Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

Chapter 109  Forgotten son(2)

"What do you mean, he disappeared?" Empress Valeria's voice was laced with irritation as she sat at the head of the council table, her piercing eyes focused on Lord Vrator, her nephew .Normally, the fate of the little bastard wouldn't have concerned her. He was nothing more than a stain, a reminder of a long-buried indiscretion. But the audacity—the insult—of someone daring to make a mockery of her authority within her own city made her blood boil.

Lord Vrator, her nephew, bowed his head slightly, visibly uncomfortable under the Empress's withering gaze. "Your Grace," he began cautiously, "the guard was found unconscious near the entrance to the dungeons. It appears the infiltrators placed an open bottle of wine beside him after bringing him out of the cell. Those who passed assumed he had simply... drunk himself to sleep.So for some time the matter was left unreported as the discipline within the dungeon keeper is lax at best, only when the guards woke up on his own, we understood what had happened"

Valeria's lips curled into a scowl, her fair face tightening with rage. "Are the guards in this palace for show? How is it that no one saw two men and a boy leaving the grounds?" Her voice rose sharply, each word biting, her frustration unmasked.

Vrator swallowed hard. "The guards reported no one passing through the main gate, Your Grace, which is the only way out. We suspect there may be a secret passage—one previously unknown, perhaps one used during the castle's construction. We are investigating now." He kept his eyes on the floor, afraid to meet her fiery gaze.

"Incompetence," Valeria spat, slamming her hand down on the table with a sharp crack that echoed in the chamber. "Monkeys would do a better job than this." Her voice dripped with venom. "Do you have any idea what this means? They didn't just take some random prisoner;they have no use for that bastard they took him only to spite me and humiliate me, to let me know I am powerless . And they did it under my nose!" Her fist clenched. "If this can happen, what's to stop them from kidnapping someone who actually matters? When my father returns, he will hear of this, and he will think us fools."

Vrator hesitated, mouth opening slightly as if to defend himself or offer a solution. But Valeria's sharp, icy gaze cut him off before he could utter a word.

''Organize search parties on every inch of land under my son's rule, I want the bastard's head at my feet as soon as possible''she gave a look to her nephew

"Leave," she commanded, her voice low and seething. "I am tired of staring at failure." The room fell into a tense silence, the only sound the soft rustle of Lord Vrator's cloak as he quickly bowed and retreated from her sight, leaving Valeria to seethe alone in her fury.

As the heavy doors of the council chamber slammed shut behind her departing nephew, Empress Valeria remained seated at the head of the long table. Her hands were still clenched into fists, her knuckles white from the force. Slowly, she released her grip, taking in a long, deep breath. Her chest heaved with the effort, but the tension in her muscles didn't dissipate. She reached up and touched her temple, massaging it lightly as she tried to steady herself. 'Breathe, Valeria. Control yourself.' But even in her own thoughts, the words felt hollow. It wasn't just the disappearance of that illegitimate wretch gnawing at her—it was the knowledge that her father, was soon to arrive. She could already see him, standing tall and stern in the entrance hall, his eyes cold and unforgiving as they swept over her. He had that way of making everyone—even her—feel small. It wasn't fear exactly, but something worse. The constant pressure to prove herself worthy of the blood that coursed through her veins, though it seemed to never be enough

And now this.

Tiberius, that little blot , had vanished, and she knew her father would not overlook it. He never overlooked anything. A small mistake, a minor failure, and it would be as though the entire foundation of her authority had crumbled, he hated mistakes. Especially when they came from her.

Even after ascending to the title of Empress, that feeling—the one she had always felt under her father's gaze—never disappeared. In fact, it had grown worse with time. As a child, all that was required of her was to study under her tutors, to be a diligent and obedient daughter. Back then, her father's cold, watchful eyes were an ever-present weight, but then the stakes had been low. A missed lesson or a wrong answer would earn her a scolding, nothing more.

But now, as empress, that same gaze carried a far more oppressive weight. It wasn't just about pleasing him anymore. Now, it meant maintaining control over an entire empire—keeping her grip tight on the pulse of the city, its people, its nobles, and its politics. And with every passing day, she felt herself struggling to hold on. Back then, failure meant disappointment. Now, it meant the crumbling of her authority, the collapse of everything she had worked for. And even as she wore the crown, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was still that small girl, trembling under her father's unforgiving gaze, forever trying to prove herself.

A sharp knock interrupted her thoughts, snapping Empress Valeria out of her brooding. She took a deep breath, straightened her posture, and forced a calm expression onto her face.

"Enter," she called, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her chest.

The door creaked open, and she immediately recognized the figure standing in the doorway. Lord Marcellus. His square face, with its strong chin and short black hair, was unmistakable. He carried himself with the quiet confidence of a man who had seen much and feared little.

Valeria allowed a smile to touch her lips, one of the rare genuine expressions she could muster in these troubled times. "Lord Marcellus," she said, her tone warming as she gestured for him to enter. "It is always a pleasure. Come, sit with me."

Marcellus bowed his head slightly and stepped into the room, his dark eyes taking in the scene with a quick, assessing glance. He moved with the grace of a seasoned warrior but bore the composure of a statesman. As he approached, Valeria reached for a silver decanter of wine on the table beside her and poured the rich red liquid into two goblets.

"Join me for a drink, my lord?" she asked, offering him one of the cups.

Marcellus nodded and accepted the wine, lowering himself into the chair beside her. The empress studied him for a moment, taking in the sharp lines of his face, the way his jaw tightened as he took a sip from the cup he filled.

 Setting his goblet down, he leaned forward slightly, his voice low and filled with concern.

"Is everything all right, Your Grace?" he asked softly, his gaze searching hers. "You seem... burdened."

Valeria exhaled slowly, allowing herself a rare moment of vulnerability. She swirled the wine in her cup, her eyes following the movement of the liquid. "I'm just... tired," she said, her voice quieter than usual. Marcellus nodded, understanding etched in his features. "I understand the strain of leadership, though mine is nothing compared to yours. But my dear Empress," he said, reaching across the small distance between them and gently taking her hand in his. His touch was firm yet comforting, his fingers rough from years of wielding a sword. "I am here to serve your every need. Whatever you ask, I will do. You need only give the word."

He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss against her knuckles. His gaze remained locked on hers, the gesture both respectful and intimate. She smiled, allowing herself to indulge in the moment. It had been a long time since someone had shown her this kind of attention, this kind of devotion. "Marcellus," she said softly, her voice a whisper now. "You always know how to ease my troubles. I've been surrounded by sycophants and schemers for so long, it's refreshing to have someone I can trust."

Marcellus's eyes darkened slightly, a hint of something more than mere loyalty in his gaze. "I am yours to command, Empress," he repeated, his voice lower, more intimate.

Valeria tilted her head slightly, studying him. There was a moment, a spark of something more—unspoken, but present in the air between them. She leaned closer, her lips curving into a knowing smile.

"Perhaps there is something more I require from you," she said, her words hanging between them like a whispered promise.

Marcellus's breath hitched slightly, but he remained composed. He stood slowly, offering her his hand once more, his gaze never leaving hers. Valeria took it, rising to her feet with grace

Without a word, she led him towards her private chambers. Marcellus followed her, like a puppy mixed with something more primal, something that neither of them could deny. @@novelbin@@

As the door to her chambers closed behind them, Valeria smiled, allowing herself—just for a moment—to forget the weight of her crown, as she allowed the man to take the queen.