, the Iron Wall of the Luminous Empire; Marcus, Archduke of the western empire, brother to Octavian, and one of the greatest aerial generals alive; and of course, Maximillian, the famed Mercenary King and the dreadful Three Winged War Dragon."

The northern empress eventually ended her lengthy list of observations she had made note of, that sounded like nothing more than a long winded encomium to her son’s ears, just as his deepening frown finally completed it’s metamorphosis into a full blown, muscle stretching scowl, causing his concerned mother to mutter out "What’s wrong dear? What troubles you so?"

"N-Nothing mother, I was just caught up in my own thoughts." Nicholas quickly caught on to his slip up, and the face he was currently wearing, prompting him to rush to repair it with a half-hearted assurance, that none on the planet would be daft enough to believe.

Which contrary to his intention, only served to further aggravate his mother’s unease, leading her to swiftly mull over the issue in her mind, leading her to a rapid, if not entirely accurate, conclusion.

And so thinking she had uncovered the reason behind her darling son’s sudden question, and the oddly discomforted expressions he’d been displaying since she began talking, she reassuringly encouraged, with the company of her slender fingers lovingly gliding through his hair, in a calming combing motion "You need not worry about the weight of expectations that title your father and his ministers arbitrarily thrust upon you; and neither do you need to see the Ruinous Dragon as your rival that you must surpass; for you are already everything you need to be."

Though she spoke those words from a place of unblemished love, a fact Nicholas also knew and acknowledged, she had not realized that they could be interpreted as a proclamation of his inadequacy and inability to ever measure up to those expectations his people, not only anticipated, but restlessly awaited from him.

Thus forever more planting the poisoned seed of doubt within his mind, without anyone’s notice or desire to do so.

Meanwhile, Elisabetta and I had just returned back from our clandestine meeting on the terrace, retiring to the side of our respective companies once more, and not a moment too soon, as Eve’s expert distracting scheme had all but run it’s short lived course under the calm and efficient guiding hand of the King and Queen of the Astrapi Kingdom, who all but resolved the issue with minimal fallout from the offended parties.

"Sister, where did you go?" Alina, her youngest sister, knowingly questioned as soon as Elisabetta was within earshot of them.

"I had business to conclude with him." Elisabetta calmly admitted, without specifically mentioning my name, for she knew they had been witness to her every action, going totally against her sisters’ prior predictions, thinking that she would try to vehemently deny associating with me in such a private setting.

"And what sort of business do you have with the Ruinous Dragon?" Marika then quickly recovered and pressed on the attack, refusing to allow such a rare opportunity to simply pass with a single failed assault.

Yet Elisabetta did not rush to answer her sister, and instead turned to her father, whose piercing, frigid eyes, she knew, were already trained at her the entire time, before she then confidently held his haunting stare, and answered "I was enlisting the southern emperor’s help in combating my brother’s current crisis."

None followed her words with their own, as they all remained frozen, trapped within disbelieving, static shells, as they momentarily even contemplated the ordinarily inconceivable possibility of their eternally stoic sister suddenly having sprouted a vapid sense of humour at this awkward hour.

"Why would you do such a thing?" Mikhail was the first to finally break the taught silence, as he asked in a tone that rolled off his tongue in unfamiliar surprise wrapped protectively within the embrace of an arctic tempest.

"Because it is the only way to allow my brother quick and safe passage back into the Banquet with the bare minimum amount of further face loss." Elisabetta replied.

"What?! Of course not! We..." The panicked, restrained shrieking of Marika were instantly cut short by her father’s reprimanding glare, before he returned his attention to his rogue eldest daughter, who went against his orders by intervening in a matter he specifically excluded her from participating in, as punishment for her earlier failings.

"And what price did the Ruinous Dragon demand in exchange for his said aid?" Mikhail then solemnly asked, his voice buried beneath an ever expanding mass of glacial weight.

Hearing her father’s inevitable question, Elisabetta still couldn’t combat the pulse of hesitation she felt ripple through her at those words, despite her prior expectation and preparation for them.

Yet before she could answer, the hall suddenly grew quiet, as the hosts of the two hundredth and nineteenth Banquet of Concordia rose to an elevated stage, ready to proclaim the much anticipated second event.

Alleviating Elisabetta of her troublesome duty of answering her father’s question, at least for the time being, as he sternly decreed after noticing the suddenly ill-suited surroundings to further pursue this surreptitious topic "We will continue this later."

Meanwhile, back in our corner of the hall, I had just conveyed a series of commands for Isaac to swiftly complete, after I had returned with Eve by my side once more, with the only difference being the absence of the two eastern royal members, who had also gone back to their father’s side shortly after my departure with the northern princess.

"Look! It’s finally starting!" Cyrus then excitedly exclaimed, just as I had finished intrusting Isaac with his Corps’ next set of orders.

"Finally." Nizam sighingly celebrated as well with a lightly muttered cheer.

"You seem so ameliorated little brother." I smilingly pointed out then. "Were you truly so relieved at having this event done with already?"

Nizam seemed surprised at having been so abruptly uncovered, before he then sheepishly admitted, with an awkward scratch of the back of his head "Wearing a mask every night grows suffocating very quick."

I chuckled at his answer, just as Cyrus’ enthusiastic voice cut in once again, asking "They called it the Joust of Jewels on the first day, right? What do you think it will be?!"

His emerald eyes were twinkling with the drunken light of bellicose expectation, the name of the event luring him into blood pumping fantasies of neighing horses and glinting armour, competing with jewel tipped lances beneath the golden canopy of the crowning sun.

Yet sadly, all dreams must eventually come to an end, and so did this one, by the hands of Darius, who calmly explained "A joust would indeed imply a martial tournament, my young prince, but the word jewel seems to insinuate a odd twist on the traditional sport."

Cyrus looked visibly deflated by the Grand Vizier’s words, as he worriedly asked "What sort of twist?"

"We’re about to see." It was I who answered then, just as king Aegaeon was about to begin his speech.