The Scarred Queen's Rise (Athena) novel Chapter 469

Chapter 469

Inside the Imperial Palace.

Inside the bronze crane-shaped censer, precious ambergris burned, its fragrant smoke curling gracefully upward from the bird’s beak.

Arthur sat regally upon the dragon throne, his commanding gaze fixed on Ferris, who knelt in the center of the grand hall.

His face was beaded with fine sweat, his expression a tight mask of suppressed agony.

When the hourglass ran out, Arthur finally spoke in a measured tone, “As a shadow, you should know your place. How dare you meddle in the affairs of the Osborne family? Do you have a death wish?”

Ferris, pale with pain, replied respectfully, “Your Majesty, please quell your anger. I did this also for Your Majesty’s sake.”

Arthur let out a cold chuckle, his eyes sharp and calculating. “Oh? For my sake, you say? Then tell me-how exactly is this for me?”

“I have investigated and found that the Osborne family and the Duke of Suffield are both under the banner of Prince Fermin. If these two houses join forces, they may pose a threat to Your Majesty,” Ferris replied respectfully.

Arthur narrowed his eyes and thundered, “How audacious! You dared to investigate a prince-what punishment do you deserve?”

Ferris replied respectfully, “I know only loyalty to Your Majesty. Even if Your Majesty were to take my life, I would die without resentment.”

Ferris stole a furtive glance at Arthur. The emperor appeared languid; though his gaze was stern, there was no trace of murderous intent.

Sure enough, he had struck a chord with Arthur.

All emperors guard their power jealously. How could Arthur possibly allow Prince Fermin’s influence to grow unchecked?

His gamble paid off.

Ferris said, “Your Majesty, the Marquis of Somers is a formidable warrior, and the Osborne troops obey only his command. This bodes ill for the throne. As your loyal servant, I naturally wish to share Your Majesty’s burdens.” With these words, Ferris prostrated himself, pressing his forehead to the marble floor before Arthur.

As Arthur observed Ferris’s submissive posture, the hostility in his eyes gradually faded.

Arthur was an emperor after all-only with absolute power firmly in his grasp could he truly feel secure.

As the Queen’s own son, Fermin has spent all these years maneuvering for one purpose only-to claim the position of Crown Prince.

The ambitions of the Queen and Fermin were not lost to Arthur.

If not for the shortage of capable military commanders at court, Arthur would have reined in the Osborne family long ago.

Arthur fixed a menacing gaze on Ferris in the hall, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his eyes.

‘Ferris-now that’s a sharp blade indeed, Arthur thought.

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Chapter 469

Rise, Arthur commanded, then shot a meaningful glance at Thanatus.

Understanding the emperor’s silent cue, Thanatus descended the marble steps and approached Ferris, respectfully presenting a small vial of medicine before him.

Ferris’s hand trembled as he reached out, grasped the vial, and swallowed the medicine in one swift gulp.

As the antidote took effect, easing his pain, the tension in his expression gradually melted away.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Ferris replied.

Arthur snorted coldly and said, “Consider this your warning. Should there be a next time, I shall not spare you.”

Ferris feigned a look of profound trepidation, though inwardly he remained perfectly composed. “I wouldn’t dare,” he replied.

“You may leave,” Arthur said, waving his hand dismissively.

As Ferris withdrew from the hall, Arthur’s gaze lingered on his retreating figure. Then, withdrawing his eyes, he sank into deep thought.

Arthur thought to himself, ‘Prince Fermin is far from my ideal choice as heir apparent. He has boundless ambition, yet lacks the commanding presence to steer the ship of state.

None of the remaining princes showed any promise as heirs.

Evander was too uncompromising and lacked political flexibility; a man like him was only suited to be a carefree prince.

Indeed, that was precisely how Evander had been living.

All these years, and he still hadn’t shown the slightest bit of progress.

He had neither excelled nor erred; it was as if he had voluntarily given up all ambition for the race for the throne.

Fabian had just turned fourteen.

He was far too green-simply no match for his imperial brothers.

Besides, Fabian’s mother was of humble origin, with no influential family to support him. He was as helpless as a lamb- what capability could he possibly have?

Arthur grew restless. He was already forty-eight years old, though still at the peak of his power.

Yet none of my imperial sons could ever measure up to Xander.