Magnate's Blood Crown

Thirty Four

Chalerm walked down the dimly lit path of Panthara village, a small wooden tray in his hands. The sweet dumplings he had just cooked still steamed gently, their delicate aroma filling the air around him. A shy smile played on his lips as he thought of Joss's reaction; he knew how much Joss loved these treats. It was a small gesture, but one that Chalerm hoped would bring a moment of comfort to the man who had stolen his heart.

As he approached Joss's chamber, the light from inside spilled out through the slightly ajar door. Chalerm hesitated for a moment, his heart fluttering with nervous excitement. He took a deep breath, steadying himself before stepping forward. But just as he was about to push the door open, he froze.

Voices drifted out, low and serious. Chalerm recognized them immediately—Joss and Sunan were deep in conversation. His hand paused mid-air, and his heart skipped a beat. Curiosity, mixed with an inexplicable sense of dread, rooted him to the spot.

"...We cannot afford to get entangled in a war that isn't ours," Joss's voice was firm, resolute. The words hit Chalerm like a wave of cold water, and he instinctively pulled back, pressing himself against the wall just out of sight.

"But Chief," Sunan replied, his tone hesitant, almost concerned, "one of the Thai nations is our ally. If they fall, Panthara won't be able to maintain the trade."

Joss's response was immediate, his voice unwavering. "Panthara needs to stay away from this conflict. Our priority is to protect our land and our people. The Thai nations can handle their own battles."

Chalerm's breath caught in his throat. He leaned closer to the door, the tray in his hands trembling slightly as he strained to hear more. His heart, which moments ago had been filled with warmth, now pounded with unease.

"But what if they can't handle it?" Sunan pressed, his voice edged with anxiety. "The war is spreading, Chief. If we don't stand with them now, it might be too late."

Joss sighed, a sound heavy with the weight of his decision. "I understand your concerns. But we can always make other allies in Siam if this one is destroyed. I care only about our peace and well-being. And I believe this is the best for us all."

Chalerm's chest tightened with each passing second. He had grown to care deeply for Joss, had seen the man's strength, honor, and sense of responsibility. But hearing these words filled him with a bitter disappointment. How could Joss, who had so often spoken of doing what was right, now be so willing to abandon those in need?

"Chief," Sunan began, his voice softer now, almost pleading, "what about Master Chalerm? He's from Thammarat. Don't you think—"

Joss cut him off, his tone sharp. "Chalerm's well-being is important to me, but that doesn't change our situation. I care about him, but I have to think about what's best for Panthara. We can't afford to be dragged into a conflict that isn't ours."

Chalerm's heart sank. He felt the sting of Joss's words like a dagger in his chest. The man he had thought he knew, the man he had grown to love, was willing to turn his back on his homeland—on the people who needed help the most. The tray in his hands felt suddenly heavy, and the warmth that had filled him moments ago was replaced by a cold, sinking feeling.

Chalerm couldn't bear to hear any more. With his heart pounding in his chest and his mind swirling with a mix of emotions—betrayal, sadness, and anger—he quietly turned and walked away from the door, the tray of sweets untouched. His steps were slow, heavy, as if the weight of what he had just heard was pressing down on him, making it hard to breathe.

As he reached his hut, he set the tray down on a small table, his hands shaking. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. The man he had trusted, the man he had given his heart to, was turning his back on everything Chalerm believed in.