Chapter 267: Side Story 7: Protect The Future

Alfred sat with his back against the wall, watching his children interact for the first time. He had debated about it, but eventually, he decided on it. No matter what he or Isra thought about his children, they still were siblings. They needed to interact, or he couldn’t imagine what would happen in the future.

Looking to his left, he saw Frida taking peeks at Abu, watching with a gentle gaze. "It’s rude what you are doing," Alfred said coldly, freezing the woman. Meekishly looking to the ground, she half smiled.

"Why is he so... dark?" The question stunned Alfred, but thinking about it made sense. If her home was anything like his old world, then the only people she would have ever seen were white.

Shrugging, he looked back down at Edward. "Maybe God loves him more." Hearing Frida’s ’huh’ and watching her fall into thought, he couldn’t tell if she was trying to look deeper into his joke. "How are the children?" Forcing her to refocus, Frida’s expression slightly lit up.

"They need someone to feed them. Whilst they drink what is given, they don’t like it, and I can’t do it. I tried."

"I will arrange something." Alfred sighed and scratched the back of his head. "But it’s not what I meant. I mean... are they treated with respect."

"Are you worried, Your Majesty?"

Alfred glared at her, causing Frida to sink her neck slightly. "No matter what I feel about them, they are still my children, even if they are bastards. To slight them is to spit on my name."

"Of course." Frida paused and fell into thought. Looking at them, she couldn’t help but wonder. "I don’t think so. The others here don’t interact with them. And that woman who stays with them, although kinda scary, does help out when things get too hard."

"Violette." Alfred looked at Abu and remembered the auction house. Gently smiling, he thought of a time when things felt easier. Even though he had his own troubles then, it didn’t feel as hectic as it had become now. "That is fine then."

Firda nodded and looked at the children. Opening and closing her mouth, she pumped her fist to hype herself. "Your Majesty," Alfred looked back down at her. "The man you have teaching me, Halfdan. He said something strange." Seeing out the corner of her eyes, Alfred dangerously squinted. She wanted to stop herself from talking but didn’t, so she took a breath. "Do you hate us?"

Scoffing, he shook his head. "Him. Don’t listen to that man other than when learning the language. He is a rat who desperately crawls into the nearest pit of filth. Everything he does, he does so he can survive one more day."

"So why do you keep him? Why do you keep me around?" It had been something eating away at her. She saw how Alfred killed everyone who came to his Empire with her. Why had she been allowed to live? What purpose did it play?

Alfred looked at her and smiled, but it was obviously fake. "Whilst part of it is pity, the main thing is you have no allegiances in the Palace, no outside noble, no member of my council. You are alone, and most importantly, your well-being completely depends on me. As for Halfdan, that was Esmond’s fault. While he has a use now, I don’t know how long I will keep him alive."

"So I am prisoner then," Frida said sadly, feeling nothing had changed much from her time in Helga’s camp, but Alfred chuckled and shook his head.

"If you want to look at it like that, go ahead. But you are free to leave if you want. I won’t stop you. But if you do, you can never come back. If you tried, my guards would kill you before you knew it."

"I can’t leave. We both know that." Bitterly smiling at the reality of the situation, she watched the children play. It was her first time seeing Edward and seeing the boy’s legs covered in a small blanket; she finally understood what everyone meant by a cripple. It was a stark reminder of the world she was in now. Had she been home, she knew without a doubt the boy would have been left to die, even if their father was a powerful King.

The children looked up at Edward on his chair and smiled trying to get closer to him, only being stopped at the last minute by Daisy or Violette before they could grab his legs. It was a peaceful sight for everyone in the room.

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Isra looked out the window of her room at the garden. Her eyes had a deep chill in them as she gently glided her finger over the glass. A knock on the door was followed by a servant walking in with a young man behind her. "Your Majesty. Horace Underwell has arrived." Isra looked into the glass at the reflection and watched as the servant left the two alone.

"It’s a surprise you called for me," Horace said casually, giving her a bow and taking his seat. Isra smailed and took one before him. Grabbing a jug of water, she held it over his glass, with Horace quickly covering his hand over it. "Forgive me, it’s nothing personal."

