Damien had become a strong and powerful King.
His reign was known across the continent. In the two years since he ascended the throne, Damien had brought nothing but peace and prosperity to the people of Persia.
"The court is in session, gentlemen!" the chancellor of Damien's court bellowed.
"Order!"
Damien sat upon his golden throne, eyes sharp as daggers.
"So," he began, voice calm but cold, "what is your advice? What should be done with this traitor?"
One of his chief officers, Pekah, had betrayed him. The man had secretly taken fifty soldiers from Damien's own army and used his name to lead an attack on the Royal Palace of Estoria—a neighboring kingdom.
"Such a grand conspiracy behind my back," Damien said, rising slowly from his throne. "Why would you seek to annihilate the royal family of Estoria in my name?"
"I… I was only trying to help expand your kingdom, Your Majesty," Pekah stammered, head bowed.
"Oh, really?" Damien's voice was ice. "You did this for power. For your own selfish ambitions."
He paused for a moment, then declared, "Without wasting more time, I've come to a conclusion: you shall be thrown into the dungeon."
His voice rang with finality.
"This is my word, and my word is the law."
"The court is adjourned!" he said, turning away sharply.
Damien walked out of the royal chamber, his long cloak trailing behind him. His pace was swift—he had someplace urgent to be.
"Dishon, take me to the underworld. My father summoned me," he ordered.
"Of course, Your Majesty."
Damien rolled his eyes. "Will you stop calling me that?"
Dishon smirked. "But that is what you are."
"You just love teasing me. It's not funny," Damien grumbled. "Cut the nonsense and lead the way."
"You should know the path by now," Dishon replied with a grin. "I've been taking you there since you were five. I don't get why you still can't find your way."
"Do you always talk this much in the morning? Give me a break. And oh, yeah—I'm thirsty," Damien said, eyes turning a deep, dangerous shade.
"I know that look," Dishon said knowingly. "You want blood."
"Yes. Be quick. Get me some before we leave."
"Right away, Your Majesty."
Before Damien could even blink, Dishon was gone—vanishing with vampire speed.
A few minutes later, he returned, handing Damien a dark bottle. "Here you go. From a fresh source."
"Whose?" Damien asked as he unscrewed the cap and began to drink.
"A pregnant woman," Dishon replied casually.
Damien paused, shooting him a sharp look. "Seriously? Why would you do that?"
Dishon shrugged. "I must say though, it tastes great."
Damien sighed but couldn't deny it. "It does taste good. But still—you drained blood from a pregnant woman?"
"I'm not a monster," Dishon said quickly. "After draining her, I gave her milk to help restore her strength. I also checked to make sure she was okay before coming back."
"That's smart. But be careful next time."
"You know," Dishon muttered, "you could hunt humans yourself when you're thirsty."
"I'm the King," Damien said flatly. "I can't go around hunting people. That's what I have you for. You were assigned to serve me, so stop complaining."
"You're so mean," Dishon grumbled.
"I owe that to you," Damien replied with a smirk.
The two men climbed onto their horses and rode away from the palace. As the wind rushed past them, Damien groaned in frustration.
"Must I tell you everything? Tell those foolish soldiers to stop following me."
Dishon shot him a look, then turned around to the troops behind them.
"Men, go back to the castle! I'm with His Majesty. We're just riding around."
"But sir—"
"Didn't you hear what he said?" Damien growled, eyes glowing with power.
The soldier swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty. We're leaving now."
"You better be," Damien muttered, spurring his horse forward.