Misjudged Lord C6 Simple request

Other than Kael, several nobles and officials were also trying to decipher Thea’s intentions. What was she doing? And more importantly, what did she mean by “The Bread of Allegiance”?

Murmurs spread through the hall, whispers growing louder as confusion swept through the gathered elites.

“Why is Duke Thalric’s daughter pledging her loyalty so suddenly?”

“The Bread of Allegiance? I’ve never heard of such a thing before.”

“Does she know something we don’t?”

The air thickened with speculation as glances were exchanged, uncertainty creeping into the eyes of those who remained seated.

But while many struggled to understand, a select few caught on—the other dukes, high-ranking officials, and those who had been in power long enough to recognize the weight of symbolic gestures.

And then—North Duke Thalric stepped forward.

Following his daughter’s lead, he dropped to one knee, his deep voice ringing through the hall.

“I, too, accept the Bread of Allegiance that Your Majesty has offered, and I pledge my undivided loyalty.”

A hushed silence fell over the room.

Now that both father and daughter had openly sworn their allegiance, the uncertainty in the hall shifted into something far greater—pressure.

Nobles and officials exchanged nervous glances, their thoughts racing.

Duke Xalthar, his large frame tense, narrowed his eyes as he stared at the bread on his plate. “Wait… does this bread actually mean something?”

His gaze flickered to Kael. “The new king purposely served us bread. Is this symbolic? Is he saying that no matter what is placed before us, if it comes from the king, we must accept it wholeheartedly?”

His fingers twitched slightly. “It does not matter what he serves us—what he commands us to do—we must accept it without question.”

Then, a darker thought slithered into his mind.

“But if we refuse His Majesty’s offering…?”

His breath hitched slightly. Was there punishment for rejection?

Xalthar wasn’t the only one entertaining such thoughts.

Across the hall, several nobles stiffened as an eerie chill crawled up their spines.

Their gazes drifted to Kael, who remained calm, composed, and completely unreadable as he observed the North Duke and his daughter.

His golden eyes betrayed nothing—no expectation, no command. Just quiet observation.

Yet, that alone was enough to send some into panic.

One by one, they began kneeling.

The other dukes, heirs, and high-ranking officials followed suit.

Even Karthox, the Minister of War, a demon with a single horn, sharp green eyes, and a wide mouth, found himself kneeling before the new king.

As he lowered himself, a shiver of excitement mixed with fear raced through his spine.

“King Kael… He is colder and more terrifying than his father!”

But at the same time, a smirk almost tugged at his lips.

“Yet… he has far greater potential.”

One after another, nobles and officials dropped to one knee, their voices ringing through the hall as they swore their allegiance.

And while most did so out of loyalty—or fear—many interpreted the situation differently.

Some believed that rejecting the "Bread of Allegiance" was equal to rejecting the king.

A silent, unspoken law had settled in their minds—refusing the bread meant refusing Kael himself.

And in a room filled with powerful, scheming nobles, no one dared to make that mistake.

Meanwhile, Thea watched the scene unfold, her mind set on something else entirely.

“The king is preparing us.”

To her, this wasn’t just a test of loyalty—it was preparation for war.

Kael was treating them like soldiers before battle.

And the battle?

The conquest to become the True Demon King.

---

Kael scanned the group of nobles and officials kneeling before him, one after another pledging their allegiance.

Confused was an understatement.

The way they kept repeating "The Bread of Allegiance" made it sound like a well-rehearsed ritual.

Clearing his throat with a small cough, he spoke.

"Very well. I must say, I am truly pleased by this… unexpected display of loyalty."

His voice was calm, measured—but his indifferent expression made his words feel heavier, more commanding.

The hall remained silent.

Unbeknownst to Kael, his cold and unreadable demeanor only made him seem more imposing.

He placed his hands behind his back and continued.

"And since you have all pledged yourselves to me…"

The air grew tense.

Nobles and officials braced themselves, awaiting his next words.

Kael raised a single finger.

"I have a simple request."

A ripple of unease spread through the crowd.

Then, he smiled.

"I ask that each of you send your most talented fire mages to the palace."

Murmurs erupted instantly, but before anyone could voice their questions, Kael added,

"I have special tasks for them."

The hall stilled.

The nobles' thoughts raced.

It wasn’t an unreasonable request—fire mages were often loaned for special projects or military operations. But why now?

What does the new king need fire mages for?

Regardless of their curiosity, none hesitated.

If the king demanded fire mages, they would send them.

But what purpose could he possibly have?

What they didn’t know was that Kael had simply seized an opportunity.

His kiln construction project—recently completed in the West District or Blacksmith District—was now ready for use.

His goal? Cement production. And potentially more.

But high-quality cement required extreme heat.

The palace’s few fire mages weren’t enough.

Now, thanks to their sudden, overly dramatic show of loyalty, Kael had leveraged their eagerness to secure the manpower he needed.

He gazed at the nobles, his expression unreadable.

Then, he smiled.

A small, casual smile.

Yet, the moment it appeared, a cold chill crept down the nobles’ spines.

"The king… he's planning something terrible, isn’t he?"

"That look… he’s not asking for fire mages for nothing…"

Even those who weren’t typically paranoid felt uneasy.

Meanwhile, Thea observed Kael closely.

At first, she had underestimated him.

Now?

She was genuinely impressed.

Even her father, the North Duke—a man feared and respected for his influence—felt the weight of Kael’s presence.

Kael had not raised his voice.

He had not made threats.

Yet, in a single moment, he had commanded absolute authority.

Across the hall, Eryndra watched in silent awe.

Her crimson eyes flickered with admiration as she observed the scene.

Her voice barely above a whisper, she muttered,

"He is already exerting his rule… claiming his authority with nothing but presence and words."

A slow smirk curled on her lips.

"He is indeed worthy of the True Throne."