Fallen General's Omega (BL)
Chapter 92: Delusions... Sorry I mean plotting

Chapter 92: Delusions... Sorry I mean plotting

The king and Count Raymond sat in the palace’s grand balcony, the cool breeze ruffling their robes as they idly played chess under the golden afternoon sun. The board between them gleamed, its silver and ebony pieces half-played, the weight of the match far less important than the conversation slowly brewing between the two. Nearby, discarded carelessly on the marble floor, was a crumpled newspaper, the headlines blaring a sensationalized story.

The front page depicted a grand image of General Thorne and his Omega husband, Noelle, leaving the opera house. The bold, exaggerated title read: "The Crimson General’s Husband, the Beauty of Ages: Hidden Away to Refuse the Hands of Royalty?" The article delved into scandalous gossip, pointing out how Thorne had refused numerous notable suitors for his Omega, including Prince Rolland and the capital’s most desired man, Oliver. It was an absurd piece meant to stir the masses, the kind of rumor that spread like wildfire in peaceful times when there was little else to occupy the attention of the public.

The king, his brow furrowed with annoyance, flicked his wrinkled fingers toward the paper. "All they do is gossip these days," he grumbled, moving a knight across the board with a deliberate hand.

"No notable news. Just idle talk of beauty contests and bedchambers. It sickens me."

Count Raymond, ever the dutiful advisor, chuckled softly though the sound was hollow. His eyes flicked over the chess pieces, assessing the situation with a keen mind honed for both strategy and intrigue.

"Such is the price of peace, my king," he said, leaning back slightly in his chair, his voice smooth and measured.

"When there is no war to fill their pages, the people turn to scandal for their entertainment."

The king’s lips tightened into a thin line, his weathered face deepening with lines of discontent.

"In my father’s day, they wouldn’t have dared print such nonsense." His voice carried a faint edge of bitterness, a memory of an era when fear kept the tongues of the populace in check.

Count Raymond’s smile faltered, though he hid it well. "The late king," he began carefully, his eyes shifting to his next move, "was not known for his mercy. The people feared him more than they respected him, and while he kept the throne secure, it was not without bloodshed." He paused, his hand hovering over a bishop. "But such fear does not last, my king. He will not be remembered kindly in the history books."

The king grunted in agreement, though he did not like to admit it. His father had been a brutal man, ruling with an iron fist that had kept enemies at bay but at a cost. The kingdom had been stable, yes, but only because it had been too frightened to be anything else. Now, in the absence of that fear, the people felt free to gossip and mock, their tongues looser than they should be.

He moved a pawn, his fingers slow, deliberate. "And now we are left with this," the king muttered, glancing again at the newspaper. "Stories of the Crimson General and his Omega, as though that is what matters in the running of the realm."

Count Raymond shifted slightly, his eyes darkening with thought. "Thorne has become a subject of fascination," he mused aloud.

"The war hero who defied expectations, the mysterious, stoic general with his equally mysterious mate. The people may gossip, but there is more than idle talk beneath their words." He looked up at the king, his tone growing more serious. "Thorne is a figure of power and influence, perhaps more than we anticipated."

The king’s eyes flickered, narrowing as he considered Raymond’s words. Thorne had been a loyal general, but loyalty could be fragile when power came into play. There were whispers, small at first, but growing louder. The people adored him, admired him even, and in a time of peace, admiration could turn into something far more dangerous.

"You believe Thorne poses a threat?" the king asked, his voice quiet but laced with an edge of suspicion.

Count Raymond moved his bishop with a calculated flourish, capturing one of the king’s knights. "In times of war, a hero is an asset," Raymond said smoothly, his tone almost too casual. "But in times of peace, heroes become symbols, and symbols have a way of rallying people." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "The people see Thorne as a legend, a man who has everything—power, beauty, loyalty. And with his Omega by his side, the fascination only grows."

The king’s jaw clenched, his eyes hardening. He had ruled long enough to understand that the adoration of the people could quickly turn into a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands. "You think he might challenge me?" he asked, his voice low, the words laden with doubt.

Raymond leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming with the sharpness of a blade.

"Not openly, perhaps. But power does not always need to be challenged directly. Thorne’s influence grows every day, and with stories like these circulating, the people might begin to wonder why they should follow a king when a hero walks among them."

The king felt a cold knot forming in his stomach. Thorne had always been loyal, but loyalty could be tested. And with Noelle by his side, an Omega who had captured the hearts of the people with his beauty and charm, it was not unthinkable that Thorne could rise beyond his station.

"We cannot allow this to continue," the king said, his voice resolute. "If the people see Thorne as a leader, they may start to question my rule."

The king sighed heavily, his wrinkled hand pressing down on his bishop as he made his next move.

"Thorne... he’s become too much of a distraction. The people talk more of his bedchamber than they do of my policies. His Omega, Noelle, is a beauty, I’ll admit, but this obsession the public has with their private life is a nuisance. It’s overshadowing the throne."

Count Raymond chuckled, though the sound was laced with something darker. His gaze lingered on the chessboard, but his thoughts were far more focused.

"A hero’s fall always begins with his desires, my king. Clearly, Thorne is a man controlled by his lower half. With how often he’s seen parading around with that Omega, it’s obvious where his priorities lie."

He paused, letting the words sink in, before adding, "Perhaps we can use that to our advantage."

The king raised a brow, intrigued. "How so?"

"Thorne refused the hands of Prince Rolland and Oliver," Count Raymond began, carefully picking his next words.

"But he didn’t refuse out of disinterest. No, he refused because he’s already entangled. The key here is simple: if Thorne won’t marry into the royal family willingly, we give him a reason to reconsider."

The king grunted, shifting uncomfortably. "He’s already refused. What makes you think he’ll change his mind now?"

"Ah, but that’s where we apply a little pressure," Raymond replied, his tone calm but laced with suggestion.

"No man is immune to the right persuasion, especially one already swayed by his desires. We create circumstances that make refusal... difficult. Imagine if a situation arose—one that required Thorne to reconsider his stance. Something that would force his hand."

The king drummed his fingers on the chessboard, considering. "And if that fails?"

"Then we send him where he can be of use to us, far from the capital and any potential distractions," Raymond suggested, moving a rook forward. "A reassignment to the battlefield. The borders always need strong leadership, and it’s far enough away that the people will soon forget his pretty Omega and his exploits in bed. The Crimson General can be a war hero again, out of sight and out of mind."

The king nodded slowly. "War has a way of changing men. Perhaps he’d return more malleable... or not at all."

A wicked smile tugged at the corners of Raymond’s lips. "Indeed. Either way, the problem solves itself. But first, we try the subtler approach. If we can make him our son-in-law, Thorne will be ours, bound to the throne not just by duty but by family. And if not..." His fingers tapped the chessboard. "Well, we’ll make sure the battlefield decides his fate."

The king finally smiled, a cruel edge to his expression. "Make the arrangements, Raymond. If we must control him, let’s do it. If he won’t bow willingly, we’ll make him kneel."

Raymond nodded, already planning his next move in this dangerous game of power. Thorne had no idea what was coming—while he indulged in his blissful moments with Noelle, forces far greater than gossip were already conspiring to ensnare him in a web he wouldn’t escape easily. The Crimson General, for all his

strength, was about to find himself cornered like a pawn on the chessboard.

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