Chapter 331: The Children Who Wouldn’t Stop Talking
Chapter 331: The Children Who Wouldn’t Stop Talking
Meanwhile, in the Kitsunegawa Territory, the evening was unfolding in a very different manner.
The sitting room was warm and inviting, decorated with soft silk cushions and low wooden tables carved with intricate fox patterns. Lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting a gentle golden glow across the space, and the scent of sandalwood incense drifted through the air.
Zayrion and Aziren were seated on the floor, surrounded by cushions, their voices overlapping as they recounted their adventures. Zayrion’s parents, Aurelixa and Xaleron, were present, but only Aziren’s mother had arrived. Ysera was lounging on a large cushion, her eight tails spread out behind her like a fan of fire-tipped silk, her expression calm and slightly amused as she listened to her son speak.
"He was so cool," Aziren said, his flames dancing with excitement. "The King was sooo cool. He carried us with his shadows, and the shadows made snacks and mountains and fire. And he let us play with them. He didn’t even get annoyed."
He paused, then scrunched up his face.
"Well... maybe a little. But he still let us play."
Zayrion nodded vigorously, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose as he adjusted them.
"The King is amazing," he said. "He’s awesome."
He paused, then nodded to himself after what appeared to be a very serious conversation with... himself.
"Yep. I wanna be like him when I grow up."
Xaleron, who had been sipping tea, almost spat it out.
He coughed violently.
Aziren turned to him in alarm.
"Uncle, are you okay?"
Xaleron waved a hand, still coughing, before finally regaining his composure.
Then he looked at Zayrion.
"You want to be like the King when you grow up?" he asked.
Zayrion nodded without hesitation.
"Me too!" Aziren chimed in excitedly.
Xaleron rubbed his forehead.
"What exactly do you like about the King?" he asked, frustration creeping into his voice.
He genuinely could not understand what had these children so obsessed with the...
...well, perhaps he could.
The King, as terrifying as he was, was quite the demon to look up to.
Zayrion’s eyes lit up at his father’s question.
"Everything!" he declared happily.
Xaleron paused and slowly turned to look at his wife.
Aurelixa simply shook her head, her expression clearly telling him not to involve her.
He turned to Ysera instead, hoping she had an explanation.
She merely sighed softly, her tails swaying behind her as she looked at the children with equal parts amusement and concern.
"You don’t like the Queen?" she asked. "Only the King?"
"We like the Queen too!" Aziren said quickly, his flames flickering brighter. "She’s my bestest friend."
Zayrion nodded.
"She’s not my bestest friend..." he corrected seriously. "But I like her lots."
Aziren nodded enthusiastically.
"I really wanna be like the King when I grow up," he declared. "I wanna have shadows and be super strong like him. And I wanna be cool too."
Ysera sighed again, this time much more deeply.
"I doubt your father would love hearing that," she muttered under her breath.
Aziren looked at Zayrion.
Zayrion shrugged.
There was a brief silence before Aziren spoke again.
"Can we go again?" he asked hopefully. "Can we go on another outing with the Queen and the King?"
Aurelixa’s fox ears twitched slightly.
"Only if you’re on your best behaviour," she said, her voice carrying a note of warning.
Aziren and Zayrion exchanged glances.
"We’ll be good," Zayrion promised solemnly.
"We promise!" Aziren added, nodding so hard that his flames bounced.
Xaleron and Aurelixa exchanged a look of their own.
It was the look of two parents who had heard that exact promise far too many times.
Meanwhile, deep in the Golemhold Territory, the evening was taking a very different form.
Brixton sat on the floor of his home, sweat pouring down his face. His father, Draven, sat beside him, equally drenched. They had just returned from a run—yes, for some odd reason, they had gone running at night. It was one of those strange traditions that Brixton had grown up with, a bonding ritual that he secretly treasured.
The Golemhold Territory was known for its towering stone structures and rocky terrain, and running through it at night was both exhilarating and exhausting. Brixton’s chest heaved as he caught his breath, but his eyes were bright and his smile was wide.
"How was the outing?" Draven asked. "Did you have as much fun as you hoped?"
Brixton’s smile somehow grew even wider.
"It was awesome!" he said. "The King is so handsome. Like... really, really handsome."
Draven blinked.
Brixton continued before his father could say a word.
"Every dress he tried on looked perfect. Every single one! And he carried us with his shadows. We got to play with them too! And the Queen is really nice and pretty and beautiful... and scary too. She’s like... a nice scary."
He nodded proudly.
"And I helped dress her too."
Draven chuckled.
"Everyone knows the Queen is pretty and beautiful... and perhaps a little scary."
Brixton smiled.
"But you helped dress her?" Draven asked.
"I did!" Brixton said proudly. "And every dress she wore was pretty. And the King too. He’s really handsome. We went to a clothing store, and the fox demons there are really, really good at making clothes. Every outfit the King wore fit him perfectly. The colours looked nice on him. And the fabric was sooo soft."
Brixton continued talking, his voice rising with excitement as he described every little detail of the outing. He talked about the clothes, the shadows, the snacks, the other children, and the way the King had smiled at the Queen. His hands waved wildly through the air, his face glowing with excitement as he relived every moment.
Draven simply smiled as he listened.
He didn’t understand anything about seams, tailoring, or fabrics. He knew far more about war strategies than fashion. But he didn’t care.
All that mattered was that his son—his shy, reserved son—was speaking with so much warmth.
It was a rare gift, and Draven treasured every moment of it.