Download Chereads APP
Chereads App StoreGoogle Play
Chereads

Beloved Tyrant

lay_translations
--
chs / week
--
NOT RATINGS
673.3k
Views
Synopsis
I took in a knight who was about to be executed for taking part in a rebellion as my s*ave. I tried to return his status as a noble and duke, but.. “Please do not refer to me as “sir”. I am not a knight. You needn’t speak formally to me either. I am not a noble.” “…….” “I am simply Your Highness’ s*ave.” Somehow, he is being strange.
VIEW MORE

Chapter 1 - Chapter 01

Translator: Lay

Raw Provider: Lay

i. Clown

It was the end of Winter before I knew it.

"What's your last word?"

"Laius Tantal! I will swear on you even after death!"

The execution continued. A cruel and boring time ensued. Aurest, who sipped the wine, asked kindly.

"Erin. You look bored. Won't you go in and take a rest?"

"My brother is so sweet." I slightly shook my head. "But it's okay. I'd like to keep in mind the end of the traitor who committed the outrage."

"If that's what you like then so."

Aurest beckoned the servant. The servant, who noticed the gesture, winked at the musicians waiting in the corner of the balcony. The performance has begun. As soon as the flute melody began, someone screamed over the balcony. The condemned criminal seemed to have caused a disturbance. The rut to come out then faltered.

"I wonder who hired that musician."

Aurest's voice had a clear tinge of hatred. The face of the lutist, who felt the end directly, was parched. The lute performance who missed the beat in front of the princess will be cut off before the end of the day. My heart was chilled. I leaned over Aurest's shoulder with a smile.

"They only made one mistake. It's a virtue to forgive one three times. Please forgive him only once."

"Who my sister takes after to be this kind?"

Aurest hugged my shoulder and pulled it into his arms. There was a heavy smell in his chest. There was also blood that would never be erased.

"But, Erin." Aurest pointed under the balcony. Executions were being executed under the balcony. They were the ones who planned the rebellion. "They only made one mistake. Should we give them a second chance?" I shook my head.

"Never. Two opportunities for traitors are a luxury."

"Yes, then should I give that performer two chances?"

You must weigh the crime of rebellion and mistake of a performan the same, Your Highness?

I wish I could relax my sarcasm like a court clown does. But I was not a clown, but a princess, and I should be as gentle as a maid.

''...I'm not sure.''

"Second chances aren't given. Everything is decided from the first place."

I closed my eyes and buried my face in Aurest's chest. Then Aurest clicked his tongue and patted my shoulder.

"But you're weak-minded, so you're a problem. If you're not feeling well,.."

Cutting hands is pitiful, so I think a slap is enough.

"The death penalty is a bit like that, so let's cut his hands off."

The flesh of the man above me is astonishing as the sun goes by. I want to be a little less surprised.

"Stop chatting and come here, both of you."

My father burned us with a narrow escape. The highlight of the execution has come. Aurest jumped up from his seat and strode to the railing of the Donnie balcony. I stood beside him too.

Four people were being dragged out of the cart. They were all members of the Rowenthal Duchy. The middle-aged woman at the front is Bathorlia Rowenthal, the Duchess of Rowenthal. Where did that stout woman go, and only a sick-faced death-rowning. That woman looks more like a dead body.

I made eye contact with the woman.

Her black eyes were burning like a falling comet. It was more brilliant because she was near on her head, and hotter because she was burned for life.

I paid a very short tribute to Batolia. This was all I could do.

Bathorlia's gaze turned from me to Aurest, then to my father. It did not take long for what was in the eyes of Bathorlia to turn into sharp hatred. If her eyes were a blade, my father would have been minced meat by now. And if it's a spear, hundreds of millions of the windows would have been stitched to death. If it was a wind, his body would have torn to pieces.

My father, torn and mutulated billion of times in her imagination, was still standing on the ground with the Emperor's suit on.

"Bathorlia Rowenthal. Beg." The supreme authority on the ground finally spoke. "Bring it on your knees. Tell me you're blinded by power and charged with treason. Tell me you regret everything you've done."

There was not even a trace of emotion felt in the low voice of the emperor.

"If you do so, who knows if I will be forgiving you for mercy?" But there were white joints and tendons on the back of the rough hand of the emperor who held onto the railing.

"Regret?" The cracked lips of Bathorlia Rowenthal, the Duchess of Rowenthal, flinched. "If you also have ears, listen. If I were given a second chance, I would burn everything for your ruin." Bathorlia was smiling. "If given a third chance, I will join hands with the devil for your destruction, and if given a fourth chance, I will sell the morals of the world for your destruction."

The whole words fell sharply like a lightning.

"Even if I lose all those attempts, I will never regret it."

The Rowenthal Duchy staged a revolt under the leadership of the Duke of Rowenthal. It was in accordance with the cause that the tyranny of the current emperor Laius and the violence of the Crown Prince Aurest cannot be seen anymore. Quite a few believed in the success of the revolt.

The public sentiment had long been against the emperor, and a number of aristocrats, who could never be ignored, sided with the Duke. And very few knew that there was also a lineal royal family who joined hands with the Duke of Rowenthal. But the rebellion failed.

The people shut their mouths at the edge of the sword, the nobles surrendered, and the Rowenthal Ducal House was due to end today.

I turned my eyes to those who stood behind Bathorlia.

The Duke of Rowenthal died in battle, so it was only the children of Bathorlia and the Duke of Rowenthal who stood before the scaffold. The blonde man with his left leg is the Duke's successor, and the black haired woman with her head sticking is second. And that man who has the most neat appearance.

He is the youngest son of Bathorlia, the most prominent longevity born to Rowentgal, the blue knight of Tantal, and the most noble sword of the eleven swords of Aurest.

During the Rowenthal revolt, Tristan Rowenthal was fighting to defend the Tantal border on the western front. He was not a traitor. He was just dragged out of the door when his family committed high treason.

Aurest held onto the railing as if he wanted to see the end of Tristan a little closer, and pushed his upper body into the front. I want to push his back. If he fall from the height of the second floor, I'll have to watch something funny, let alone die. Then I'll be broken by the angry Aurest.

That was how it was for a princess who only had shallow favor that could be lost at any moment.

So I cooperated with the Duke of Rowenthal. According to plan, it was my father and brother who were there, and the members of the Rowenthal Duchy should be here.

And by now I should had to warm my horse to the southeast coast smiling as the sky was gone. But the rebellion failed. The Rowenthal's are all going to die today.

We failed.

I will have to live against my father and brother for the rest of my life so as not to be "in such words."

We failed.

Did we fail?

No.

The only ones who failed was the Rowenthal's.

I didn't fail.

No second chance was given to the people of Rowenthal who will die today.

But Erin Tantal, who will still be alive tomorrow, will be given a second chance.

Think about it.

Think of a way to kill Laius Tantal and Aurest Tantal.

Think of a way not to greet such a words.