Reborn I Refuse To Save The Traitors (Margaery) novel Chapter 168

**TITLE: Whispers Shape Distant Tomorrows by Aren Cole Vale**

**Chapter 168**

For two decades, the King had held dominion over the court, but his ascent was not merely a product of the ministers’ recommendations or the whims of fate. No, his throne was forged in the crucible of chaos and bloodshed, a testament to his relentless pursuit of power. He had followed in the footsteps of the late emperor, navigating through torrents of conflict and the aftermath of storms, vanquishing foes on the battlefield, traversing vast distances alone, and engaging in sharp-witted exchanges with hostile envoys. What feats had he not accomplished in his relentless quest for the crown?

Even now, as he surveyed the unfolding drama within the Hadley family, a flicker of insight ignited in his mind. If he were truly oblivious to the subtle machinations at play, then perhaps the esteemed reputation of the Eastvale Empire’s Martial King would rightfully diminish.

With a derisive snort, his gaze shifted towards Alicia and Sutherland, who stood before him, their expressions a mixture of anxiety and anticipation.

“Since you both appear to be so deeply remorseful and have demonstrated commendable filial piety,” he declared, his voice steady and authoritative, “from this day forth, you shall both go to the Hadley family and observe a period of mourning for Sophia that will span forty-nine days. This is to provide solace to her spirit in the afterlife.”

A wave of shock washed over Marcus, his eyes widening in disbelief as he stared at the King. “Father, what do you mean by that?” he stammered, confusion etched across his face. Just moments ago, he had wept and expressed regret over his grandmother’s passing, but could such theatrics be taken at face value?

The King, however, was not blind to the true intentions lurking beneath the surface of Alicia and Marcus’s facade. He chose to play along, deliberately avoiding any mention of their ambition to seize the throne, instead opting for a more subtle form of punishment—house arrest.

“I believe it is fitting that as one of the four consorts and a prince, when you err, you ought to exemplify what it means to be dutiful and respectful,” he continued, his tone unwavering. “Thus, starting today, you will both proceed to the Hadley family and observe mourning for Sophia for forty-nine days. We shall reconvene to discuss matters further once this period has concluded.”

Raising his hand, he summoned Oswald, who emerged from behind a screen, his white hair a stark contrast to the darkened chamber. “I shall faithfully execute His Majesty’s orders and accompany Lady Alicia and Prince Marcus during their mourning for the esteemed Old Madam of the Hadley family,” he announced with a bow.

As he approached Alicia and Marcus, the weight of the situation settled heavily upon them. “Lady Alicia, Prince Marcus, please follow me,” he urged, his voice steady.

Alicia and Marcus exchanged bewildered glances, their minds racing. They had anticipated a stern reprimand upon their return today, perhaps even a sentence of confinement for Alicia in the cold palace. Yet, this unexpected decree of mourning had taken them completely off guard.

Caught in a whirlwind of emotions, they could only nod in acquiescence before departing for the Hadley family that very night, their hearts heavy with uncertainty.

In the aftermath, the King summoned Raul into his presence. Raul had been grappling with exhaustion for days, old wounds exacerbated by new ones, and after lingering outside for nearly two hours, he felt on the brink of collapse.

Upon entering the chamber, he immediately knelt, bowing his head low. “This minister greets the King!” he proclaimed, his voice tinged with weariness.

The King’s gaze settled upon Raul, and he remarked lightly, “Chancellor, you seem to be quite overwhelmed of late. You look rather fatigued.”

Raul remained silent, acutely aware of the truth in the King’s observation. Having served as Chancellor for nearly a decade, he occupied a position just below the King himself, yet he had never truly grasped the complexities of the man who now sat upon the throne.

In terms of accomplishments and experience, Raul’s own achievements paled in comparison to the extraordinary legacy of the Eastvale Empire’s ruler. Kneeling there, trembling under the weight of his own inadequacies, he admitted, “I am incompetent and have caused Your Majesty great concern.”

“You are indeed incompetent,” the King retorted with a scoff. “You cannot even recognize your own daughter. I am beginning to question whether you were truly responsible for that incident nine years ago.”

Raul’s heart raced at the implication. Nine years prior, remnants of the previous dynasty had infiltrated Sinderin City, their intentions shrouded in treachery. Simon had relayed critical information through Margaery, enabling Raul to orchestrate a successful capture of the infiltrators.

At the time, he had believed Simon held him in high regard, bestowing upon him a fortune of favor. Yet, it became increasingly clear that it was not Raul who was valued, but rather Margaery, whose life had been the true focus of those actions.

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