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Verdandi sat on a lavishly designed throne and crossed her legs in a manner that lacked modesty yet exuded elegance, all while completely unaware that her father was watching her.
Her gaze swept across the arena with an air of arrogance and dominance before finally saying her first words.
“Sit down.”
Her first words weren't a greeting but a simple command. Unsurprisingly, everyone in the coliseum promptly took their seats at the command.
The chief chamberlain took a step forward and bellowed, “Now, a celebratory performance by the leader of the royal musicians, Gringore!”
Gringore, accompanied by his band, took to the stage and began performing.
He had not changed at all. He was still as handsome as ever, and his voice remained exceptional. However, his expression looked somber, and there was a good reason for that.
Gringore’s life was now nothing short of miserable. His official role as the royal scribe who chronicled the king’s every move had long been abolished, and he was forbidden from going on international tours like he used to.
Now, he was nothing more than a private jester whose sole purpose in life was to entertain the tyrant and the tyrant alone.
‘Keke! Serves him right! He used to scribble shit about me back then but look at him now. So, do you like...
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