The throne room wasn't like most people would have imagined. While it was grand, there were no golden or silver decorations placed around to make the place look impressive.
What would have captured anyone's attention, however, were the tree roots growing all around the room—the ceiling, the walls, the floor. Wherever one looked, they would see dozens of tree roots, black in color, pulsing with strange energy.
Sadly, Rynor didn't have ti to appreciate the eerie beauty of the tree and its roots as his eyesight naturally shifted to his father.
Unlike the rumours, he wasn't a man with a giant build—a person capable of feeding off armies alone—nor was he secretly a demon like so many speculated.
He looked like just any old frail man. His face and body were pale, similar to a ghost, with a lot of wrinkles all around it. He wore simple, tainted black robes that he refused to let go of.
Because of them—or so Rynor suspected—the emperor constantly gave off a foul stench, unpleasant to the nose.
But he knew better than to underestimate his father just because of his appearance. He was the one managing to control so many undead creatures. If he wished, he could wage a war against the whole continent and he was going to win—no doubt about that.
With so many undead creatures on their side, the Graveborn Empire was going to co out on top for certain. Their troops didn't need to eat, sleep, or stop for rest—an army with unlimited stamina marching forward, slowly increasing their troops while also conquering land.
"I greet the emperor!" Managing to calm down his raging emotions sohow, Rynor took a few steps closer and dropped to one knee.
Acknowledging his son, the man shifted his head slightly and gazed at him.
A few seconds of silence passed. The emperor continued to look at his son with his tired eyes. Eventually, he parted his lips.
"Can't you address by my na?" were the first words that the emperor had spoken to his son for a long ti.
With a silent nod, Rynor continued, "Lucien… Father, I have a report to give."
Rynor was visibly startled for a mont as Lucien's lips curled into a nacing smile.
"Speak, child. If you have co here to see personally, then it must be important."
Taking a deep breath, he began to recall the events to his father, not missing any information.
By the end of his report, he witnessed sothing rare—his father moved. Just a small gesture: a hand over his chin, deep in thought. But even that was a rare sight.
"So there really are beings living in the Abyss. Does that an it has returned?... But if that's true, why haven't we seen more Fated Ones? At least, to my knowledge..."
While the emperor was muttering to himself, Rynor shifted his gaze ever so slowly to observe his brother.
Like always, he was clad in full-body armor. It was black in color. After his loss against the Dullahan, he had been trying to mimic its fighting style and attire, though his armor was much inferior to the Dullahan's.
'How long has it been since I last saw his face?' Rynor wondered. Due to the demonic helt his brother was wearing, it was impossible to perceive his emotions.
Did he manage to find a way to heal his face after the fight with the Dullahan? Or is he still scarred? Could it be that he is wearing the helt in order to hide his sha? These were a few of the questions Rynor had when he gazed at his brother, but sadly, this wasn't the ti for a chat.
Eventually, Lucien ca to a conclusion. "Thank you, Rynor, for reporting this. I will take it into account."
The prince silently nodded and was about to head out, but his father's words stopped him.
"Now, now… barging in and interrupting your brother—it would be rude to leave without hearing him out, wouldn't you agree?"
Rynor's expression darkened for a mont. Even if these two were his only family, he felt uncomfortable being next to them. Alas, his father was right, so he had to listen to the report of his brother.
Lucien turned back to the man who had been kneeling all this ti and offered a thin smile.
"Forgive the interruption. Please continue, Ragnar."
With a silent nod, Ragnar began, "According to reports, the Draconian Empire has made a deal with a dragon, and as such, the beast is protecting their lands. Apparently, the man that is able to control the creature goes by the na Ghost."
His voice was cold and emotionless, making one wonder if what was behind the demonic helt was a living person or just a reanimated corpse.
"So the rumors were true," Lucien murmured, seemingly unsurprised.
"However, for you to co personally, it ans that there is sothing else, correct?" Lucien guessed.
"Yes," Ragnar replied. "According to the reports, the dragon wasn't alive… it was undead."
For the first ti, concern flickered across Lucien's face. His pupils shrank. His already pale skin seed to grow even paler.
"Are you sure that the beast was undead? Maybe it was just so kind of disguise?"
Ragnar shook his head. "The dragon is made entirely of bone and is able to spew green flas. There is no doubt about it—the creature is undead," he reassured.
A few seconds passed in tense silence.
"I see. Now leave alone—I need to think," the emperor ordered.
The two princes nodded and left without a word, leaving the emperor alone with his thoughts.
"Soone is able to control undead creatures other than ?... But that is impossible. I am the last one of its subjects. Unless… it has found another one?"
Outside the throne room, Rynor was about to head out until Ragnar's voice stopped him.
"Brother."
Rynor's body shivered instinctively. Turning around, he saw his brother staring at him.
"Yes, brother?" he asked with hesitation in his voice.
"It's been a long ti since we last saw each other. Why wouldn't you even greet ?" Ragnar questioned.
Rynor tried to suppress the urge to scoff. If one didn't know about their relationship, it would seem that Rynor was the one that didn't like Ragnar, but the truth was vastly different.
With a slight bow, Rynor addressed his brother, "It is nice to see you, brother."
Ragnar didn't return the gesture, just as Rynor had expected.
"If my suspicions are correct, we'll be launching a full-scale attack not only on the Draconian Empire, but on the Crimson Sun Empire as well. We need to be ready for that mont." Ragnar began to walk, motioning for his brother to follow.
"As such, why don't we have a spar, like the good old tis?" he suggested.
Rynor gritted his teeth. "Is it a wise idea, brother? What will happen if the battle gets out of control? Who will stop us then?"
Realizing that his brother's words had so rit, Ragnar stopped and gazed at the Dullahan silently.
It seed that the Dullahan got the ssage, as it moved its body and began to follow them.
"Father won't notice his guard missing for a while—so if things get out of hand, we now have sothing that can stop us."
Rynor wanted to protest more, but saw that it was futile.
He was going to have to fight his brother once again.
Reviews
All reviews (0)