Fallen General's Omega (BL)
Chapter 82: Unrest

Chapter 82: Unrest

In the opulent meeting room of the royal palace, a group of high-ranking nobles gathered, their ornate clothing rustling as they shifted uncomfortably in their seats. The tension in the air was thick, the atmosphere heavy with barely restrained animosity. At the head of the room, seated on a throne that exuded authority, was the King, his face expressionless as he listened to the complaints being presented before him.

Beside the King, the Crown Prince lounged in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, a sly smirk playing on his lips. His presence was a stark contrast to his father’s regal stoicism; where the King maintained a sense of calm, the Crown Prince radiated condescension. His eyes glittered with barely hidden satisfaction as the nobles voiced their grievances. It was no secret that he relished the discomfort of others, especially when it served his own purposes.

"Your Majesty," one of the more outspoken nobles, Duke Edrin, began, his voice dripping with indignation.

"This is intolerable! General Thorne has overstepped his bounds yet again. His recent actions against the Robbens Dukedom are a blatant show of unchecked power. A military man, no matter how skilled, should not have the authority to dismantle a noble house without proper approval from the Crown!"

Murmurs of agreement echoed through the room, and several nobles nodded, their faces pale with concern. It wasn’t just about Thorne’s actions against the Robbens—they feared what might come next. If a man of Thorne’s power could so easily topple a dukedom, what was stopping him from coming for their own houses?

Duke Harrick, an older noble with a stiff posture, spoke up next.

"We are not questioning General Thorne’s capabilities as a military leader. He has served this kingdom well on the battlefield. But we must consider the precedent this sets. If the nobility is no longer secure, if a military figure can move against us with impunity, then where does that leave the balance of power in the kingdom?"

A few nods and whispers of assent followed, but not all were convinced. Some had always viewed Thorne as a necessary force, a sword to wield in times of uncertainty. Others, however, saw him as a threat—an unpredictable man with too much influence and far too much ambition for their comfort.

The Crown Prince, who had been silent up until now, finally decided to speak. He leaned forward, his smile widening as he addressed the King.

"Father, the nobles raise a valid point," he said, his voice smooth and persuasive.

"General Thorne has proven himself invaluable on the battlefield, no one disputes that. But his influence has grown... disproportionate. His actions against the Robbens, while perhaps justified on the surface, signal a dangerous imbalance. One man—no matter how loyal—should not wield such unchecked power. It threatens the stability of the realm."

The King remained silent, his fingers steepled beneath his chin as he listened to the complaints. He was a man of few words, but when he spoke, his voice carried the weight of the kingdom itself. The Crown Prince, sensing an opening, pressed on.

"Perhaps, Father, it is time to reevaluate General Thorne’s position," the Crown Prince continued, his gaze sweeping across the room, making sure every noble was listening.

"No one man should be allowed to grow so bold as to believe he can challenge the authority of the nobility and, by extension, the Crown."

Duke Edrin seized the opportunity to continue his assault. "Exactly, Your Majesty! The Robbens Dukedom may have been flawed, but to tear it down completely? It was excessive. We fear that General Thorne’s ambitions may extend beyond his station."

The murmurs grew louder, and the atmosphere in the room became more heated. The nobles were feeding off each other’s fears, their suspicions festering into full-blown accusations.

Another noble, Viscountess Arla, spoke up, her voice sharp and pointed. "What’s next? Will General Thorne decide to root out every noble he deems unfit? Will we wake one day to find our estates taken, our titles stripped because he believes himself judge, jury, and executioner?"

The Crown Prince raised a hand, and the room quieted slightly, the nobles looking to him for direction. His smile had faded, replaced by a more serious expression. He turned to his father once more.

"Father, I believe it is in the best interest of the realm to remind General Thorne of his place. His loyalty is admirable, but even loyalty can become dangerous when paired with unchecked authority. For the sake of stability, we must ensure that the power remains balanced. Otherwise, we risk letting a single man dictate the fate of the nobility."

The King’s expression was inscrutable as he considered the words of his son and the nobles. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, he finally spoke, his voice deep and commanding.

"General Thorne has indeed grown in influence," the King said slowly, each word carefully measured. "His actions against the Robbens Dukedom were swift and decisive, perhaps too much so. However, I am not blind to the dangers of allowing a man to overreach his station."

He paused, his gaze sweeping the room, lingering on the anxious faces of the gathered nobles. "That being said," he continued, "I will not make any rash decisions. General Thorne is still a loyal servant of the Crown. But rest assured, I will take these concerns into consideration. The balance of power must be maintained."

The King’s words seemed to calm the room, though the underlying tension remained. The Crown Prince, however, wasn’t entirely satisfied. His eyes gleamed with the promise of further maneuvering, and he leaned back in his chair, contemplating his next move.

As the nobles began to murmur amongst themselves, discussing the King’s response, it was clear that the seeds of doubt had been planted. Thorne’s future, though not immediately threatened, had been cast into uncertainty. The nobles feared him, and the Crown Prince was more than willing to stoke those fears, all while wearing that ever-present smile.

The man who was the center of all this heated discussion, the cause of the nobles’ restless whispers and the Crown Prince’s veiled machinations, was entirely unaware of the political storm brewing around him. At that very moment, he was elsewhere, far removed from the opulent meeting chambers of the palace. He was in a quiet corner of the royal gardens, inside the serene greenhouse, enveloped by the soft fragrance of blooming flowers and the warmth of glass-filtered sunlight.

Thorne, the formidable general who had torn down a dukedom, the man whose name struck both fear and admiration in the hearts of those who spoke it, was not thinking of politics, power, or court intrigue. Instead, his thoughts were entirely focused on the figure before him—his husband, Noelle.

The greenhouse was Noelle’s sanctuary, a place where he felt at peace. It was filled with lush greenery, potted plants, and vibrant blossoms, the air heavy with the scent of earth and growth. In this space, there was no talk of battles or noble bloodlines, only the comforting presence of each other.

Noelle had prepared a simple but heartfelt meal, laying it out on a small table amidst the foliage. He was currently fussing over the dishes, making sure everything was just right, his movements efficient but graceful, as if the care he put into these small gestures was his way of conveying his love.

For a man like Thorne, who had spent his entire life in darkness , this kind of light, this kind of love, was both a revelation and a refuge.