Rebirth of the Undead King: Book 2 by Ink Bamboo

Author:Ink Bamboo [Bamboo, Ink]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, Dark Fantasy
Published: 2019-05-10T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Gluing the pieces together.

*Crash!*

The sound of glass shattering against stone replaced the silence inside a room. A crimson puddle next to the fragments of crystal revealed that it wasn’t the first piece of tableware that ended that way. Nor was it going to be the last.

*Crash!*

Following the sound of a bottle breaking, the one responsible for this chaos finally spoke his mind. “My father has gone senile!” he snarled. Locks of auburn-shaded hair fell on his eyes, hiding the rage contained within. “He’s lost it!”

To his side, a man dressed in servant clothing tried to placate his rage. “Prince, please control your wrath, we’ve already been over this. At the very least, I must insist you don’t speak of your father in such terms.”

“Shut up!” came the thunderous reply. “This is his way of teaching me a lesson.”

“I must disagree, my prince,” answered the mild-mannered servant. “This is his way of giving you a chance to win back the nobles’ support.”

“Win it back?” questioned the prince. “That’s absurd! The kingdom is mine by birthright, those parasites have no say over it.”

On one side of the room stood a blonde-haired youth. Barely crossing the 20 years of age, he was the heir to the throne for the Kingdom of Nyx. He had once provided his father a simple yet effective plan to seize the resources south of their kingdom. Unfortunately, for reasons unknown to him, the troops he had sent had been decimated. The investigations conducted by his subordinates had revealed they were all killed along their original victims, something to be blamed on the Church of Death.

To his side stood the man responsible for his upbringing. In more ways than one, he was the prince’s fatherly figure. It was the butler who had served his family for decades and had taken care of the prince ever since he was born. Because of that, he could afford to speak with the prince more casually than the rest of his aides.

“Your majesty,” said the well-mannered servant, “you know the current state of the kingdom better than myself. As such, I hope you can understand why further in-fighting wouldn’t be beneficial.”

As he spoke, the servant carefully removed the remaining wine bottles from the prince’s side. It would be a shame for more of them to end up in the ground.

“Your father just wants to strengthen your image with the rest of the nobles. When you inherit the throne, you will appreciate his efforts,” added the servant, storing the wine bottles safely in a chest.

Listening to matters of the throne, the prince’s rage simmered down. “You’re right,” he said, momentarily comforted by his aide’s words. Alcohol had robbed him of his better judgment for a moment. “Succeeding my father when the kingdom is in such a state would open too many doors for those opportunistic parasites to make their moves. Those greedy pigs won’t give up the chance to take control unless I show sufficient strength.”

“I’m glad you have come back to your senses, my lord.

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