Chapter 412: Olaf’s Request
Damian remained seated for several quiet moments, his violet eyes fixed upon the owl headed demon kneeling before him. Around them, the lively atmosphere that had filled the street only moments ago had completely disappeared.
Every demon in sight stared toward Amon with unmistakable fear written across their faces. Some instinctively lowered their heads the moment their eyes met his while others quietly retreated another few steps, as though merely standing too close to the Minister of War invited misfortune.
The reaction did not escape Damian. If anything, it unsettled him even more.
This wasn’t the respect reserved for an important official. It was fear. The sort of fear people only developed after years of subjugation.
’Be careful,’ Rah’s voice echoed quietly inside his mind. ’This Marquis has solidified his grip over the capital’s military during your absence. Most of Velmora’s generals answer to him before they answer to the throne. We’ve spent the last ten years trying to wrestle authority away from his faction, but we’ve made very little progress.’
Damian’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. A Marquis yet he was also the Minister of War.
No wonder everyone feared him.
Slowly, Damian pushed his chair backward before rising to his full height. His towering figure immediately cast a long shadow over the table.
He had only wanted breakfast but somehow politics had still found him.
’Thread carefully until we regain complete control of Velmora,’ Rin’s calm voice followed immediately through their mental link. ’The last thing we need is for the same tragedy that nearly destroyed Lin Qui to repeat itself here.’
Damian quietly exhaled. How could he forget the coup led by Hagrid. If a coup was organized against his predecessors then it can be done to him.
His annoyance remained as he faced Amon hut it no longer burned uncontrollably. Even his anger had become strangely distant after losing his human heart.
"Alright," Damian finally said. "But my meal still needs to be paid for."
The old diner owner immediately looked horrified.
"Your Majesty," he hurriedly interrupted. "Everything within this empire already belongs to you. There is no reason for you to pay an old man for breakfast."
Buzz!
A sharp blue light flashed behind Damian almost instantly the man spoke. It happened so quick no one saw it but Damain saw it perfectly.
Without warning, Amon’s amber eye glowed and a ripple of compressed energy exploded outward from his gaze before racing directly toward the elderly demon with terrifying speed.
"You senile wretch," Amon said coldly. "Who permitted you to speak in His Majesty’s presence?"
Swoosh!
Damian vanished. The next instant he appeared directly before the old demon. His arm casually swept through the air.
Boom!
The blue ripple split cleanly into two before detonating on either side of him.
The resulting shockwave blasted outward, overturning nearby tables and sending wooden chairs tumbling across the street. Several flower pots shattered while dishes crashed loudly against the stone pavement.
The crowd instinctively stumbled backward.
Dust slowly drifted through the air as Damian lowered his arm. His expression remained perfectly calm. Only the dangerous glint within his purple eyes betrayed what he was thinking.
"Did you just attempt to kill the man who fed me breakfast?" Damian asked quietly.
Amon never moved. He remained kneeling exactly where he was and his expression remained composed.
"Because he committed a crime," Amon answered without hesitation. "No mortal may address His Majesty without permission unless first granted the privilege to speak."
His tone never changed. To him It truly was nothing more than enforcing the law.
Damian stared silently at him.
"Well... It isn’t a crime anymore."
Amon calmly shook his head.
"That is not Your Majesty’s decision to make."
The words caused several nearby demons to instinctively inhale sharply.
"The Royal Court exists precisely so that even the sovereign governs through law rather than impulse."
Damian’s brows slowly furrowed. For several seconds he said nothing. Neither did Amon.
The entire street remained deathly silent. Not even whispers could be heard anymore.
Finally, Damian broke the silence as he looked toward the old diner owner.
"What’s your name?"
The elderly demon visibly flinched.
His eyes instinctively drifted toward Amon before nervously returning to Damian.
"Olaf... Your Majesty."
"And how much do I owe you for breakfast, Olaf?"
The old demon opened his mouth but hesitated. A struggle played across his aging face.
Instead of answering, he suddenly dropped to both knees. His forehead struck the stone pavement.
"Please, Sire this worthless old man has but one request." His voice trembled.
Damian blinked in surprise. He had expected a number, not this.
"What is it?"
Olaf repeatedly slammed his forehead against the ground.
"My only son was drafted into the army. I beg Your Majesty, please recall him. He is all I have left." His voice cracked.
Damian’s expression gradually changed. Pieces quietly fell into place. He wondered why the old man worked alone despite his age but just didn’t ask.
Now everything was beginning to make sense.
Damian slowly turned toward Amon and his gaze sharpened.
"What’s going on?"
Amon remained completely unmoved.
"Matters concerning military are too sensitive to discuss publicly. They will be addressed in the Royal Court." he answered evenly,
Damian inwardly clenched his fists.
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
At this moment, he wanted nothing more than to grab Amon by that expensive robe, tear the monocle from his face and send him flying through half the capital as an example to every official who believed titles placed them above common sense.
But, this wasn’t Earth. He knew almost nothing about the political landscape surrounding him. Acting recklessly now could easily cost him his life.
Damian slowly released the frustration building inside him.
"Then... We’ll discuss it in court." His voice became calm once again.
Amon simply inclined his head.
"As Your Majesty wishes."
Damian turned away from him.
With a gentle flick of one finger, Olaf’s kneeling body slowly rose from the ground until the old demon stood upright once again.
Damian placed a reassuring hand upon the old man’s shoulder.
"I’ll investigate this personally and if everything is as you’ve told me... I’ll bring your son home. You have my word." His voice carried quiet certainty.
Olaf’s eyes immediately filled with tears and his aged body trembled uncontrollably. Unable to restrain himself, he once again collapsed to his knees before repeatedly kowtowing.
"Thank you... Thank you, Your Majesty..."
Tears streamed freely down his wrinkled face.
Damian quietly glanced toward the surrounding crowd. Many demons had lowered their heads while others stared toward Olaf with complicated expressions.
Several elderly couples clutched each other’s hands and Mothers silently embraced their children.
The emotion reflected within their eyes told Damian everything he needed to know. Olaf wasn’t the only one. It was a wound shared throughout the capital.
Damian slowly reached out his hand.
"Let’s go."
Rah immediately placed her hand within his. Together, they walked past Amon without another word.
The Minister of War calmly rose to his feet before turning to follow several respectful paces behind.
The six Royal Guards simultaneously stood.
Their disciplined movements were perfectly synchronized as they immediately formed a protective ring around the royal carriage while one silently stepped forward and opened its polished black door.
Every soldier lowered his head as Damian approached and every citizen remained kneeling. The entire street stayed silent until Damian and Rah entered the carriage.
As the heavy door slowly closed behind him, Damian looked once more through the window at the people still bowing outside.
Despite everyone’s submissive nature towards him, he couldn’t shake the strange feeling growing within his chest.
This kingdom already felt like it belonged to someone else