There was a difference between recognizing filth and tolerating it.
Rex had spent years watching people rot from the inside out, but bowing his head to it? Letting it touch him? That was a whole other thing.
So when a man with a ridiculous bob of pink hair came strutting forward, all lace and rings,
Rex already felt his teeth grinding.
The noble dipped low, syrup dripping from every syllable of his greeting. And then, like Rex was some holy idol, they leaned down and pressed their lips against his hand clutching the scepter.
As if he were a relic.
As if touching him would make them pure.
The room watched, waiting for Rex to nod graciously. To smile. To play along with the charade.
Instead, Rex's patience snapped.
His arm whipped out.
The back of his hand cracked across the noble's jaw with a sound sharp enough to echo off the marble.
The man reeled, stumbling, but Rex didn't stop.
He caught the bastard by the face, fingers digging into soft flesh until his nails cut crescents into the man's cheeks.
A hush fell over the throne room. The music stopped. The clinking goblets froze midair.
Rex rose half from the throne, eyes cold and lips curled in something close to a snarl.
For a heartbeat, he thought about finishing it, snapping the man's neck right there, used the scepter to paint the dais with blood, giving these perfumed jackals another corpse to step over.
But before he could, something shimmered.
A flicker of violet light sliced across his vision. Then came the rattle of chains.
They shot through the air like serpents, glowing links of purple energy coiling around the noble's torso.
The man screamed as the chains tightened, ribs creaking under their grip, and in a flash he was yanked backward, dragged across the marble floor like a dog on a leash.
Pink bob landed with a thud at the foot of the dais, tumbling down the marble steps in a sprawl of velvet and lace.
Gasps rippled through the hall, followed by the frantic shuffle as the other nobles scrambled back.
The heavy doors at the far end of the throne room creaked wider. Knights stationed there hesitated, hands tightening on their polearms, but instead of moving forward, they shuffled back, parting instinctively.
The first figure strode in with the poise of someone who owned the floor already.
She was tall, her long black hair trailing like silk ribbons down her back. Her gown was the strangest clash of mourning veil and bridal finery, black lace layered over pale skin, every stitch immaculate.
Her lips curved in a sweet, practiced smile, but it was her eyes that froze the room. Violet, bright as amethyst, glinting with danger.
The chains in her hands writhed with a glow that matched her gaze. Each link shimmered with violet light as it tightened around pink bob, hoisting him half-off the ground. He gagged, face blotchy and panicked, scrabbling uselessly at the bonds.
Her voice carried, crisp and honeyed.
"Who," she asked softly, as though to a child, "said you could touch his majesty?"
The knights who'd been at the door stepped aside entirely, unwilling to stand in her path.
Another figure followed her in.
A mountain of a man with snow-white hair tied high into a warrior's tail. A massive lance slung casually over his back. His sharp, severe features and heavy steps gave him the air of a martial statue brought to life. He frowned at the woman ahead of him.
"You shouldn't do that to a noble, Mira Lilith," he rumbled.
The knights stepped back further.
Mira rolled her eyes. Then, as if to mock him, she gave the chains a sharp flick. The violet links constricted, digging deeper. Pink bob screamed as his ribs strained.
Mira's smirk bloomed sweet and cruel. "Should I gag him next, Shin Lan? Or would you rather make him squeal louder?" Her eyes flicked sideways. "Be more like Cross. At least he knows how to behave."
From behind them, a smaller figure scrambled forward in a flutter of white cloak. Barely more than their hips, a boy with short green hair bristling, golden eyes wide with panic. His pointed ears marked him unmistakably. An elf.
"S-stop!" His voice cracked. "We're in front of the royal court!" His small hands pressed against Mira's chain, but the links burned violet and he winced away.
The commotion might've spiraled further, but then another presence cut through the air like a blade.
A girl pushed past the group, short copper hair, her gray eyes searching, frantic.
The nobles recoiled, muttering under their breaths as though the intruding group carried some unspeakable plague. Perfumed sleeves lifted to cover sneers, jeweled rings waved in disdain as they turned their backs.
"...what are they doing here?"
"...a demon, in the king's hall?"
"...who let them in?"
"…Unthinkable, this isn't a tavern."
"…Mercenary filth, they reek of blood."
"…Is that a thief standing beside him?"
"…Gods preserve us, he brought an elf too? Bold, after the treaties…"
"…Lowborn scum, he calls them companions?"
"…Does he mean to shame the crown with such company?"
"…Surely this is some kind of insult… to us all."
Even the priest beside Rex gasped, scandal dripping from his voice.
"Knights!" he barked, his shrill command echoing against the vaulted walls. "Why are you just standing there? Get them out! I told you not to let them in!"
Rex tilted his head, studying the man with a flicker of dark amusement.
So there really is always someone who thinks they're above the king. New crown or not, Rex knows enough to recognize when a man wants to snatch authority from its rightful seat.
But his thoughts got cut at the sudden shriek that ripped through the chamber.
"SINI!"
The copper-haired woman collapsed to her knees, the blood-slick floor soaking her skin as she landed.
She gathered the lifeless body of the other copper-haired woman into her arms with a desperation that stilled the room.
The other three who had entered with her froze mid-stride, their bravado collapsing into stunned silence.
Their eyes lifted to Rex--- sharp, accusing, searching for an answer.
And all Rex could think was… how the hell was he supposed to know what was happening?
A few minutes ago, he'd been convinced he was dreaming his last dream before execution on a prison cot.
Now, this… this felt like an execution with a production cost far more extravagant than it had any right to be.