The Tyrant's Pet

Meanwhile, in the Vida Residence…

"I appreciate your understanding and cooperation, Reverend. I'll make sure the church is making the right decision." Joaquin smiled, sitting inside the sitting room, with his leg resting over the other, eyes on the middle-aged man across from him.

Modesto pressed his lips and sported a meek smile. "I hope the crown prince will uphold his end of the bargain," said he. "The church will continue to support the crown prince, so we will hold on to your promise about the church."

"Of course. I am a man of my words. Everyone in the church will be under my protection. No one will ever touch the children with me having you back." Joaquin smiled as he bent over, picked up the decanter, and poured two empty glasses of some wine they could enjoy.

As he did so, Modesto was clutching his hand on his lap, eyes on the crown prince. He told himself multiple times he made the correct decision. Although he might get punished for shaking hands with the devil, he only did so so that this messy power strife would leave the church and the children unharmed.

After all, Joaquin's power and control over the court had significantly increased, even without others realizing it. If only Modesto had a choice, he would've sided with Ismael. Between the crown prince and the third prince, one would surely choose the latter.

Joaquin was just a menace, and it was no secret they were all his pawns.  He would dispose of them without batting an eye if he so pleased.

However, the reason most of the crown prince's supporters still stood by him despite that was to extend their life. Just like Modesto, a man Joaquin had on his neck, would fall from false charges and put the entire church in a scandal if he go against him.

Honestly, a scandal was the least of his concern, but he knew the crown prince. Committing genocide and slaughtering the children the church was sheltering just sounded so disturbingly terrifying and believable, just so the people would lose trust in the church completely was something Joaquin was capable of doing. There were no lengths Joaquin wouldn't go to take down his enemies.

"Cheers?" Joaquin slid the wine towards Modesto, raising a glass with a smile on his face. The latter cleared his throat, reaching for the glass with trembling hands. A smirk resurfaced on the crown prince's face, noticing the pent-up anxiety screaming silently from Modesto's demeanor.

Modesto raised his glass and smiled meekly. "Long live, Your Highness, the crown prince."

"Heh… long live, me." The crown prince smirked, leaning back, elbow on the armrest, gazing at the red liquid inside the glass. "Poor Ismael. I knew he'd do something like this once he had no choice, not knowing he is digging his own grave."

"Serves him right," he added before chugging down the alcohol, only to hiss in satisfaction.

Watching the triumphant smirk plastered on the crown prince's face, Modesto's heart was filled with dread. He lowered his eyes, staring at his reflection in the still wine.

'May the Gods protect this land from this man and may he forgive us who failed you,' he prayed deep in his heart, knowing the empire was heading to damnation with this man holding power. 'May you protect the innocents and give salvation to them.'

********

"Damn…"

Ismael ground his teeth. Hands bound on his back, kept inside a carriage as they deliver him back to the imperial palace as a prisoner. His eyes were bloodshot, kicking the wooden walls of the carriage after letting out another yell.

"Damn you all!!" he screamed to release the building fury within, but to no avail. Joaquin's men seized and killed half of his men, who were with him. It was a meticulous trap and he couldn't believe he voluntarily stepped his foot in it.

"God damn it!!" another outburst came out, kicking the walls of the carriage with his bound feet, causing it to sway sideways.

"Hey! Fuck! Stay still, will you?!" A loud bang came from outside, yelling at him as if Ismael wasn't royalty anymore.

"How dare you…" the third prince's voice shook in anger, grinding his teeth as he kept kicking with all his might.

As he did so, he heard the knight escorting this carriage curse, only for another knight to remind him of the crown prince's orders.

"Don't forget His Highness' orders. Although he will be stripped of his title soon, he's still royalty. He can't attend the trial beaten black and blue. If he gained even the slightest sympathy, we're all done for."

Ismael huffed and puffed the more he listened to the knights' conversation. His anger came not only from his pitiful situation but also, he knew his people were in danger right at this moment. If he was seized in Vida's residence and was framed for an attempt to "bribe" the chief justice, he was certain Carlos had faced the same problem.

Since Joaquin was the one who arrived at Modesto's house, that only meant the crown prince's sword was tasked with something else. Ismael knew his brothers and their issues with each other. It would not surprise him if Roman, the seventh prince, had led Carlos' arrest.

"I can't…" he clenched his teeth, hunching in as he tried to break free from the ropes. "I can't go down like this… Manuel, I can't… our empire… your beliefs and dreams for the people… is done for if that abomination succeeded."

But no matter how much he tried, it was all for naught. Although he didn't have visible wounds, they beat him earlier in the areas of his body that wouldn't be seen. One of them was breaking his left arm, but the adrenaline was helping him numb the pain, so he still had the energy and strength to retaliate.

All he could think of was to escape this carriage because, once they reached the palace, it was over. Everything he had been fighting for, his efforts, his promise he uttered in the grave of the late crown prince Manuel, everything would go down the drain.

He couldn't let that happen. But, how?

"Shit…!" Desperate, Ismael could only curse through his gritted teeth, not seeing any light in all of this. But before he could accept this total defeat, he looked up as the carriage suddenly halted, followed by knights yelling,

"Who are you?!"

No words came afterward because what followed that question was the sound of swords being drawn and angry yelling. Ismael's breath hitched, listening to the chaos happening outside, but he didn't have that much hope because the people who ambushed them could also be one of the people who were after his life.

It didn't take long when the noises outside subsided. Actually, it was too quick that it was almost impossible to assume everyone had already died. The knights under the crown prince were elite soldiers. They wouldn't go down this easily unless the people who ambushed them were ten times their number, which was also impossible since that number would create more noise.

BAM!

Ismael flinched when the door of the carriage suddenly flung open. He raised his shaking eyes and furrowed his brows when he saw an armored knight standing outside with blood smeared across the shiny metal armor.

"Hello," greeted the armored knight with a youthful voice, pushing the visor of his helm up. "You have to come with me if you want to live… said my boss."