He slightly turned around, waiting for his general to answer his question. His man stood not far behind him, ready to protect him from any threat, one of his greatest warriors.
"No one had seen her or tracked her scent. Not even our best scouts had an idea where to look for her. She just vanished, believed to be protected by her family and the witches." General Saxon conveyed, his voice was still unwavering.
His eyes narrowed at the pictures that surrounded this hall. Histories of his past, telling different stories. He could not wait to add more to this collection of his future victories.
But he now realized that he would need his son and this girl to make this happen. He had to have his hand on this girl, a direct descendant of the great Alpha King Jackson.
The King turned to the opposite side of the room, looking at his younger self. It was his wedding portrait with his lovely wife, Queen Lucilla. The woman that changed his life forever.
"I want that girl brought to me alive once you find her." The King eyed his face, the young one, the naive one, easily deceived by beauty and love.
He would show all those proud werewolves that they were not the supreme specie on the face of this planet. He was more powerful and a lot stronger.
Those werewolves should bow to him and pledge their loyalty to him. But he knew that would never happen. He had no choice but to hunt them down and kill them all.
"Yes, Sir. I will send another set of our men to look for her." The general responded, but when he waved his hand, dismissing him. The man automatically moved away from him, out of his sight.
He strode again outside the castle, looking at his vast property. Instead of peace of mind, it only reminded him of his new enemy, the new Alpha King, Grego Dumont.
He hated to know that his enemies had flourished and enjoyed a comfortable life under his nose. Learning about the wolves' dominance in the different parts of the world made his blood boil. It was not acceptable.
He shifted his attention to his men, training on the field, and decided to join them. "You." He pointed to his soldier, holding a sharp sword. He could sense his slight hesitation. "Show me what you got." But he still stood tall.
The King stood in the middle of the circle, waiting for the soldier to attack him with his long deadly sword. He had seen him from his window earlier and was impressed with his swordsmanship.
"Yes, Your Majesty." The soldier immediately stepped into the ring, his earlier hesitation gone.
He moved his sword with precision, letting it glide gracefully and smoothly in the air. It was a tactic used to intimidate an opponent, but it would take more than a few simple tricks to make the King afraid.
"Stop with the artistry, attack me, and try your best to kill me." King Charles commanded as he kept his stance in the middle of the field, with his hands clutched behind his back, waiting for his opponent to strike.
Then, the other man lunged at him with his full might. Swinging his sword in full speed in his direction as his foot stepped closer to where he stood immobile.
When many of his men thought the tip of the sword would finally graze his skin, he swiftly slid back, dodging the attack. Once cleared, he quickly scanned his surrounding. He watched the faces of his soldiers, studying their reactions.
Then, another swing caught his eyes, evading it easily. With that, he saw an opening. As his man tried to recover from his miss, the King grabbed him by his neck and gripped him tight.
He knew he could kill this immortal man, but he still needed him, watching the man struggle under his hold. Finally, the soldier let go of his sword as his hands held on to his as he struggled to free himself while his feet dangled in the air.
"You did well." He uttered, still impressed that he even came close to striking him.
He still believed the soldier was skillful, but he might also be lacking the practice. It had been a while since he killed anyone with his bare hands. But he was looking forward to it soon.
"Learn from him." He told all his men who stood stationary in their positions, surrounding him in a circle.
He finally let go of his soldier. Despite being impaled for a few minutes, he remained standing, holding on to his reddened neck and catching his breath.
The King walked away from the training ground and returned to the castle. But before he could go back to his study, his eyes landed again on the portrait by the door.
The King turned his attention back to his wife, who had remained beautiful in his eyes, remembering how he had first laid eyes on her.
His eyes fixed on her when she stood in this very spot. She was so nervous that her lips quivered when she introduced herself to him. Her eyes were as green as the grass that surrounded the castle.
His hands automatically took her trembling hand and grazed it with his lips, loving how delicate her fingers were when he held them.
He knew then that she was perfect. He would do everything to make her the queen of his kingdom. He watched her back as she walked away from him, together with her parents, the King and Queen of Barsille.
But the night was still young, and the party had just started. He knew before the night ended that she would be his. He was King, and no one could say no to the King.
"Pardon, Your Majesty." General Saxon moved a few steps forward to gain his attention.
"What is it?" He asked, his reminiscing of his past slowly disappearing in a haze. But his eyes remained looking at the portrait of the woman who had stood by his side.
"A report just came in about a recent activity in the mansion." The general informed him while two of his men stood behind him.
"Go on." The King encouraged him to continue.
"Our informants believed that the werewolves and the witches are also preparing for war." The general stood straight in his place as his face remained impassive.
"So, it began." Instead of feeling fear, the thrill of war made his blood boil. He could not wait to get his hands on those beasts. "We will soon eliminate them all, those who killed my wife and our kinds." His men, who were near enough to hear him, nodded their heads and showed their agreement.
His eyes again focused on the young girl that had given him a son. Then his lips turned to a wide grin, briefly remembering some fond memories of his dear beloved wife.