They left the hall, and I was left alone in the silence.

  Idiots.

  I gave them a simple task: bring Greg under control. By any means necessary. Flattery, magic, their bodies—I didn't care. Just put a leash on him. But my children... they don't even realize how many people they've already killed with their incompetence.

  Lianel. Swings a piece of iron around her whole life, hones her lunges. And the result? She's an excellent gladiator, but as a battalion commander, she's an absolute zero. She has no strategic skills.

  Alexia? A talentless fool. I genuinely believed her psycho-magic and feminine wiles would handle this "savage." And then I get a letter: "Greg has disappeared." I was furious. She lost the only weapon capable of winning this war without a fight.

  And her husband... Draconite. A rare freak. He brings nothing but problems, and he's as dumb as a rock on top of it. How could she choose that scaly misunderstanding?

  Only Alphus shows any promise. The blood of his father flows in his veins—and that man was a rare piece of scum. But those are exactly the kind of people who survive. Cunning, calculation, a complete lack of conscience—Alphus is the only one who understands the rules of the game.

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  I looked at my hands. I have grandchildren now.

  What will I leave them after I die? This pitiful kingdom? Too little land. Too cramped. These children don't understand what real life is. They play at "peace" while I prepare a foundation of corpses for them.

  If my old friend were here... We'd be laughing at this circus right now. Heh. Actually, what am I saying. I poisoned him myself when he started getting in the way of my plans. A fair price for power.

  Ryan. My youngest. Painfully stupid and naive. He was supposed to marry the daughter of the king of a neighboring state—that would have secured our borders for centuries. And him? He marries this...?

  The King couldn't help but smile, staring into the darkness of the window.

  He found himself a damn beautiful wife, there is no arguing that. The kid has an eye. But still, he makes everything so much more complicated.

  They are young. Stupid. Romantic.

  While they have their heads in the clouds, I have to do the dirty work for them. Raise an army, start a war, expand the borders.

  Alright. My son's wedding is soon. The perfect moment. Kings of other states will arrive, all our allies will gather. There, to the clinking of goblets and wedding songs, we will discuss exactly how we are going to destroy the United Nations.

  I will help them, even if they hate me for it. Because a father's love isn't about patting them on the head. It's the world he leaves to his children, burning the competition to the ground.