Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 575: The Tyrant King 2

The eunuch beside the throne leaned in, whispering into the king’s ear. Midas chuckled—low, dark, and hungry.

"She has a sharp tongue. Break it, and she’d be much more pleasant to look at." His gaze crawled over her again. "Tell me, what does Azurverda feed its women? They seem bolder than their men."

Lara met his stare head-on. "Respect" she said simply. "Strength, purpose, freedom of choice." She said with deliberate slowness, accentuating each word.

The king’s laugh died in his throat. A vein pulsed at his temple.

"How dare you? You presume to lecture me?" He leaned forward, the gold ornaments of his crown chiming as they shifted. "Here, women serve. They do not speak unless permitted. They certainly do not challenge me in my own hall."

Odin moved a fraction, instinct sharpening his features. Midas noticed—and smiled, cruel and deliberate.

"Your general twitches like a dog," he said. "One command from me, and his head rolls before it hits the floor."

The temperature in the hall seemed to drop. Guards stiffened at the edges of the chamber, hands tightening around spear shafts.

Lara inhaled slowly. "Your Majesty," she said, voice controlled but powerful, "we did not cross rivers and mountains to provoke hostility. We came to offer a trade that could benefit Westalis. Our products are valuable, and we hope your kingdom will consider them with fairness."

"Fairness?" Midas repeated, as though tasting a foreign word. "Fairness is what the strong owe the weak. Are you asking me to show mercy?" The king tried to provoke her.

"We are asking for opportunity," Lara replied calmly.

The king rose.

Every person in the hall flinched a half-step back—every person except Lara and the delegation from Azurverda.

Midas descended the dais one slow, resonant footstep at a time. His cloak dragged across the floor like a dark tide, the embroidered gold catching the light in violent flashes. When he stopped before Lara, he towered over her, close enough that she could smell the bitter spice of the wine on his breath.

"You have courage, little girl," he murmured, his voice a blade’s edge. "Courage... or idiocy." His fingers lifted, barely brushing a lock of her hair. "If I ordered it, they would carve obedience into you."

The eunuch grinned, anticipating the spectacle.

Lara didn’t flinch. "Do not underestimate me Your Highness. They would fail," she said quietly.

Another collective gasp broke across the hall like shattering glass.

For a suspended moment, Midas’s expression twisted—surprise, anger, fascination all battling for dominance. He was not accustomed to defiance, and certainly not from a woman. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

Behind Lara, Odin and his sons stood like storm-forged statues. Kasmeri subtly shifted to step beside Lara, shielding Nympha. Bernard’s jaw locked so tight a muscle jumped.

Finally, Midas exhaled sharply through his nose.

"Very well," he said, turning his back on her with insulting nonchalance. "Show me these marvelous wares of Azurverda. And pray they impress me... for your sake."

He ascended the dais once more, cape swirling, settling back into his throne with the satisfaction of a man who believed he still held every string.

The tension in the hall did not ease. It simply changed flavor—no longer fear alone, but a coiled, dangerous anticipation. Something in the air promised that the next moments would shape the fate of a kingdom and an empire.

...

Soon, servants scurried out with trays, sweeping away wine goblets and half-finished dishes as though removing any distraction from the impending display. The hall seemed to inhale collectively.

Lara finished a goblet of wine before she stepped back into line with the delegation, her movements smooth, but her eyes flicked around the chamber—calculating.

Westalis was a kingdom gilded in wealth, yet everything here had an edge to it: the guards stationed too thickly near the pillars, the nobles whispering behind jeweled fans, the court officials casting skeptical looks at the envoys while pretending to watch the throne. More than half the hall had already dismissed Azurverda as insignificant... and that would cost them.

Westalis was a strategic seaport. The palace had seen too many merchants and different kinds of wares to marvel at. The king had even collected over a dozen women of different eye and hair colors in his harem.

Lara stepped forward, voice polished and diplomatic. "Your Majesty, we wish to present goods that demonstrate Azurverda’s innovation... and its willingness to establish a reciprocal alliance with Westalis."

"Alliance?" Midas drawled, swirling wine in his goblet. "You presume much, little girl. Empires do not ’ally’ with the hungry little nations beneath them. They absorb them."

That earned scattered nods from sycophantic nobles. The crown prince smirked openly.

Kasmeri bowed his head with just enough deference to avoid provoking Midas further. "Then consider this an investment opportunity. Westalis excels in wealth and is famous for its spices. Azurverda excels in resources that your kingdom does not have—and that your rivals desperately seek."

A subtle shift traveled through the court at the word rivals. A dangerous word. A sharp one.

King Midas raised an eyebrow.

"Rivals? Aren’t you speaking about your empire?"

Kasmeri didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped aside, and Bernard produced a lacquered box. Nympha opened it, revealing a set of fist-sized balls—iridescent, shimmering with an inner light.

The murmurs began at once.

"What is that? How come it glows like a luminous pearl but a lot brighter?"

The crown prince leaned forward. "Where did they get those?"

Kasmeri clasped his hands behind him. "This is what we call the light bulb invented by our master. This is far brighter compared to several candles and is smokeless. A solar panel powers this."

Midas’s wine goblet stilled in his hand.

For the first time, silence fell because the king himself had gone still.

He signaled a steward. The steward rushed forward to take the ball and deliver it to the throne. Midas held it in his hands—not gently. Testing its resilience and testing their claims.

"It’s light," he muttered. "Too light."

"It is breakable, Your Highness. Please be careful." Kasmeri said.

Midas closed his fist—and squeezed. The bulb shattered into pieces, cutting the king’s palm and crimson dripped from his palm.

The hall strained with quiet fear.

"Your highness—"

Kasmeri took out another light bulb from the box and flicked a switch. White light emanated from the bulb, and a wave of startled whispers swept the room.

This time, Midas did not hide his interest.

"Good. You amazed me. You bring me something valuable," he acknowledged slowly. His gaze darkened. "But value draws enemies. And Westalis," he said, leaning back into his throne, "already has enough."

There it was—the real concern, the real barrier. Midas was not merely arrogant. He was wary. Ruthless. Suspicious of threats to his control.

Bernard stepped forward. "Respectfully, Your Majesty, if Westalis does not seize this opportunity now, your western neighbors will. You know how aggressively they had been expanding their borders. They—"