It wasn’t yet time to spill blood. That time would come, but later. Hadjar had developed a very detailed plan and didn’t want to ruin it on the very first night.
However, this didn’t mean Hadjar would conceal his power. He let the energy circulate around him. To the onlookers, it felt as if a wild beast was climbing the stairs, ready to tear them apart at any moment. The guards simultaneously put their halberds forward and unsheathed their blades. Hadjar didn’t slow down, and not a single muscle twitched on his face. He calmly kept going until he reached the central Palace gates. They looked the same as ever — tall and covered with golden bas-reliefs depicting the great Kings of the past.
Hadjar looked at the lower right corner and barely restrained himself from letting out an angry roar: the face of his father, King Haver, had been broken and removed from the artwork. Instead of him, Primus, holding his huge broadsword, had been depicted there.
“Impressive.” Nero said, also looking at the bas-reliefs.
Hadjar was about to take a step forward when a pair of crossed halberds blocked his path. He heard the stomping of heavy boots and the imperial guards, ready for battle, surrounded Hadjar.
“What’s going on here?” Nero snapped, clutching the handle of his blade. He’d almost drawn his sword, but had been stopped by his friend’s calm gaze.
“Milady Rowena?” Hadjar turned to the official.
“It seems that you weren’t listening to me very well, honorable Hadjar Traves. I told you that entering the Palace with a weapon is prohibited.”
Hadjar looked at the nearby stained glass window. There, in the main throne room, the nobles were dancing. Women were wearing beautiful and rich dresses and the men — traditional clothes or tunics. However, one feature united all of them: they were carrying weapons. The scabbards and handles looked more like decorations, but they were still weapons.
“Don’t look over there, Hadjar,” Rowena shook her head. Surrounded by the Imperial soldiers, she felt quite comfortable. “These rules apply to...” she smiled arrogantly, “the commoners. Nobles and aristocrats are allowed to carry weapons.”
“But you yourself said that Hadjar is going to be granted the title of Baron!” Serra exclaimed. “Besides, the rank of General is considered equal to being a nobleman!”
“Alas,” Rowena shrugged. “Hadjar Traves, while still a citizen of Lidus, is no longer the General of the Moon Army. Moreover, the title hasn’t been granted to him yet. So, with all due respect, you are just a simple commoner.”
Moon Leen, for example, would’ve been infuriated by such words. Not because of the fact she didn’t have a high rank, but simply because of the arrogance and humiliation inflicted by the officials, accustomed to risking other people’s lives without ever endangering their own.
Nero stood with his friend. Thanks to the songs of the bards, this made the imperial guards wary and they finally unsheathed their blades and released their energy. They were ready for a fight.
They were fearless and very stupid. Here, in Lidus, they’d gotten accustomed to thinking of themselves as gods, despite being the weakest in their homeland. Only the most pathetic cultivators were ever sent to the Kingdom.
“I’ve always thought about what it would be like to conquer the royal Palace,” Nero said with a cheeky smile.
Without showing any emotion, Hadjar turned his back on the gate and took a step toward the stairs. At that moment, one of the Imperials, the youngest and least experienced among them, lost his temper and swung his sword.
Their eyes met and the young man’s sword froze in the air. The guard’s whole body shook and he almost fell to his knees. It seemed to him like it wasn’t a man looking at him, but a furious and hungry dragon. His blue eyes pierced the man’s soul, gripping his heart in icy claws of fear.
“I’ll enter the palace with my sword, or-” Hadjar began quietly.
He didn’t finish his threat. Maybe it was fate, maybe a fluke, or maybe part of someone’s grand plan, but a moment later, the gates opened and a man with a valet’s medallion ran out.
“Milady Rowena, there’s no need for any more formalities. All of us are waiting for our honored guest,” the valet’s voice was soft. “Please, General Hadjar. Come in, please. You can keep your sword with you. The King and the Governor are strong enough not to feel threatened by our guests.”
Hadjar turned around and climbed back toward the gates.
Long ago, back at the village, he had agreed to the request of the villagers because he had entered a house where the laws of hospitality had been respected. Only an animal wouldn’t comply with those laws.
But right now... Hadjar knew that no one in the Palace remembered these laws. They were violated every single day. From the moment Primus had raised his weapon against the man who had invited him to the celebration of his son’s birthday, they had ceased to matter in this place.
Behind Hadjar, the heavy doors of the gates slammed shut, and the valet, after clearing his throat, loudly announced: “Please welcome our guest of honor, General Hadjar Traves!”
The music stopped, the dancing couples froze, and conversations subsided. The people looked at the hobo standing at the door. However, they didn’t see a beggar there, but a wild beast, pawing the ground in anticipation, ready to pounce. It clashed with the atmosphere of the upcoming celebration.
“The bards weren’t wrong about your peculiar nature, General,” a voice sounded from the depths of the hall.
Everyone immediately turned to King Primus, who was sitting on the high throne.
Chapter 194
The throne, which was now on a high pedestal, looked nothing like Hadjar remembered it. Neither did the person sitting on.
The still fit but completely gray-haired man rose slowly. Deep
