Alhen had wide eyes. It was his first time stepping inside the pig district, or that’s how the father liked to call it.

  It seemed like another world.

  They had gone through tight security and control to get inside the walls separating this district from his district.

  People walked casually in the open air, wearing moon-blocking glasses, bustling through the wider streets.

  The cobblestone floor didn’t have cracks; it was polished and pristine.

  Housing resembled high-end capitals with many designs and art depicting beings made out of light.

  The streets were no longer dimly lit, and the lights added to the rich atmosphere.

  As the father and Alhen walked through the streets, the sound of laughter and conversations filled the air.

  The feeling of safety compared to when he was in his district caused him to relax and, for the first time in a while, to walk without being overly aware of his surroundings.

  He had to remind himself to focus ahead consciously; Father Vincent had a quick gait, and he would fall behind if his attention wandered.

  The Father moved with purpose, passing through many people who recognized him and turned to stare at him with wide eyes.

  When their gazes met him, they fell silent, not daring to utter a word.

  ‘What is happening? Could Father Vincent be well-known outside of the church?’ He wondered.

  Alhen watched the scene with a raised eyebrow.

  Despite everyone being from nobility, they didn’t dare cause trouble.

  The further they walked, the more people noticed his figure and followed the crowd’s example.

  The once lively and rowdy streets turned silent.

  The eyes of the multitude bore into their walking figures, and the only sound that could be heard was that of their rhythmic steps.

  ‘Thankfully, everyone is looking at Father Vincent. If it were me, I wouldn’t know what to do. It reminds me of Alaran; he has a presence wherever he goes. I should ask him how to be more like him when he returns next cycle,’ he thought.

  Alhen took his eyes away from Father Vincent for a moment, and when he looked back, he noticed the growing distance between them.

  ‘Crap, I can’t get distracted even for a second,’ he thought.

  He hurried behind him and looked up, and the view of a massive castle could be seen.

  Its primary colors were black and red, with four watchtowers and a single lonely flag waving in the wind above it.

  It was pristine, spotless, and Alhen marveled at the sight. It was his first time seeing a castle since arriving in this world, and he was excited to find out more about it.

  The flag’s design resembled an orange crown, and as they neared the structure, the massive gates came into view.

  Guards guarded the entrance and watched out for suspicious individuals.

  As their gaze landed on Father Vincent, the reaction was immediate.

  The guards widened their eyes and stood aside for him, opening the gates in a heartbeat.

  “Just who is the Father?” Alhen asked himself in a low voice as he stepped through into a garden of little white flowers, which glowed in the dark.

  Multiple trees with red leaves swayed in the gentle breeze, and the workers inside greeted them with a bow, showing the utmost respect.

  Two guards approached from behind and guided them inside.

  The corridor seemed to stretch for eternity, and a bright yellow light emanated from small, moving living beings that resembled mutated fairies, perched in lanterns on the wall.

  They stared at Alhen with no facial expression, but what made Alhen’s hair stand on end were the faces, which were fat, oily, and with many pimples adorning them.

  Their eyes were completely dark, and their heads were twice as big as their bodies.

  They flew naked, with small wings that pulsated with red veins, and crowded the glasses they were in as they watched their movements.

  Under their constant gazes, he felt something tugging at his chest, a feeling that left him uncomfortable as he followed Father Vincent.

  Alhen’s eyes kept darting around the corridor, while the father was the complete opposite.

  He saw no reaction from him, only his rhythmic steps, which followed the guards who were visibly sweating from his presence.

  It took them a few minutes to reach a large dining room.

  The doors were adorned with gold, and a bright, white, flowing pattern that spread to the walls added a mystical touch.

  Stepping inside, he couldn’t help but compare it to the one in the church, which looked like it would break any second.

  The place reeked of privilege, with almost everything being made of gold and valuable minerals.

  He remembered where Henry was born, the Lunar District, and the horrors that he had to go through unwillingly every day because he simply had no choice; he had been unlucky.

  ‘I wish things were different. If Henry were reincarnated, I hope that he will be born into a good family in a good world,’ Alhen thought.

  Considering that he himself had been reincarnated, Alhen had high hopes for his friend.

  It’s fine if they couldn’t be together in this life; maybe in the next one, they would see each other.

  ‘For now, I will carry the weight of having killed him, and I will do everything in my power to kill the person in front of me. I owe it to him,’ he thought.

  Old emotions surfaced once more before he held them back.

  Alhen took notice of the five individuals sitting around the long table and the sheer size of the room, which was half the size of the church.

  He didn’t get the chance to look around for long, as he heard chairs screeching along the floor.

  The five people who had been sitting in chairs had stood and now bowed towards the father, causing Alhen to look at him incredulously.

  ‘Hey! This is royalty that we are talking about. Why does the father get this much respect from them? This can make killing him more complicated, but it doesn’t matter, I’ll do it either way,' Alhen thought.

  Four of the people who had stood were young men, the oldest of whom looked to be in his early forties.

  They dressed in elegant clothing worthy of royalty members, and their posture and expression showed no lack of confidence and respect.

