The Tyrant's Pet

Meanwhile…

Inside a private lounge in an establishment situated closest to the outskirt of the capital, a group of angry men sat around the oval oak table. On the far end was Ismael wearing an ugly frown as he listened to the men's endless war of words regarding Joaquin's scheme.

"Enough!" he slammed his palm against the table when he had enough of this squabble. "Debating endlessly will not resolve the problem. The incident today is a mere display of power since His Majesty hadn't been involving himself in the court to focus on his health. However, it is undeniable that the crown prince had finally plucked out his courage to take out those who threaten his power."

Ismael huffed as his eyes darkened. "Whatever scheme he concocted, I'll make sure he will never have the last laugh."

"Your Highness, for the crown prince to have such confidence, I'm certain he was absolute he could take you down —"

SLAM!

"Take me down?" Ismael scorned after slamming the bottom of his fist once again, contempt filling his eyes as they gloss over the faces of the men in civilian attire sitting around the oval table. "I had persisted and challenged him head-on all these years, and you're telling me he will take me down in a single night? Are you saying I, the third prince, am incapable and thus, had no means to stand tall with what I had been fighting for?!"

The noblemen, who had been supporting the third prince and were rooting for him from the start, lowered their heads. Silence subsequently descended upon the private lounge, which had been their secret meeting place whenever an important incident was needed to be discussed.

They couldn't do it within the palace, even in the Jade Palace where the third prince's quarters were at. The walls in the imperial palace were thin, or rather, there wasn't a single person to be trusted in that place as people's hearts were fickle and therefore easily switches sides to whoever they could benefit the most.

"I'm certain that isn't what the minister means, Your Highness." Carlos, the eighth prince, who was also Ismael's closest brother, frowned. "Everyone who is gathered and attended tonight's meeting…" his eyes travel across the table, counting the vacant seats in his head before his eyes settled on Ismael.

"… are simply concerned about your well-being. It is no secret that no lengths will stop the crown prince from achieving what he wants. Right now, these vacant seats were proof that his subtle declaration can sway people's determination in a snap of a finger."

"Those who didn't attend tonight and came up with their petty excuse of not being available will regret this." Ismael seethed, knowing the numbers in this room were half than usual. He had seen this coming. After all, not many of them really shared the same ideals as his.

"Until now, that damn crown prince had basked in the glory of my late brother, living the life that wasn't his in the first place. I will never let him steal my life or my other brothers'."

His eyes glinted as the silence thickened. Everyone was aware that Ismael and the late crown prince, the firstborn, had a really close relationship. Hence, when the latter perished, it devastated the third prince more than any of the princes and princesses.

Although the case was already considered closed, Ismael still believed deep in his heart that Joaquin had something to do with the death of the previous crown prince. He had all the reason since the person who benefited the most was Joaquin, and when confronted privately, the man in question admitted it himself.

Joaquin admitted it right in front of Ismael, back when they were still teens.

Just the memory of it still sends a shiver down his spine, but more than the dread of Joaquin's sneer when he confessed, the fury within Ismael blazed wildly. No matter how loud he spoke the truth, no one believed him and at one point, he was considered the one who was greedy for power since it would be his turn if Joaquin was gone.

The harsh reality beat him to a pulp, it changed him forever.

A lie would become the truth if it came from a credible man, and the truth would become just a mere noise if spoken by a fool. It was all a matter of deliverance and the speaker.

He worked hard and rose in power enough to give a balance between authority, all for the sake of stopping Joaquin's madness. So whatever Joaquin would throw at him, come what may, he would face them head-on and would stand victorious.

"We had gathered enough evidence to put him on trial and prove his involvement in the illegal businesses across the empire. Now's the time to reveal that the man who was about to sit on the throne will bring nothing but suffering to the people of the Maganti Empire." Ismael raised his eyes at the faces, looking back at him. "War is what he wants, so be it. I'm also sick and tired of putting up with him."

"Tonight… it's either him or me," he added.

Everyone gathered around the table remained silent as they snuck each other a look. They shifted their attention to the quiet fourth prince Enrique when the man spoke.

"It's either him or us," Enrique corrected. "I stand with you, brother. Having him have full control in the matters of the imperial court now, of all times, is something we mustn't let happen."

"I can imagine myself being thrown out to the lowest of the low once he succeeds," Carlos, the eighth prince, added while scratching the back of his head.

After the other princes' remarks, the other noblemen also voiced their thoughts. They were on the same boat, and if Ismael fell… every single one of them who sided with him until now, their families, and everything, would also go down. They had to survive what was to come their way.

Cornered dogs usually bark and resorted to baring their teeth… and that was the mistake these men were about to make. And every player of this game — the strongest down to the silent ones — had been waiting for this mistake to happen.

The only question was… who would win this round?

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