Yet Kamila had given her all just to make him happy.
Lith’s smile grew even wider at the memory of how proud she had been once she had finally mastered the recipe.
As for the mattress, it was just something worth a few copper coins, but back then it had meant the world to him. When he had woken up and found the mattress shredded along with the bedsheets, Lith had been terrified at the idea that he might have also hurt Kamila.
Much to his surprise, not only was she unscathed but she had also embraced him to calm him down instead of running away.
That mattress was the proof that she wasn’t afraid of him and that she loved him for who he was and not despite of it.
The moment when he had realized that even in his sleep his body refused to hurt her and that she had chosen to remain by his side despite the apparent threat he posed had been one of the happiest of his life.
Even the knick-knacks triggered fond memories. Back when he had just moved in, Kamila had nagged at him that to be their apartment instead of just hers, it needed to have something that gave the place Lith’s personal touch.
They had gone together window shopping to find some non-tacky stuff that Lith liked and that he had later forged in the tower since he was too stingy to actually buy them.
‘If she ever learns the truth, she’ll skin me alive.’ He inwardly chuckled.
“Why are you smiling?” Kamila asked and Lith shared with her all the thoughts that had just crossed his mind.
“Good gods, I should really skin you alive.” The revelation actually made her laugh as well.
“You know, Kami, I’d rather our apartment be destroyed than be taken by others. Even the thought makes me feel violated.”
“Me too.” She said after a while. “I’m going to take a shower and then I’ll go straight to bed. Promise me that you’ll wake me up when you come back. I’ve been worried for you all day and I won’t have peace until I hold you in my arms.” She said.
“I promise. I love you, Kami.”
“I love you more.” She gave him a dazzling smile and hung the call.
When Solus finally recovered a couple of hours later, the tower was back to normal. Once they made sure that her life force had sustained no damage and that the tower core had regained more than enough energy for a Warp, they returned to the Desert.
The following morning, Lith assembled his family in the Overlord’s dining room, hoping to convince them over breakfast to stay out of the Griffon Kingdom until he was certain of the goodwill of the Royals.
Useless to say, they refused to listen to a single word.
***
City of Valeron, Royal Palace, a couple of days later.
Despite the uphill war against Thrud and the fact that calling the nature of the event controversial was a huge understatement, the Banquet Hall was filled to the brim with nobles, mages, and Awakened from all over the Griffon Kingdom.
The ceremony for the ascension of a new Magus was an event that happened less than once per century so anyone with the flimsiest connection with the Verhen household had requested an invitation.
The Royals had been forced to turn down even some of their most loyal followers of least importance to make room for the members of the Council and a few unexpected guests of honor.
As a descendant of one of the four founding pillars of the Kingdom and Lith’s mentor, the Royals had expected Faluel to take part in the event.
“Lady Faluel Metina Riseta Nyxdra and Her Excellency the Archduchess Fyrwal Aurea Verena Nyxdra.” The fact that she trusted the Crown so little that she would bring along her mother, not so much.
The Royal valet announcing someone bearing the very same name of one of the legendary companions of the First King shut up even the chattiest mouth and made Meron clench his teeth.
“Who could possibly be so noble and yet so rude?” Many people said throughout the room. “It’s a non-written law to not soil the names of the forebearers of the Kingdom.”
Very few people in the Banquet Hall knew that the two women were Emperor Beasts, let alone that Fyrwal was the very same person who had helped Valeron to unify the Griffon Kingdom over one thousand years ago.
Everyone else stared in spite at the double door behind the valet, expecting to see a couple of country bumpkins with more money than brains walk in. Much to their surprise, the two women were as impressive as the family name they bore.
Faluel’s human appearance was that of a young woman in her mid-twenties, about 1.7 meters (5’7″) tall, with waist-long light brown hair and hazel eyes. Her face had a delicate oval shape and the light makeup she wore along with her voluminous soft hair framed her fine features.
She wore a cream-colored gala dress embroidered in silver and decorated with several mana crystals shaped to look like precious gems. It left exposed her fair shoulders and arms, sticking to her body like a second skin until the hips.
Her gown was loose and fluffy, giving the impression that she walked on a cloud that danced around her with each step she took.
Many remembered her from the time she had accompanied Lith to the gala where he had a ‘friendly spar’ with Archmage Kwart before being awarded by the Royals for the destruction of Kolga and the rescue of the Feymar mines.
It was more than enough to earn her reproachful looks and the suspicion of being a beast in disguise as well.
“Gods, this place hasn’t changed one bit.” Fyrwal ignored the silent hostility that surrounded them, focusing on the Royal Palace. “It’s still as beautiful as those who roam it are unpleasant.”
She stopped for a second abreast of the valet so that the same perfect acoustic that carried his voice also spread her words throughout the Banquet Hall.
“Mom! I brought you here to keep things from escalating, not to start a war.” Faluel whispered in embarrassment.
“Why are you whispering?” The Elder Hydra asked. “We aren’t guests here, they are. We built this place and we own it. These so-called nobles fill their mouths with Valeron’s name while they spit on everything he stood for with a smile on their faces.
“They talk all day about how great they are and are quick to judge. Yet if even one-tenth of what they say were true, The Kingdom would have conquered Garlen and Verendi ten times already.
“They are a disgrace to this country and killing them all should be considered an act of mercy, not a crime.”
If anyone else were to say such things, they would have been lynched by a blue-blooded mob and their corpses hanged. Unless the Royal Guards summarily executed them for treason first, of course.
Yet everything in Fyrwal’s countenance from her voice to her stern look was that of an Empress walking among her subjects. She exuded a natural charisma and authority that made the nobles lower their gaze in shame and the Royal Guards stood on attention.
