754: Alexandre the Apex

Alexandre the Apex

A silence fell over the courtroom. No one dared to breathe a word. Even Mikael, who should have been gloating, didn't dare to say a thing. In fact, he took a seat, regaining his silence as though nothing had happened.  2

Their King, Alexandre the Apex, was a man they all feared from the deepest recesses of their heart. When he spoke, the world listened. When he commanded, the world moved. However, sometimes, his inaction was the scariest of all. 

It had already been 12 years since Normand's fiancée was snatched from him. In these 12 years, Normand had probably only meant maybe a few weeks of them free, if that. 

In that time, he had never been allowed to die, forced to watch as the love of his life became a tool for another man, and a weapon for a King to exercise his authority. 

By now, every outburst Normand had was like a plea to have his head lopped off, a hope that one day he would stumble upon a word combination so foul and so pointed that Alexandre would finally have enough and put him to death. 

But, each and every time, The King would remain unmoved, passing down a sentence of time without so much as blinking. Then, he would continue about his duties as though absolutely nothing had happened, yet not a single person dared to say a word. 

It was as though all of them had been watching a session of torture for over a decade. The seed of fear planted within their hearts only seemed to grow with each passing day, a rational fear of their King being etched onto their souls. 

It took a special kind of sick and twisted person to so nonchalantly do what this King of theirs had done, and none of them dared to be the next. 

On a whim, their King had destroyed maybe the greatest talent their Kingdom had ever seen in Normand, just for the sake of proving a point and asserting his dominance. 

Then, still not satisfied, he continued to torture this young man who had done absolutely nothing wrong simply so that they would never forget just what he was capable of. 

This sort of man… You shouldn't ever get on his bad side. 

"Mikael."

"Y-Yes! Your Majesty!"

Mikael rocketed up to his feet, his belly seemingly made of steel as it didn't bounce even a single time. However, that didn't stop his attempt at keep his arms straight down his side from being laughable. 

"You will lead the expedition. I want this matter handled. Do not bother to come back unless it is."

"Yes!"

"You're all dismissed." Alexandre said emotionlessly. 

The King stood and left the court room, leaving Mikael sweating buckets. 

The truth was that Mikael didn't want this assignment. He had stood out for some brownie points, to get some nobles on his side. However, the rumors of the rebel army were too striking to ignore. 

Of course, it wasn't that he feared Leonel. This was far from the truth. He felt that he could even crush Leonel with ease if that was all there was to it. The issue, though, was that many believed that these things weren't so simple. 

Before this rebellion began, there were reports of the enemy Oryx Tribes making moves. Though they had only sent their human subordinates, it was definitely one of their stronger troops. 

Yet, somehow, this General and a ragtag group of commoners had defeated them? How could this not smell fishy?

The consensus was that the Oryx were using this rebel General to sow discord within their Kingdom. As such, this rebel army wasn't so simple. They not only had a charismatic leader, but they were receiving support form an enemy even Alexandre the Apex could only share land with. 

This sort of situation was something Mikael wanted to stay far out of. Or, at the very least, he wanted to share the burden with numerous nobles so that he didn't have to take the brunt of the blame. But, he just had to open his mouth and call Normand a cuckold. 

Why did you think Normand was laughing so uproariously? It was because he not only gained another chance to take a dig at the King he hated with all his being, but he knew that he was dragging Mikael down with him. 

The moment the words 'cuckold' left Mikael's lips, his fate was sealed. Now, he had no choice but to succeed. 

Mikael looked around, but not a single noble dared to look him in the eye. 

Quite 'noble' indeed. 

…

Alexandre walked through the castle with a dull expression. He wore fiery red robes and had a single silver shoulder guard over his left shoulder. It gave him the dignified air of a Warrior King although he hadn't been on a battlefield in decades. 

Alexandre pushed open a door. 

"Royal Father!"

A young man who seemed to be in his mid-twenties immediately stood. 

The location was a small garden that contained a concrete space for sword practice. Considering the drenched state of the young man and the numerous felled sparring partners nearby, filling the air with a bloody scent, it was clear that he had been taking advantage of this training area until his father arrived. 

In the distance, a young lady sat by a stone fountain. Her eyes quite dead, she stared off into space without a word and seemed to show no intention of greeting the King. 

"Come with me. Bring the girl." Alexandre said expressionlessly. 

"Yes!"

The Prince, Raoulin, didn't hesitate to follow his father's order. Alexandre's steps were already far away by the time the words drifted to his ears, but he didn't dally. 

Without much care or affection, Raoulin grabbed the girl's tender arm and pulled her up, dragging her along with him. Seeing that she didn't seem to want to move, he threw her over his shoulder, uncaring that the location he had grabbed her arm at had already begun to bruise. 

Not long later, Raoulin found his father's back waiting by a set of stairs that headed underground. 

Seeing Raoulin's arrival, Alexandre began to descend. 

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