The Tyrant's Pet



"It's interesting to see the respectable heir of the Rothschild on my way here. From what I saw, it seemed you rattled him a little." London pranced inside Dexter's small office, helping himself to get a seat since Dexter wouldn't offer him one. "I don't know the details of Her Majesty's order, but if I remember correctly, Her Majesty wants you to coax him, not scare him."

Dexter was standing in front of the window, eyes on the distant driveway where he could see Miguel ride his steed. Some royal knights were assisting the Count as they brought his steed. 

"He is in denial. Coaxing him will not make him dance in her tune," answered Dexter, watching how Miguel gallop away from the palace. "What a silly man."

"You can't blame him." London shrugged, pouring himself tea. "The Rothschild were loyal supporters of the royal family. Many say the Rothschild wants to covet the power of the royal family — the king's power. However, I can attest they would never do that."

London paused, leaning back against the chair with the cup of tea in his grip. "The Rothschild was a part of the founding families in the Mainland. For them, the Mainland was absolute. They see nothing wrong here. Perhaps you could say they were that ignorant, for they were so loyal they never went out to see how vast the rest of the world is."

"Miguel was granted a chance to go in and out of this land. Therefore, he was exposed to life beyond the mysterious borders of the mainland," he added in a knowing tone, taking a sip before continuing. "He was a righteous man. Witnessing that the practices on the mainland were nothing but cruelty definitely rattled him. Therefore, he was torn between his love for his country and his so-called morals."

Dexter had figured that out, but he kept silent. Meanwhile, London enjoyed the rest of his tea in silence. 

"I understand the Count's dilemma — my sister is also aware of that." Dexter broke his prolonged silence with a narrowed eye. "But what I couldn't understand until now is why did they allow Miguel Rothschild out of the territory of the Mainland? I don't think the clan head was that oblivious of the outside world."

"If I only know, you wouldn't have to wonder," London replied. "I was also curious and even asked the Duke — in a roundabout way, of course."

"And his answer?" Dexter looked back ever so slowly. 

London shrugged. "Because Miguel Rothschild was his heir. It was part of the training before inheriting his title. It was more like passing a family secret to the next heir sort of thing, but somehow, I can't just fully believe it, no matter how the argument made sense."

"And why is that?"

"I don't know." A smile turned up on London's beautiful face. "Gut feeling?"

Dexter wanted to argue or press on the matter until he would get more hints from London. However, upon assessing this female-looking man, Dexter was certain London was holding back information. 

London wasn't lying. 

"Gut feeling, huh?" Dexter rocked his head before marching to the bookshelf in the corner. 

"I lived a life longer than you did. I can safely say it is thanks to my gut feeling. It saved me countless times in the past and the present." London kept his gaze on Dexter's figure while maintaining his smile. "The full moon is approaching. You were rather relaxed than I expected you to be."

"If you came here to get more information than you are already given, you came to the wrong place. I only know the orders I received — nothing more, nothing less." Dexter's tone had a tinge of disinterest, brushing the books on the shelves with his fingertips. When his finger stopped on a particular book, he tipped it back.

"That's a shame." London sighed, watching Dexter face his direction again. "It bothers me that up until the last minute of the Queen's first coven, I am still unsure whether I'd be your ally or enemy."

"Either way, it's still good that you are not pressured to side with anyone."

"Now that you mentioned it, are you not pressured, Marquess?"

Dexter didn't answer immediately as he smiled. "I don't think you were that unsure whether you'd be the Queen's ally or not. I think you already know the answer for yourself. Abel visits you, doesn't he? I'm sure he already gave you a hint."

"You think too highly of your emperor."

"Trust me, I don't." Dexter chuckled, marching to the chair behind the desk near the set of chairs where London perched. When Dexter found his comfort in his seat, he raised his gaze to the guest of his office. 

"Abel is a generous man… which made people wish he wasn't." Dexter flashed London a friendly smile, but his polite smile somehow irritated London. "I am someone who received that benevolence, after all. And I wasn't thankful for that generosity even one bit."

The natural smirk that London always wore slowly faded while holding Dexter's gaze. The latter surely knew how to talk. London remembered being the person who would get on Dexter's nerves with every opportunity he could get, but now the tables had turned.

"You are right." London let out a sharp breath as he placed the empty teacup back on the table. "Abel is a generous man, and I wish he wasn't."

London placed his hand on his thigh, pushing himself up. He slowly faced Dexter's desk, carrying a solemn look on his face. His eyes were distant; a look that rarely appeared on his pretty face.

"The tea you brew is by far one of the best I had for many years. It's a shame I didn't try hard to learn your techniques." London sighed in disappointment.

"I guess this is farewell," said Dexter. "I shouldn't be relaying my gratitude for imprisoning me, but I appreciate your effort to help my sister."

"It was a trade. There's no need for words of gratitude. Very well — it was nice meeting you. I supposed the next time we meet, it'll be a little different." London beckoned a neck bow. "Until then."

Just as London turned around to leave, Dexter propped his arms against the edge of the desk and spoke. 

"If you already know where to stand, why are you waiting for things to happen first? You could prevent the worst, Leviticus." This was probably the only chance Dexter could have to ask this question. 

London stood still as he lowered his head. The corner of his lips curled up bitterly. 

"You can say it is the same reason as the Count." London looked back at him. "This matter is more personal than it appeared, and things had always been easier said than done."