  Everyone followed the lead of the last person, a girl who looked to be no older than fifteen.

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  She was the first to sit, and then the sound of a thunderous clap filled the space.

  “Clap!” Everyone looked in the direction of the sound and saw the king, who had made his presence known.

  His red cape dragged behind him, with black fur adorning its top.

  Alhen noticed the red beard, redder than blood, that reached his chest, and the powerful frame underneath the clothes.

  The way he walked, the way he held himself, it all felt right.

  This was a man who had seen countless battles and had constantly dominated to get to the top.

  This is a ruler, Alhen had no doubt.

  The king strolled with deliberate steps, being controlled and drawing attention to himself.

  His head was devoid of any hair, and a shiny crown was perched on top of it.

  Father Vincent didn’t take his eyes off him, following with his gaze as the king approached him.

  “I started to believe that you would not accept my invitation.”

  The king’s deep voice reached his ears, making Alhen shudder.

  His hair stood on end, and something deep from within him warned him to be careful around this man.

  The feeling was faint at first, but it kept growing, even surpassing the time in which he had snuck up on the wiht back in that cave.

  To calm himself down, he had to avert his gaze and look at the ground, but remembering Father Vincent’s words, he looked up, ignoring how he felt.

  Alhen stared at the meeting between two powerful people, and the air was suffocating.

  Despite how he felt, the members at the table barely showed a reaction, sitting still and quietly on their chairs.

  “I had to come,” Father Vincent responded before the king stretched out his hand, and he shook it.

  “I see that you brought company. Do you mind telling me who this is?” The king asked

  Father Vincent nodded and placed a hand on Alhen’s shoulder.

  “This boy right here is my son.” A sudden twitch of the eye manifested on the king’s face but disappeared soon after.

  “Treat him right with the respect he deserves. He will be present at this meal and will listen to the proposition,” Father Vincent added, his words offering no chance for refusal.

  The king seemed not to have taken it well, showing a clear forced smile before shaking hands with Alhen.

  The king’s crushing grip turned his hand deathly pale, threatening to break it, but Alhen remained firm and avoided showing any signs of pain.

  This was a test, and he could feel it.

  If he were to show some sign of discomfort, even a slight twitch of a muscle, he didn’t know what would happen, but he for sure didn’t want to find out.

  Alhen resisted the urge to tremble from the king’s aura, which had seemed to take a physical manifestation of dark energy that surrounded his body.

  In his eyes, the king’s face deformed, taking a deranged shape that could give anyone nightmares.

  Despite not knowing how it was happening, he guessed it wasn’t real at all and was only a hallucination caused by his energy.

  The seconds drew on, and he could feel himself growing drained.

  Before the feeling could intensify, it stopped, and the world returned to its original form.

  “Good, you are allowed to sit and hear the proposition as well,” the king said.

  His hand loosened, and he guided them to the table where Alhen sat beside the father.

  The king sat at the end of the table beside the girl on a red and golden chair before clapping once with the usual power.

  In less than a second, multiple people dressed in red cloaks that hid their gender and faces appeared, carrying a dish with a lid.

  Alhen didn’t know where they had come from; he hadn’t been able to sense them at all.

  They placed them on the table with practiced ease and left in a heartbeat, fulfilling their purpose and disappearing just as fast as they had appeared.

  Alhen waited; everyone looked at the king, who, with a wave of his hand, commanded the people present at the table to remove the lids from the dishes.

  They didn’t wait a second longer before obeying, and the pleasant aroma of freshly cooked meat filled the space.

  His stomach growled at the notion of food better than the one served at the church, which he always had trouble eating.

  He snatched the lid from his plate, revealing the delicacy underneath.

  A red meat, soft and greasy, decorated with herbs and mushrooms that tempted him the more he stared.

  Without missing a beat, he took a fork from the table and went to dig into the meat, but Father Vincent placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

  He was dead serious—no facial expression, only an icy gaze that left Alhen paralyzed.

  ‘What happened? Did I do something wrong?’ he wondered, the feeling of dread increasing by the second as he noticed that everyone had been watching him.

  The king shook his head at Alhen’s actions before looking disappointedly at Father Vincent.

  Under the king’s gaze, Father Vincent’s grip tightened on Alhen’s shoulder, but he didn’t react yet again.

  If he did, only the father knew what would happen to him.

  “I expected better of you. It seems to me that the title of Kovesh has made you arrogant and irresponsible for not teaching your son basic respect,” the king said with a tone of voice that made it clear that he had been expecting more of Father Vincent's supposed son.

  Father Vincent narrowed his eyes as he looked towards the king.

  “I assure you that he will be disciplined later,” he said.

  Alhen visibly flinched at the mention of those words, he had yet to know what his mistake was, and he was already in trouble.

  “Also,” Father Vincent added, “be careful with what you say; I didn’t earn the title of Kovesh by being merciful. I could not care less that you are a king, remember that I could crush you whenever I feel like it.”

  The king’s gaze lingered on the father’s figure for a brief second, the tension mounting.

