Saved By The Mad Duke
Chapter 129: The Image Of A King

Chapter 129: The Image Of A King

Yuraon stood before the tall mirror in a wide gilded frame, his bright blue eyes meticulously scanning his unusual appearance.

The man staring back at him, his own reflection, was someone he did not recognize but was certainly willing to accept. Dressed in impeccably neat noble attire, he finally looked like a king. Or a more commonly acceptable image of a king, as he liked to think.

His attendant, Lord Cyrille, a man slightly older than the King, although equal in his handsomeness and build, stood right behind him, his narrow dark brown eyes continuously running up and down Yuraon’s reflection, his expression—a clear sign that he was still unwilling to accept his King’s new appearance.

"I still find it far too strange to see you dressed like this. It will probably take quite some time for your subjects to get used to this new look."

Yuraon’s lips spread into a wide grin.

"Now that my curse is gone and I can finally feel all the intricacies of the weather changes, I think it is preferable that I change my clothing style rather than die from something as trivial as a common cold."

Cyrille offered his lord an understanding laugh. Then, as his joyous emotions finally subsided, the man cleared his throat and said,

"I still don’t understand why we had to refuse King Ruan’s invitation to stay in his palace. I am sure most of the guests are occupying the guest wing anyway. Aren’t you afraid that it would still make you look somewhat ostracized?"

The young King finally turned around, his face now unexpectedly dark as he answered in a cold and serious tone,

"In respect of Duke Valentine’s past, I don’t find staying in the palace a wise decision. In addition, I don’t wish to encounter the Royal Family more than necessary. I will have a more enjoyable stay if I keep as far from them as possible. At least until the wedding banquet. This hotel is a better place for me."

The king’s attendant released a short sigh and shook his head in a rather disappointed manner.

"I still think it’s a shame, Your Majesty. If we stayed in the palace, we could have met Her Highness, Princess Melania Lafad, and perhaps had a chance to build a useful connection."

"With a princess?" Yuraon arched his dark eyebrows in bewilderment. "What do you know about her anyway?"

Cyrille simply shrugged his shoulders.

"I don’t know much about her, to tell you the truth. Lafad is a quiet kingdom; the ruling family is regarded as a prime example of impeccable lineage, even by Anathaen, which is quite a high praise, I must admit. And that is precisely why I think it was a grave mistake for them to send Princess Melania here to join the Ruans."

The young King crossed his muscular arms in front of his chest and tried to think about everything he knew about the Kingdom of Lafad.

Indeed, although not big in size, it was the land of warmth and prosperity, and its rulers were rumored to be quite respected and highly regarded by their people, mostly because even their family ties were unbelievably strong, and their devotion to their kingdom was admirable.

"Well, the Continental Union that Anathaen is trying to force onto our kingdoms is based on the contractual marriages that are supposed to ensure the Continent’s protection from political rivalry. Taking into consideration the size of Lafad... I won’t be surprised if Eurise’s end goal is to unite the lands to become an empire."

"I don’t think Anathaen will allow that." Cyrille leaned against the wall and crossed his arms as well, as if to imitate his king before continuing, "As the sole Empire of the Continent, they will make sure no other kingdom can even think of tipping the power scale in the wrong direction."

"Well... Whatever it is that they are scheming, it is hardly our problem. At least for now."

Yuraon ran his fingers through his dark blue, now slightly shorter and neatly styled hair, and sighed.

"So... Princess Melania will be the next Queen of Geraldion, huh? The Crown Prince must be pretty excited. After all, a woman coming from a good family is a rare gift, especially among the nobles. They have quite a different mentality there, beyond the sea."

Cyrille’s voice suddenly changed, acquiring surprising notes of sadness and, perhaps, even regret as he answered the king,

"Rumor has it the princess is quite unhappy here. She is leading a rather secluded life and rarely ventures beyond the palace’s walls. His Highness the Crown Prince pays her little attention which, perhaps, amplifies her melancholic mood. I dare to assume she is quite homesick, too."

"Well, that is indeed a shame." Yuraon nodded in understanding, "I have not been away from Davoor for that long, and although I was convinced I needed this time away from it all, I must admit, I miss my homeland. Perhaps it has something to do with the young age, too. Loneliness does not do us any good."

The young man averted his gaze, contemplating his own words. Somehow, he felt that he could probably understand the princess if they had a chance to talk, and he could not help but wonder if building a political connection with Ruans through her would indeed be easier than dealing with the Royal Family directly.

’Melania Lafad... A doted princess, thrown into a den of power-hungry wolves. What a pity indeed.’

The King’s musings were interrupted by a loud knocking on his hotel room door, jolting him out of his contemplative state back into reality.

"Come in!"

Following his order, the door opened, inviting a tall and slender man dressed in all black, with a long blade hanging from his thick leather belt. The man offered Yuraon a bow and reported,

"Your Majesty, I have returned with the news about the necromancer witch."

Yuraon straightened his posture, alerted by his scout’s words, and inquired,

"Yes? What is it?"

"Just as you suspected, Your Majesty, the witch came to the Capital. She is now staying in the inn not far from the Holy Church."