Prince Khan’s eyes gleamed coldly as he aimed the gun at Ambrose’s left leg. The room fell dead silent.“You know,” he said casually, his voice smooth but sharp, “it would be so fitting if I left a scar.”He let the words hang in the air, the meaning clear enough to make the crowd uneasy. His finger rested on the trigger.“Then every time you see it, you’ll remember that he—” he gestured toward Asher with a smirk, “—is not someone you ever want to mess with.”Ambrose’s face went pale, his breathing shallow. His eyes darted between Khan and Asher, but neither showed any sign of mercy. His leg felt like it was going to buckle under him.Prince Khan turned to Asher, his eyes glinting with a dangerous excitement."What do you think, General?" he asked, sounding almost playful. "Should I leave him with a permanent reminder of his stupidity? A scar he’ll never forget?"Asher’s gaze moved to Ambrose, his face still calm and unreadable, like someone watching a show. He seemed to think it over

As Ambrose finished his elaborate tale, he was expecting shock, anger, or even retribution to follow but the ruler leaned back slightly on his throne, his expression unchanging. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his tone disturbingly casual.“Dispose off Harry’s body. This court is no place for such a mess.”Ambrose’s heart plummeted. His mouth opened to protest, to plead for the ruler to see the supposed truth in his accusations, but no sound came out. His face drained of color as the ruler stood, his piercing gaze sweeping past him as though he were invisible.With deliberate steps, the ruler approached Asher. The room braced for confrontation, everyone thought this was the moment justice, or vengeance, would unfold. But instead, the ruler's face eased up, and a rare, almost fatherly smile appeared, changing his usual serious look.“My boy,” he said warmly, his voice carrying across the hall. “It’s been too long.”To everyone’s astonishment, the ruler extended his arms, pulli

The room grew even more tense as Ambrose’s sudden outburst broke the silence.His face turned red with anger, and he glared straight at Asher, his voice rising.“Who do you think you are, Asher?” Ambrose shouted, his voice full of anger. “What makes you so special that you can stand there acting like you’re in charge?""You’re nothing! Just a bully hiding behind the ruler’s protection!”Ambrose wasn’t just angry, though. He knew what he was doing. His pride had already been crushed by the ruler, but this was different. This wasn’t just about challenging Asher out of spite, he was trying to play the ruler’s emotions. If he could make Asher look like a bully, maybe the ruler would feel sorry for him, or at least see Asher in a bad light.He was trying to turn the tables, using his pride in a way that could make the ruler pity him, instead of seeing him as the one in the wrong. The crowd gasped, shocked that Ambrose would say something so bold.Even the ruler’s face grew colder, his ey

Asher kept his eyes on Ambrose, but inside, his thoughts were filled with disgust.The medicine shop Ambrose was clinging to so desperately wasn’t even his to begin with. Asher knew the truth, though Ambrose probably thought otherwise.The shop had once belonged to a family of skilled healers in Drakmont. They had run it for generations, helping everyone, whether they were rich or poor.Then Ambrose showed up. Using his position as Left Chancellor, he came up with a scheme so twisted it made Asher’s stomach turn.He accused the family of using dangerous and illegal practices in their treatments, a complete lie. The accusation destroyed their reputation, and the town turned against them. With no one to support them, the family had no choice but to give up the shop. Ambrose swooped in and took it for himself, pretending he was helping.The family lost everything and had to leave Drakmont in shame.And now here Ambrose was, acting like the shop was something he’d built from scratch.Ash

Everyone’s head turned at once to see who had spoken. All eyes landed on the doorway, where a man stood tall and proud. He was dressed in the official robes worn by the ministers of the court. The tall figure stepped into view and his presence sliced through the room like a cold blade.It was Elias.The way his robes looked told everyone exactly how important he was. He wore deep violet robes lined with silver, the kind only the top ministers in Drakmont were allowed to wear. The shining crest on his chest left no room for doubt. The moment he stepped into the room, the mood changed. Conversations stopped. Even the other ministers straightened up.Someone whispered, “Elias… the Minister of Court Rights.”And just like that, the air grew heavy. Elias wasn’t some random official, he was the man in charge of every event, gathering, performance, or important visitor that came to Drakmont. If any event happened in that court, it had to go through him. Whatever he said was law because the r