  This time, Alhen could see a reaction across the table; some had wide eyes while others seemed to enjoy the show before them.

  The girl on the table didn’t show any particular expression, looking bored and ready to take a bite out of her meal.

  Alhen, however, could feel his body being crushed by the pressure, his breathing turning ragged.

  After a few seconds of this, the king stated, “You may eat.”

  The figures present dug into their meal, and Alhen took an extra second to do it as well, not having recovered from the moment quite yet.

  ‘High-class etiquette, that’s what got me in trouble? So ridiculous! Why make such a show? Just eat the damn food and that’s it,’ Alhen thought angrily.

  He took a deep breath to calm himself and clear his mind.

  Now that there were no more distractions, and he had made sure not to break some kind of hidden rule, he directed his attention to the unknown red meat on his plate, which called to him.

  His fork dug in effortlessly before driving a small piece of the meat to his mouth.

  It gave in instantly, being relatively easy to chew and swallow.

  A kaleidoscope of flavors filled his mouth, with the meat being juicy and laced with something akin to black pepper seasoning.

  He cleaned his plate in record time, leaving nothing but bones.

  ‘These people surely know how to eat well. I’m kind of jealous of the food now. In the church, there’s soup every day, and it's not even good,’ he thought.

  Looking around, he noticed the slow, calculated cuts everyone made as they ate with finesse.

  A sense of unease started seeping in, but it lasted only a brief second as another plate made its way in front of him.

  A cloaked individual, having appeared from seemingly nowhere, had refilled his plate.

  Alhen barely had time to look in his direction before he left, disappearing into thin air.

  ‘This is very unsettling,' Alhent thought.

  'The dining room looks deserted except for the people at the table, but this is not the case. They are waiting in the shadows, waiting for someone to have a need they have to fulfill,' Alhen thought as he felt a growing sense of unease.

  He pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, however.

  Alhen guessed it would be quite some time before he had the opportunity to eat like this again, and he didn’t want to waste this opportunity.

  As he ate, his body shuddered, feeling someone’s blatant gaze on his person.

  Looking around, Alhen noticed someone looking intently at him with a slight smile.

  It was a sharp-featured man with orange hair that reached his shoulders.

  He had similarly colored eyes and a Luna signum on his forehead, having the symbol of a mouth showing its fangs.

  It didn’t glow, but a feeling deep inside of him made him guess that it was a high-ranking sign.

  He dressed entirely in white, with a long-sleeved turtle-neck shirt, long pants, and a belt that hugged his body with a golden buckle.

  It reminded him of the villagers who used similar clothing for their sacrificial dances, causing unwanted feelings to take place inside him.

  The voice of the king caught his attention, making him avert his gaze.

  “So, Kovesh, will you hear my proposition?” he asked casually while driving meat to his mouth.

  “Let us hear it.” Father Vincent replied.

  “I invited you to formally seek your aid in the upcoming war between the kingdom of Nurtria. You will be rewarded handsomely, of course. Name anything you want; if it is within my capabilities to grant it, you will have it as soon as possible,” the king said.

  Father Vincent didn’t look pleased with the proposition, a frown taking over his facial features, and after a few seconds, he stood to leave.

  “I must decline the offer; I am not interested in this war. There is nothing you can gift me that will change my mind.” Before he began walking away, the king stopped him.

  “It is regrettable that the most feared man in the world will not be able to help me with this, but I respect your decision. If you are not going to aid the kingdom in the war, that is fine, but I have another request,’ the king said.

  ‘The most feared man in the world?’ Alhent thought with curiosity evident in his features.

  If he wasn’t paying attention to the conversation before, it now had all of it.

  With those words, Father Vincent slowly sat again and placed complete focus on the king’s words.

  “My daughter beside me is going to get married soon, a political marriage. I want you to be her escort on the upcoming trip, as she is going to the Kingdom of Levex,” the king said and paused.

  “I do not expect you to do this for free, of course; a thousand royal gold coins will be at your disposal upon the completion of the task,” he finished.

  Alhen moved his gaze to the king’s daughter and then to the seat that stood empty next to her.

  He didn’t give it much thought and looked at Father Vincent, waiting to hear his answer.

  “A very generous offer indeed, but I must refuse,” he said.

  “I see… It’s a shame,” the king said.

  “If you will excuse m-...” Father Vincent stopped dead in his tracks, and Alhen got a bad feeling.

  He smiled, and Alhen’s stomach dropped.

  “Forget what I said, my son is up for the task. If you accept his help, I will aid you in the upcoming war.”

  The king smiled widely, looking very satisfied at the turn of events.

  He laughed heartily but composedly, restraining himself and looking like a refined gentleman.

  Alhen knew where the conversation was going, and he didn’t like it one bit.

  He gritted his teeth but didn’t allow his expression to be shown lest he suffer the consequences.

  Despite his negative feelings about the situation, there was nothing he could do.

  When his attention landed once again on the king, he saw him calm, now having a small smile.

  “I am truly grateful that your son wants to help me with this matter. I shall reluctantly accept his help.”

  Patreon here.