Isra dryly chuckled and filled her own glass. "The Underwells are all the same. So distrustful." Taking a sip, she looked at Horace and flashed a smile, making the man sigh and pour his own glass.

"You understand why. We have many enemies, and from what I heard, you do not like my father."

"For good reason, but my dislike for him doesn’t extend to you, Horace. Well, depending on how you answer." Leaning forward, a deep chill filled her eyes once more. "Whose dog are you?"

Horace smirked at her question. He didn’t find it insulting to be called a dog; they were the most loyal companion. Leaning forward, he returned an equally cold look. "His Majesty the Emporers."

Smiling, she carried on. "Whose else?" This time, Horace was confused, trying to understand what Isra wanted.

"The Empire’s. His Majesty is the Empire and the Empire his Majesty."

"Of course. But you see. Your father had a strange way of saying that. There is only one future for the Empire, and he seems to have forgotten that."

"The Crown Prince." Finally understanding what Isra was talking about, he leaned back into his chair and took a sip of water. "Of course, my loyalties are extended to him. His safety is paramount to the future."

"So, I have one thing to ask. Help me? Help me set up a network for him. In the future, we both know that the vultures will begin to move around the bastards. Even now, it feels like people are forgetting that important information. They are bastards. They have no claim to the throne."

"Your Majesty." Horace felt slightly conflicted. "Did you know that my father didn’t move to protect His Majesty when he first died? It was because leaving the throne in the hands of a child was a dangerous bet."

"Are you saying my son is too dangerous to support?"

"Of course not. I’m saying I can’t only support one Imperial child. The other two may be bastards, but what if they are not one day."

"Don’t," Isra said dangerously as she looked at him. Horace nodded and apologised, realising he may have said too much. "I understand my son is a cripple. I can try my best not to, but I will always know Horace. That is why I am asking you for this. He needs support, he will always be at a disadvantage."

Isra could see it wasn’t working. The man and, by extension, all Underwells as a family lacked Compassion. She knew they had to discard it to do what they do, but she couldn’t help but wish Horace had even an ounce of it right now.

Taking a deep breath, she changed her strategy. She couldn’t be the only one to defend Edward. She needed allies; the quicker, the better. She couldn’t rely on a foreign marriage. It hurt to think, but she couldn’t rely on Alfred either. He was an emporer, which meant if it came to it, he would have to make the hard choice. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

"If my son takes the throne, what do you think people will think, Horace?" Looking at Isra, Horace closed his eyes and fell into thought.

"Can I speak freely?" Isra gave him a nod, and looking at her, he spoke. "The Empire will crumble. How can they let a cripple take the throne when two healthy children exist. Outside of it, all will say now is the chance to strike."

"Exactly," Isra said hatefully. "Everyone will think my son will lead to its destruction. And that’s why he is perfect." The boldness in her claim was shocking. Horace could see that Isra was deeply troubled by her son’s disability. It was natural. He tried to think why she would claim that, and looking at her, his eyes flashed with a light shine. Isra smiled, realising he caught on and nodded.

"All will underestimate him. No one can take a cripple seriously. It is the nature of this filthy world. He can prove he is better than everyone, and it will mean nothing. ’He got lucky.’ It’s all they will say. But that won’t be it. I can make my son the finest ruler the world has ever known. But he can’t do that as a child. He needs protection. I need your help, Horace."

Horace chuckled, looking at Isra. He could see she meant every word and found himself enjoying the idea. It made sense. He had seen the desperate and discarded claw their way up to the top. Adrian was a perfect example. He came from nothing and was filled with pure hate. He was desperate and eventually helped overthrow a Kingdom.

But he also knew what it would require. "You understand what it means your son has to become. Maybe he could be a good person and win the world over with kindness if he was normal, but he’s not."

Isra fell into thought, but looking into his eyes, she had a strong conviction. "There is no other way. I will do anything for him."

Horace stood up and looked at Isra. Falling to his knee, he smiled. "I’ll help you. But if I believe he can’t do it, I will act for the EMpire’s best interest."

It was enough. Isra knew it was best she would get and got up and walked over to Horace. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she smiled. "We have time."