Chapter 411: Minister Of War: Amon
What had begun as an awkward attempt to distract Damian from his own thoughts gradually became one of Rah’s favorite mornings in recent memory.
She found herself laughing far more than she expected.
Every unfamiliar ingredient earned a different expression from Damian. Sometimes he frowned suspiciously before taking a bite, only for his face to brighten in genuine surprise moments later. Other times he confidently sampled something only to immediately question why demons would ever think it belonged on a dining table. His reactions were so honest that she couldn’t stop herself from smiling.
The crowd surrounding the diner only made everything more amusing.
Every time Damian praised another dish, whispers rippled through the spectators as though they had just witnessed a historical event. Some demons even hurriedly wrote notes on parchment while others secretly pointed toward the sandwich still resting on his plate, perhaps intending to order the exact same breakfast later.
Most importantly, they were talking. Not discussing wars or strategies, just talking.
Back on Earth, Damian had spent nearly every waking moment chasing his dream of conquering earth. Every victory had only created another battle to prepare for, another enemy to defeat and another plan to complete. Even when he was physically with them, part of his mind had always been somewhere else.
For the first time in what felt like forever, he was simply present.
"So..." Damian said before tossing the final piece of his sandwich into his mouth. "What do you think is the worst part about me coming here?"
He chewed thoughtfully before lifting the large mug of thick chocolate drink. The rich liquid poured smoothly down his throat.
Its consistency reminded him of yogurt while its sweetness lingered pleasantly across his tongue. He couldn’t help smiling in satisfaction before placing the empty mug back onto the table.
Rah rested both elbows upon the table while giving the question genuine thought.
"I think...the worst part is that you’re the Prince."
She answered so naturally that Damian immediately looked toward her.
"Ruling a kingdom isn’t easy."
"The politics?" Damian asked, raising an eyebrow.
Rah nodded without hesitation.
"I’ve watched it happen enough times to know."
Her expression gradually became more serious.
"Even something as simple as family politics can tear people apart. Now imagine governing countless cities spread across enormous territories. Every race has different traditions. Every noble has different ambitions. Every merchant wants different laws. Every general has different opinions. You’re responsible for resources, taxes, trade, armies, justice, diplomacy and millions of lives."
She slowly shook her head.
"It never ends."
Damian leaned backward in his chair before absentmindedly folding one arm across his chest. He understood exactly what she meant.
And honestly, it bothered him.
His years on Earth had exposed him to enough history and enough modern politics to understand exactly what wearing a crown truly meant.
The throne looked glorious but the person sitting upon it rarely lived peacefully. Kings worried constantly about betrayal, succession, assassinations, ambitious nobles, rebellious provinces and many more.
In Damian’s opinion, becoming king had always sounded like one of the worst careers imaginable.
You gained absolute authority. In exchange, you sacrificed peace for the rest of your life.
Damian opened his mouth to continue the conversation but then, he stopped. The warmth disappeared from his expression and his purple eyes suddenly became frighteningly cold.
He slowly turned toward the gathered crowd and the spectators instinctively shuddered beneath his gaze.
For a brief moment they thought they had somehow offended him. Then they realized, he wasn’t looking at them.
The people standing behind them suddenly began hurriedly moving aside. Within moments a clear path opened through the crowded streets.
A magnificent carriage slowly rolled forward.
Unlike ordinary wagons, its body had been carved entirely from glossy black wood decorated with elegant violet engravings depicting foxes. Purple lanterns hung from each corner while expensive silk curtains concealed the interior.
Rather than horses, the carriage was pulled by a gigantic two headed serpent covered in emerald green scales. Every movement of the enormous creature caused the stone streets beneath it to tremble ever so slightly.
Six armored guards marched silently beside it. Their heavy black and violet armor completely concealed their bodies while dark hooded cloaks shadowed their faces.
The moment the carriage stopped, every demon throughout the street immediately fell to one knee. Heads lowered and eyes turned toward the ground.
Even the gigantic serpent bowed both heads respectfully.
"YOUR MAJESTY!"
Their united voices echoed across the street.
Clank.
The carriage door slowly swung open and a tall figure gracefully stepped onto the pavement. He possessed the elegant posture of an experienced nobleman and wore luxurious sapphire blue robes embroidered with golden patterns that flowed almost to the ground. His body appeared entirely human but his head belonged to an enormous owl.
Sharp azure eyes calmly surveyed the surroundings while a polished silver monocle rested over his left eye, giving him an oddly scholarly appearance.
Without sparing the crowd another glance, he walked directly toward Damian. His pace remained steady, neither hurried or hesitant.
Stopping roughly five meters away, the owl headed demon lowered himself onto one knee before bowing respectfully.
"Your Majesty," he said calmly. "I have come to escort you back to the palace."
Damian’s expression darkened even further. This was exactly the part of kingship he despised. The constant interruptions, formalities and reminders that every moment of his life now belonged to everyone else.
His gaze shifted toward Rah.
At some point she had stopped eating and smiling. She had even stood up without realizing it. Though her face remained composed, Damian caught the faint tension hidden behind her eyes.
That irritated him far more than the interruption itself.
Who exactly was this man that even Rah instinctively became cautious in his presence despite Damian sitting right beside her?
Damian returned his attention toward the kneeling figure.
"You are?"
The owl headed demon slowly raised his head and his gaze met Damian’s directly. There wasn’t the slightest trace of fear within those azure eyes.
"Your Majesty, You may call me Amon."
He placed one hand across his chest.
"Minister of War of Velmora."
Buzz!
Damian’s eyes widened in shock.