In the magnificent and opulent hall, all the beasts knelt on the ground, not daring to look directly at the honored guests who had arrived.
Utmost reverence and fear.
Dortu stepped through the doorway and saw several Holy Envoys in the hall, draped in sacred white robes and cloaks, obscuring most of their faces, with golden wing patterns embroidered on their chests.
He was a king of a nation, yet he still had to pay his respects.
“May I ask, what brings the envoys of the Holy Temple here?”
“We have heard that the Empire has given birth to a descendant of our Angel race. Naturally, we will take this child back to the clan to raise. We hope Your Majesty will part with him willingly.” The Archbishop at the head walked forward, wearing a noble crimson robe and holding a golden jeweled scepter in his hand.
A condescending gaze, a tone that brooks no argument.
Dortu stared at them without speaking, holding his son, who was still unaware of the situation, his face growing increasingly unsightly.
Another Holy Envoy arrogantly spoke, “We hope Your Majesty will not spurn our good intentions.”
“This time, the Holy Temple has sent us here to ‘discuss’ matters. If Your Majesty is unwilling, then don’t blame us for ‘inviting’ the young prince back to the clan lands.”
“We implore Your Majesty to hand over the child.”
This tone was not one of negotiation, but merely a routine notification.
A Holy Envoy stepped forward, reaching out to… snatch the child.
“This is my son! I raised him bit by bit to be so big. What right do you have to take him away!” Dortu took two steps back, clutching his child. He was like a provoked beast, squeezing out a low growl from his chest and between his teeth.
The Holy Envoy wanted to speak, but a young man beside the Archbishop raised his hand to stop him, “His Majesty is anxious about his son, we understand.”
“But…”
The Holy Envoy moved his lips but said nothing more, quietly retreating.
The others seemed to be very respectful to this young man.
Dortu also turned his gaze to him. The young man wore a white holy robe, no different from the other Holy Envoys. His figure was tall and elegant, his temperament very gentle and holy. The only difference was that a strip of white silk covered his eyes, yet it seemed to allow people to feel his gaze, silently searching through all things.
The young man “looked” at the cub in Dortu’s arms, a smile appearing on the corner of his lips, “What a lovely descendant. May I hold him?”
His voice was clear, gentle, and exceptionally pleasant.
Dortu’s face was wary, unwilling to hand over the child, “You want to take Hephaestus away? Is there no room for negotiation in this matter?”
The Archbishop still insisted, “Not long ago, he awakened the bloodline of our Angel race, and he should return to the Holy Temple to receive the inheritance.”
“What if I say no!”
Another Holy Envoy stood out and said, “The Arans Empire is under the jurisdiction of the Holy Church. Your Majesty should also know that you are merely a puppet of the Holy Church. If Your Majesty is unwilling, we can simply replace you with a more obedient monarch.”
“Noah, do not be rude.”
The young man said gently, but he did not stop him from continuing. After he finished speaking, he looked at Dortu, whose face was unsightly, and changed to a more gentle tone, “…Your Majesty should be very clear about the consequences of an angel not receiving the inheritance.”
Dortu’s attitude seemed to soften, a hint of pain appearing on his face, “I…”
Hephaestus, in his arms, felt his father’s body trembling. Worried, he touched his father’s face with his claws, and said softly, “Father, don’t be afraid. Hephaestus won’t leave. Hephaestus will always stay by Father’s side.”
The smile on the young man’s lips deepened, “What a well-behaved and lovely descendant. Your Majesty should not want his talents to be buried in this small place.”
Dortu suddenly hugged his child tightly, burying his face in the little lion’s fur. After a moment, he looked up at the Holy Envoy, his eyes showing some red veins, his tone becoming calm, “Please give me a few days to consider.”
The young man said, “Very well, we hope Your Majesty will consider carefully.”
The Archbishop struck the ground heavily three times with the scepter in his hand, “Three days later, we will come to take the child back to the Holy Temple. We hope Your Majesty will give us a satisfactory answer.”
The Holy Envoys left.
The beastmen in the hall no longer had to endure that terrifying oppressive force.
The confidant Heltu walked over, looking at Dortu with concern, as well as Hephaestus in his arms, “Your Majesty, are you really going to send the young prince away?”
As soon as the Holy Envoys left, Dortu seemed to have aged, his shoulders no longer straight, muttering to himself, “What they want… is just the bloodline of the Angel race…”
“Your Majesty?”
Heltu was even more worried to see him like this.
Dortu figured something out and quickly regained his composure, saying in a low voice, “It’s nothing, I will think about this carefully.”
He didn’t say anything else and left.
For the past two days, His Majesty has not attended court.
From his ascension to the throne until now, a full seven years, he had only been negligent twice.
Once was during the seven days of the Queen’s funeral.
And now, this time.
He locked himself and his child in Peach Blossom Valley, and never came out again.
Only one last night remained before the deadline set by the Holy Envoys.
This night was stormy, dark, and without light.
Hephaestus fell asleep early.
Dortu walked to the window and closed it.
Perhaps the wind outside was too strong, or the torrential rain was too heavy, hitting the window heavily, waking the child.
Hephaestus rubbed his eyes, trying to identify his father’s direction in the darkness, muffled, “Father, it’s so late, why aren’t you asleep yet?”
Dortu walked to the bed and held his son in his arms, gazing at him for a long time, and said softly, “You don’t need these wings. Like Father, let’s cut off these wings.”
Cut… cut off the wings?
Wh-what does that mean?
Hephaestus seemed to be frightened, “Father… what are you saying?”
Dortu took out a sharp short dagger.
“Good son, tell me, tell Father, you don’t need these wings, right?” His voice became increasingly frantic, seemingly carrying a hint of pleading, “Tell me quickly, you don’t need them!”
A clap of thunder exploded outside the window, illuminating the man’s frenzied and distorted expression.
Hephaestus screamed, his body trembling, frightened to tears, “No, no, Father, Hephaestus is afraid of pain, wants wings…”
“Father, please, don’t take away my wings.”
“Wuwu, Hephaestus doesn’t want this…”
“Digging out the wings hurts…”
“Daddy… wuwu, Daddy…”
“Clang!”
Dortu suddenly staggered back, gasping for breath, the short dagger falling to the ground.
His hand loosened, and the child escaped from his arms.
Dortu stared blankly at the little lion huddled in the corner in fear.
The scene from that year seemed to overlap with the scene before him.
His body seemed to suddenly lose all strength, collapsing to the ground in despair, his eyes red, frantically grabbing and pulling at his messy golden hair.
“Hephaestus… Hephaestus…”
He called his son’s name over and over again, trying to call him back.
He couldn’t believe that he had this thought, wanting to cut off his own son’s wings!
“I’m sorry, Father shouldn’t have done that, I was wrong…” He covered his face and cried bitterly, suppressing sobs.
He just wanted to keep this child.
As long as he lost these wings, he would be an insignificant discarded piece, and no one would take a second look at a discarded piece.
Hephaestus watched his daddy’s painful appearance and slowly forgot his fear.
He carefully walked over and hugged his father, his tender voice carrying a hint of crying, shaking his head, “Father raised Hephaestus with his own hands, I won’t leave Father…”
“What I like the most is Father, I won’t go with anyone…”
Dortu hugged his son tightly, holding onto his only comfort.
“Don’t leave me…”
Today I still have to sort out the outline behind, no extra updates, babies go to bed early, good night!
