Mated To The Cruel Prince novel Chapter 917

Chapter 917: Motivation Enough

Aldric and Issac walked through the camp, their destination the tent where the witches had been detained under Aldric’s orders. The cleansing and reorganization of the army had taken all day, and by the time they were finished, night had fallen upon them.

Even with Aldric’s dramatic show of power, there were still remnants of the general’s loyalists who had refused to comply and accept his reign. Luckily for them, they didn’t face death in Aldric’s hands but the soldiers who had dealt with them swiftly, else they would have met a more damning fate.

"You just made him captain of your army," Issac complained as he walked beside Aldric.

Aldric raised an eyebrow. "And what is the problem, Issac? Ahh, right..." He paused dramatically, as if a realization had just dawned on him. "General Issac, isn’t that correct? I believe congratulations are in order. Or perhaps... you don’t like the position? Oh, I see now. You’ve always been the humble one." His voice was mocking, filled with amusement. "Maybe Olean should take your place as commander, and you can have his position as captain. Then, you’d take orders from him. Would that resolve your concerns?"

Issac stopped walking and turned to glare at Aldric, his jaw clenched tightly. He knew Aldric’s taunts were intentionally meant to provoke him. However, it didn’t eliminate the fact that the dark Fae prince-turned-Regent-King would absolutely carry out such a ridiculous reshuffling if he so chose. After all, no one could predict Aldric’s mind.

Swallowing his irritation, Issac replied with as much poise as he could muster, though his tone was tinged with sarcasm. "I’m very much grateful for the opportunity, your majesty. But Olean is a foot soldier and knows nothing about being a captain. The position is too much for him."

Aldric halted abruptly, his piercing blue gaze locking onto Isaac with an unreadable expression. "If that’s the case," he said slowly, as if savoring his words, "then there’s no problem at all."

Issac blinked, confusion washing over him. "I don’t understand."

Aldric’s grin widened, and he clapped a hand on Issac’s shoulder in what could almost be mistaken for camaraderie. "Olean is a captain. You’re a general. Who’s in a better position to teach him how to do his job? Problem solved." Without waiting for a response, Aldric continued walking, leaving Issac standing there in stunned silence.

For a moment, Issac could only stare at Aldric’s retreating figure with a dumbfounded expression.

What kind of person was Aldric? Issac suddenly felt a deep sense of foreboding for the future of Astaria. With Aldric as king, the realm was in for a reign unlike any it had ever seen before.

Nonetheless, Issac followed Aldric into the tent. Inside of it, five soldiers stood in a tight formation, their swords poised at the necks of the three witches sitting in a circle. The witches were silent, but the youngest called Ava glared at Aldric with such intensity it was as if her will alone could strike him down.

Aldric, calm and composed, addressed the scene with a dismissive wave. "Put down your swords. There’s no need for that. Let’s treat our guests with a little more respect, we’re not wildlings."

The soldiers hesitated, with disbelief on their faces. The idea of leaving such cunning witches without immediate threat seemed reckless. They looked to Issac for confirmation, after all, he was their general now. But with a subtle nod, Issac gestured for them to comply. Reluctantly, the soldiers lowered their weapons and stepped back.

"There’s no need to look at me that way," Aldric added. "Nobody’s dying today, unless, of course, someone does something exceptionally stupid." His gaze lingered pointedly on Ava, whose glare didn’t waver but rather her fists clenched at her sides.

Mother Theresa, the eldest witch, caught the tension and quickly signaled to Ava with a subtle motion of her hand to back down. Ava obeyed, albeit reluctantly, sitting straighter but no longer radiating outright hostility.

Turning to Aldric, Mother Theresa spoke with a measured tone, her words dripping with diplomacy. "You’re most gracious, your majesty. I didn’t think you would forgive my offense."

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