Chapter 19: Bursting In

When the heavy double doors of the Throne Hall groaned open, every head turned in unison.

The nobles, having already witnessed the new Lumiel’s debut yesterday, and having thoroughly experienced that he was no longer a weak-minded boy to be trifled with, immediately parted, creating a wide path for him.

However, the wives, except Eleanor, who wore a little smile all had their expressions twisted in varying degrees of shock.

They could hardly recognize him. The features were there, yes, the nose, the curve of the jaw but sharpened, refined. Everything else was different. The posture and the presence.

“I do hope I didn’t make my subjects wait too long,” Lumiel said with a soft, disarming smile.

Behind him, Alice had a hard time keeping her face straight.

Lumiel had purposefully wandered around the palace, taking the scenic route, inspecting tapestries, and adjusting his cuffs for nearly ten minutes before finally coming here.

If the old Lumiel was late to court out of paralyzing fear, delaying the inevitable awkwardness, this new version was late simply because he could be.

At Lumiel’s words, several nobles silently gritted their teeth, but their smiles remained plastered on.

“Not at all, Your Majesty. You have come at the perfect time,” said Chancellor Roland Kestrel, bowing his head.

Lumiel smiled as he walked past him.

“As King, I unfortunately have been quite busy since this morning,” he said shamelessly.

Alice’s expression twitched slightly, remembering exactly how busy he had been with Regina in the bathroom. Very busy indeed.

“And I will be even busier from now on,” he added. “But I know I can count on my Court to do the small works for me while I rule.”

Everyone smiled back, though most looked like they were swallowing lemons.

No matter how many times they looked at him, they couldn’t understand the change. How had his tongue become this smooth, this sharp? He was purposefully triggering them with each syllable, reminding them with every breath that HE was the King and they were merely the help.

“Of course, Your Majesty; we are here to serve you…”

Lumiel stopped mid-stride and took a couple of steps backward, turning to face Mark Lewis, the Treasurer.

“I am glad I can count on your expertise, Mark,” he said with a warm smile.

Mark bowed his head deeply, sweat beading on his forehead. Why did that smile make him feel like his ledgers were being audited by a dragon?

Resuming his walk, Lumiel soon reached the proximity of the throne.

His gaze swept over his wives, ready to offer a greeting, but when he spotted Asthenia lounging on the Queen’s throne, he stopped dead for a brief moment.

She was staring back at him, mouth slightly parted, her mask of arrogance cracking under pure shock. She was trying to reconcile the boy who used to stutter in her presence with the man standing before her.

However, Lumiel wasn’t looking at her face. He was looking at what she was sitting on.

A second later, he resumed walking and stopped right below the dais.

He didn’t climb. Instead, he stood there, his hands resting on the pommel of Hyperion. He looked up at Asthenia with a slight exasperated smile.

There was a tense silence as the entire court watched.

Even Asthenia was caught off guard. She was used to being the center of attention, she thrived on it actually but this felt different. She felt exposed. Almost embarrassed, for reasons she couldn’t explain.

“Asthenia,” Lumiel called her again with a tired sigh.

Asthenia didn’t speak. Her brain was still buffering, trying to process the new reality.

“Would you be kind enough to get down from my Queen’s throne?” He asked. The smile was gentle, but the tone was condescending, as if he were speaking to a toddler who had climbed onto the dining table.

Beside the smile, his golden-amber eyes held absolutely no warmth.

Asthenia noticed that look. Her survival instincts, honed in the viper pit of the Solaris duchy, kicked in. She understood instantly that speaking back or defying him right now would be a mistake.

Without a word and gritting her teeth slightly, she stood up from the throne, smoothed her dress, and descended the stairs.

Lumiel’s smile widened slightly as he watched her compliance.

She was smart. She had a temper, yes, but she knew when to fold. He appreciated that trait.

He waited until she had completely cleared the stairs his eyes following her, before stepping onto the dais himself.

Ascending to the throne, he settled into the red velvet seat, taking off Hyperion from his belt and placed it within easy reach beside him against the side of the throne, and crossed his legs.

When he turned his gaze upon the assembly, they immediately dropped to their knees. Just like yesterday, it was Eleanor who initiated the movement, triggering a domino effect of submission.

The fact that Eleanor had to start it truthfully irritated quite a bit Lumiel. It was a subtle sign that his authority wasn’t yet absolute it seems. They were following protocol, not the man. He needed to break them further. He needed them to submit instinctively, not performatively otherwise nothing would change.

It would be impossible to rule a kingdom with snakes whispering behind his back. Lumiel despised hypocrites. In a perfect world, he would have fired the entire court and started fresh. But this wasn’t a perfect world; it was a kingdom inheriting a power vacuum, and these people had served his father. He would give them the benefit of the doubt.

Once.

A minute passed in heavy silence. The only sound in the vast hall was the rhythmic ’tap’ of Lumiel’s finger against the golden armrest.

No one moved. They just waited, heads bowed, sweat beginning to bead on collars.

Then he spoke.

“I will speak with my wives alone first. Everyone else, get out,” he said, his voice bored.

Surprise rippled through the room. The nobles looked visibly upset at being dismissed like servants, but no one dared to voice a complaint. They shuffled backward, bowing, and began to file out.

“Alice,” Lumiel called out, raising his voice just enough to ensure it carried to the exiting crowd. “Keep an eye on them. If any of them say a single word against me, note their names. I will have them beheaded before supper.”

Several nobles flinched violently, their steps faltering.

“Y—Your Majesty…” Alice bowed her head awkwardly, her face pale.

Why was he asking her that? And out loud?! She was just a maid! He was painting a target on her back the size of the sun itself.

Regardless, she obeyed, hurrying out after the terrified nobles to perform her terrifying new duty.

When the doors of the Throne Hall boomed shut, only his seven wives remained.

They knelt in a semi-circle before the dais, heads bowed.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep