Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 160: The Royal Ritual.

Chapter 160: The Royal Ritual.

Dusk.

Grounds, Royal Citadel.

Critic Citadel, Critic-Ishire.

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The grounds of the ancient castle stirred with anticipation as two figures emerged in the early morning light, their footsteps echoing against the stone walls.

The king, his crimson cloak billowed behind him, as he strode purposefully alongside his brother, Theodore, whose sky-blue eyes glinted with wrath.

Both men bore a striking resemblance, with locks of gold cascading over their broad shoulders, yet their eyes betrayed their differences, the king’s a fiery red, Theodore’s a tranquil blue.

"You came" Salvatore rasped.

Without turning to him Theodore questioned him. "What game are you playing now?"

"Acknowledging my brother’s game?" Salvatore shrugged.

"Salvatore you should have outgrown being a pest" Theodore let out, his eyes stern.

"And you are correct, I am not a pest anymore, I own the kingdom" Salvatore.

Theodore scoffed, "It does appear as though you no longer watch it"

"You cannot exactly threaten a king, Theo" Salvatore reminded.

As they reached the center of the training ground, tension crackled in the air like static electricity, a silent acknowledgment of the rivalry that simmered beneath the surface of emotionless facade.

"That maid you let go tried to kill my wife because of you" Theodore gritted out.

They stood face to face, their expressions masks of concentration, ready to engage in the timeless dance of combat.

"I did not remember her" Salvatore confessed.

"They never do" Theodore breathed out.

Theodore, with his years of battlefield experience etched into every sinew of his being, moved with a fluid grace that belied his strength.

"Those who do evil, do it effortlessly, without recognition or regrets, they hurt and destroy and with little to no effort they forget" he continued.

Theodore circled his brother like a predator, his movements precise and calculated, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

"After leaving a permanent scar on and in their victim, they then manage to also lose the memory of being evil, they continue to live their lives whilst those who were hurt become, incensed, vengeful, and dark" his speech made Salvatore wonder what has happened to have given Theodore the experience he spoke so knowledgeable of.

"They are seen as the monsters, Salvatore, but they are not entirely, Those who forget should be reminded, do you not think so?". Silence.

As Theodore stopping circling him and presented the king with question, the area seem to stand still, Salvatore was fueled by a fierce determination to prove himself worthy of his crown, he squared his shoulders and met Theodore’s gaze head-on.

Though he was less experienced, he possessed a raw talent and an unyielding spirit that burned brightly within him.

"I am not evil, I merely have desires" Salvatore claimed.

"You are a hypocrite, Salvatore" Theodore geowled.

Without another word, the duel began, the clash of steel against steel ringing out like a battle hymn.

Theodore’s movements were lightning-fast, his strikes coming from unexpected angles with deadly accuracy.

But the king, fueled by adrenaline and the weight of his responsibilities, met each blow with unwavering resolve, his own sword flashing in the morning light.

As the duel raged on, the brothers danced across the training ground in a symphony of steel and sweat, their breath coming in ragged gasps.

Each parry, each feint, was a testament to their skill and determination, a silent challenge that neither was willing to lose.

Despite Theodore’s superior speed and experience, the king refused to yield, his every movement a testament to his growing prowess on the battlefield.

The guards and knights have gathered and we’re watching curiously, it had been a while since this two had such and they had laid a bet on this fight.

With each clash of their swords, the tension between them mounted, a silent battle of wills that mirrored the one being fought with steel.

And then, in a flash of movement too quick for the eye to follow, Theodore saw his opening.

With a swift and decisive strike, he disarmed his brother, sending Salvatore’s sword clattering to the ground.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as the brothers stood locked in a silent tableau, their chests heaving with exertion.

And then, without a word, Salvatore offered his hand in a gesture of respect, acknowledging his brother’s victory.

But Theodore wanted none of it.

As they walked off the training ground, their rivalry refreshed by the duel, the sun began to rise over the castle walls, casting a golden glow over the ancient stones.

"Why do you take them to the slave establishment?" he asked.

Salvatore paused in his steps at that question, he met Theodore’s eyes as he fessed up.

"Well because if you take them to a crime prison you shall need an explanation but in the slave establishment they would be welcomed with a smile no questions asked" and he resumed his steps.

"That was an aldermans daughter, I wonder how many more you have destroyed" Theodore breathed, fury bleeding into his words.

"I do not see why this concerns you" Salvatore said nonchalantly, he tossed his hair.

"Exactly!" Theodore snarled, his hair bouncing.

"It would not if you were not going around looking for girls that looked like my wife!"

Theodore took dangerously slow steps towards Salvatore, "I am not going to ask, what is wrong with you but if you ever" he started and as Salvatore tried to speak, Theodore cornered him into a wall. "Ever, in this pathetic life of yours, commit strocities with Lydia’s names on your kids or your head,"

Theodore’s voice lowered dangerously. "You shall be dead" he promised.

Salvatore gulped.

"Do not tempt, me" Theodore pushed off him and headed for the chambers.

And though they may walk like partners leaving the grounds after a friendly duel, Salvatire knew blood relation didn’t mean Theodore accepted him.

*

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Morning.

Bedroom, Royal Citadel.

Critic-Citadel, Critic-Ishire.

******************

"Miss Lydia"

Lydia’s eyes squinted open, her brows creased, her eyes burn as she tried to resist the urge to shut them back.

"Miss Lydia, it is time for your bath" the head maid alerted.

Lydia woke up startled and confused. "How... what is -" Sandra cut her off sharply.

"Get up you lazy slug, if you desire to seduce a prince you shall need to take care of yourself" Sandra scornfully gave her piece of advice, Lydia turned to her.

"Good morning Miss Sandra" Lydia breathed politely, her arms coming to cover her self, she could not believe they had intruded her privacy this early with respect or permission. And where was Theodore?

"Miss Sandra?!" Sandra yelled, livid brutality liquid on her tongue.

She took a few angry steps towards Lydia and in a blink of an eye she grabbed a handful of her hair into her viscious palm, she pulled it backwards making Lydia’s neck stretch and she was soon staring straight into the king’s mothers angry brown eyes.

"I am the king’s mother and you shall address me as Queen mother’ she groaned in frustration, releasing Lydia’s hair to have her scoot away quickly her eyes wide in shock. "Despite how I would hate the word mother coming out of your filthy mouth to ne, I would have to make do" she sat on the slowly becoming pale looking Lydia.

"Are we clear?" Sandra prompted.

But, Lydia only clenched her teeth, stubbornness from a bottom she didn’t know existed emerged. She would not reply, Sandra either release her or they shall be no end to this.

But of course Sandra had better plans so she let the girl go not without an angry tug.

Lydia quickly arranged her dress before looking around, the maids held her gaze and they weren’t looking nice.

"Where is Theodore?" she whispered, her question to no one and everyone.

Sandra moved slightly away from the bed. "Theodore is away from the filthiness that is you, get up" she screeched an order.

Lydia felt hurt by the streams of insults but she wouldn’t let Sandta win. "I will wait for him, I am in no rush to come out" she retorted.

"I have no concerns for what you desire, you shall come out now and that is final" Sandra countered after a roll of her eyes.

Lydia’s eyes widened before she started. "I...-"

"Drag her out!" Sandra ordered mercilessly and immediately the maids were closing in on Lydia.

"Wait!, I will leave the bed" Lydia announced panic dripping from her voice, her arms were stretched out in a gesture for them to stop.

She stepped out of bed, the bedspread and her warmth falling behind, she stood in the middle of the room in her nightdress like a goat beaten and soked by the rain.

"To the bathroom" Sandra pointed, she was already fully, and primly dressed, her hair in an updo befiting of the royals, one she claimed to be but never was.

Lydia gulped, irritation and nervousness skyrocketing in her. "I can bathe alone" she replied.

Sandra scoffed. "I have wondered why you look so unkept" she countered. "You bathe your self, but not anymore" she continued.

"You shall be bathed by the handmaidens and I shall watch" Sandra insisted, her smirk barely concealed.