“Where is this village? The village that knows neither my charity, nor my generosity, the good life that I guarantee to the whole of Lidus?”
What generosity was he referring to, exactly? The slave yoke, the lashes of a whip upon a prisoner’s back, the dusty air of the mine they toiled in, or the slow death from suffocation that awaited most? Hadjar wanted to say all of that, spit these questions right in the face of his parents’ murderer, but he couldn’t do so yet.
“Where it once was, my King, now there are only stones and silence. An avalanche swept it all away. I’m the only one who survived.”
Nero and Serra looked at their friend. They’d never heard this part of his story.
“Well, Heavens as my witness, I grieve for your loss,” Primus patted the young man in front of him on the shoulder. “But we must all obey the same laws and violating them, sometimes, brings about a terrible punishment.”
Everyone in the room understood what the King was hinting at. That the village, by its attitude toward the crown, had brought about such a terrible misfortune on itself.
“It’s hard to argue with that, my King,” Hadjar bowed. “One day, everyone will get the punishment they deserve for their sins.”
A wave of whispers swept through the hall, and the palm on Hadjar’s shoulder gripped it tighter. Primus’ grasp hadn’t weakened over the years. In fact, it had become stronger. Primus could’ve easily shattered his bones if not for Hadjar’s Techniques.
“I’m glad to hear that we understand each other, Mad General,” the King’s voice remained calm, but only a deaf person wouldn’t have heard the threat in it.
There was silence again. Heavy, almost palpable. Like the hush before a battle between two armies. Who knows what could’ve happened next, if not for a soft and melodious voice calling out…
“Father,” came from the secret door behind the throne, “it seems you’ve forgotten that this is my celebration, and not one of your work meetings.”
Everyone immediately turned to the star of the occasion. Princess Elaine had finally arrived to the ball.
Chapter 195
As the Princess walked down the hall, the gasps of amazement grew louder and louder. From male and female guests alike. Wearing golden clothes, with a wreath atop her head that looked kind of like a crown, and ivy wrapped around her golden hair, she looked like a goddess descending from the Heavens. Her figure was amazing, with perfect proportions, her features almost otherworldly in their beauty. The sensual, scarlet lips and the piercing, clear blue eyes completed the devastating effect.
Her boots made a rhythmic noise as she walked across the marble. The subtle scent of her perfume spread across the room — the smell of a meadow full of flowers, a spring breeze, and a cold stream. She nodded to the musicians, who swallowed simultaneously and seemed to wake up from a trance. They began to play. Cheerful and light dance music floated over the heads of the people who stopped pretending to be stone sculptures. The people bowed to her, the King retreated to the side, and some couples were soon dancing once again. Elaine was like a spirit of spring, bringing life back to a frozen room.
The Princess looked at the General about whom she had heard so many songs and stories. To be honest, she’d always believed that the artists embellished his attractiveness in the portraits. Elaine now understood that, on the contrary, they hadn’t been able to convey what the Mad General actually looked like.
She’d always imagined him as a middle-aged man, with a lot of scars, tired eyes, and a slight half-smile. Sculptors and artists had portrayed the great Generals of the past this way. Elaine had presumed that Hadjar was the same.
In reality, standing in front of her was a young man who wasn’t older than twenty-five. He had clear skin, smooth features, and a figure that wasn’t associated with great power. Maybe with a great mind, the humility of a scholar, or possibly the slender beauty of a spoiled son of aristocrats, but not with a mighty general.
Only the feeling that had arisen in Elaine’s chest as she’d approached the General allowed her to claim with confidence that he was a dangerous person. Hadjar radiated the aura of a merciless beast. Elaine had felt that same kind of aura when, in her childhood, she’d been taken along on a tiger hunt.
She still remembered it to this day. A white tiger with black horns, clinging to a rock, had fought off 40 horsemen. None of them had dared to approach the enraged beast. They’d tried to kill it from afar, using their best Techniques and attacks, but they’d all proven useless against the fangs, claws, and fury of the beast.
This had lasted until her father had ordered the archers to fill the tiger with arrows. Even then, the wounded and bleeding tiger had continued to fight for its life. In its last moments, it had been able to take the leg of the Duke of Tevron to the grave with it. He still stood off to the side during a ball, leaning on a wooden crutch.
The Mad General was the same. Despite his harmless appearance, he radiated an aura of not just power, but danger. A wild, primal rage. A sheer willingness to, at any time, unsheathe the blade that served as his claws.
“Honorable General,” the Princess curtsied, and the King stepped aside slightly.
While the crowd of aristocrats was eagerly devouring the beautiful Princess with their eyes, Hadjar was seeing a ghost from the past.
It had been a lovely, warm spring morning. Their mother and father had sat in the gazebo and embraced each other in silence. It had been one of those rare few times when they’d been able to afford such a luxury.
“Catch
