May Every Wound Be Fatal - Chapter 47.1
A heavy silence followed, and tension hung thick within the hall.
“…….”
Alberic Winble, the Duke of Darmor, stole a glance upward to observe the demeanor of the young King sitting upon the ornate throne of iron and rock atop the black stone dais.
The King’s complexion was worse now than it had been six years ago, when he had escaped the high citadel alone and arrived in Darmor while Leonard was away from Elmaril to settle the civil war in Kaldirac.
Alberic suddenly recalled the moment he first met the King.
“Give me your troops.”
Though the King’s body and mind had been intentionally addicted to drugs by Leonard, his blue eyes burned with a fierce rage and a thirst for revenge. Alberic found that look intriguing. It was also quite remarkable that he had traveled alone from Elmaril at the eastern edge all the way to the southwestern border.
“If you do, you will be able to enter Elmaril, Duke.”
And when the King saw right through his ambitions, Alberic had let out a dry, involuntary laugh.
The reason the Winble Ducal house remained powerful to this day was none other than Alberic Winble’s political cunning. Alberic had recognized Leonard’s cruelty and danger early on and hid his own ambitions from him. For decades, he had guarded the border while pretending to have no interest in central politics.
In Alberic’s view, the young King’s revenge looked as though it could succeed. Judging by those eyes that sought nothing but vengeance, it was certain. Sensing that his opportunity had arrived, Alberic took the young King’s side and willingly mobilized his army.
However, the fact that revenge was the only thing the King had left weighed on his mind until the very end.
Once the revenge was over, what would truly remain for the King?
He felt that perhaps nothing would hold meaning for him anymore, and he might meet a miserable end.
Yet, surprisingly, the King had something precious remaining.
The King did not die because he wished to protect what was left to him, and he was enduring as best as he could on the throne he loathed. The problem was that the remaining thing happened to be Leonard’s daughter.
The Queen’s existence was too great a flaw for a King who already had many weaknesses.
‘I do not know how much longer he can hold out…’
Whether it was a sense of camaraderie from having stood on the battlefield together, the old Duke found himself concerned for the young King, which was unlike him.
In the meantime, the nobles, who had hesitated briefly at the King’s silence, began to raise their voices again surreptitiously.
“Ominous rumors are rampant in Elmaril, Your Majesty.”
“Dethrone the Queen.”
“You must take a new Queen and secure a successor.”
“It would be better to announce Prince Lucian as the heir…”
It was only much later that the King finally spoke.
“Everyone, get out.”
The nobles were forced to withdraw amidst a chorus of rebellious murmurs.
Alberic, who remained until the very end, offered a quiet bow toward the King, who seemed half dazed in thought, before turning away.
A stillness settled in, as if time had stopped.
Elizer sat blankly on the throne for a long while.
He suddenly looked up and surveyed his surroundings.
The ceiling was distantly high, and the light pouring through the arched windows dyed the marble floor in silver. The walls were carved with reliefs depicting the battles and coronations of ancient kings, and faded banners hung long above them.
Originally, Elizer was not supposed to know this scenery.
“Elizer. You must live.”
Live, and…
Kassian’s voice, which sounded as if it might break at any moment, began to ring in his head.
Tirelessly.
Before he knew it, hair soaked in cold sweat clung to his face, obscuring his vision.
Elizer wiped his sweat drenched forehead with his sleeve and covered his mouth with his hand to suppress a surge of nausea. He forced himself to drag his trembling, buckling legs out of the hall. He fled as if escaping from the guilt of surviving alone, from the revenge and sense of duty, and from the towering throne.
After the revenge was over, he felt this sense of vast emptiness more frequently. He often fell into the thought that he simply wanted to end all of this, as if he had reached his limit.
However, Elizer soon came to a dead halt. He had suddenly remembered the fact that he must not run away yet.
‘…Reyna.’
He had Reyna. She was alive.
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