The White Dove

Lost Hopes

This is in the same universe of The General's Cause roughly in the same time period as a standalone companion/sequel whose events somewhat impact the other story. If you wish to read it, here it is.

Author's note: The same day in his POV...and then the other subsequent dinner night.

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"Long live YOUR MAJESTY!", called out hundreds of voices in a gilded hall as the sun beat down on that gilded hall in the Western desert.

The Oriental Masked King sat down on his golden throne with a look of contempt on his face. It was just another day at court, several hours had already been spent in the blistering heat as hand fans cooled the attendees. In his mind, there was no need to fuss with the formalities as they took up too much time.

"Premier," he stated, calling the man to come forward. The Premier bowed slightly, folding his hands behind yet another memorial. How many blasted memorials could they go through in one day? Apparently, several more than the King would like.

"Your Majesty, we come here today to make a request of you."

Interest slightly peeked, he raised his left eyebrow, asking, "What is it now?"

Another minister chimed in, "Your Majesty, we mean no harm by saying this."

"You will get your head cut off by the count of three should the Premier stall any longer," nonchalantly exclaimed the indifferent Masked King, wearing a mask on half of his face for charity's sake. It was unusual for him to have it off besides when he was fighting on the battlefield.

Enemies, especially low-ranked soldiers were known to flee at the sight of his marred natal scarring. His late teacher, a prominent General, had advised him to use it as a means of intimidation, striking fear into their hearts or something like that. It worked more often than not, sadly.

Perhaps, without the blemish, he would have been known as a handsome man.

As it was, he eyed his subjects with scorn, a sneer splayed across his lips. After all, he had lived his whole life with others viewing him as a beast. If a monster is what they expected, a monster is what they would get.

"The Empress Dowager...", started the other minister.

He chuckled. Whereas a mere grin from the Conqueror set others on edge, and a laugh cause men to tremble; a chuckle from the Oriental Masked King was a common happenstance. However, the Masked King's chuckles meant his patience was wearing thin, and his temper was...well, a nasty business to suffer at the hands of on any day.

"Come again? Dowager?", he mocked, turning to glance at the lady behind the curtain. His long braids swished in the air, bells tingling as he locked eyes with his 'stepmother'.

Facing his subjects, he grimaced, saying, "Remind the former Queen, my father's beloved wife that she holds no power here," he emphasized the word beloved, leading the previous Queen to bristle from her highchair behind the throne. It was no secret how she loathed the ruling Sovereign to those who witnessed their interactions.

If he had come from the fruit of her loins, perhaps she would have hated him even more. There was the matter of his looks after all.

Perhaps it was the Mask itself that made others fear and jeer at him behind his back more than his face. Ghost stories swirled around on how ugly it must be, as only soldiers on the battlefield briefly saw it, not that he cared much to hear them anyways.

"Your Majesty," softly cried out the Premier with fake politeness. The Oriental Masked King had known for quite a long time that the Premier was not on his side, but the former King had decreed that he be the ruler. How was the Premier supposed to defy that order, especially as the King gave it out before he got sick?