Herald of Steel

Chapter 903 Alexander and Phillips (Part-1)

Alexander's heart danced craftily upon hearing that the nobles swear that they will consider the crown prince Philips's words as Perseus's.

This was exactly what he wanted.

For it meant that finally he could have a fruitful discussion about the terms of surrender with Philips without the nobles able to later use the excuse that Philips was not the king and so his word did not count.

Alexander had not staged any of this discussion, but he certainly had tried to cleverly steer the conversation along that route.

And it worked.

Hence with the noble's promise at last in his hand, it was on one fateful afternoon that the Pasha finally invited the Crown Prince to his study.

"*Creak*" Gently opening the door with a slow, deliberate push, Philips entered the sun bathed room with steady steps, his head held high.

But as his eyes landed on the man sitting across the desk on the far side of the side of the room, he could not help but produce a wave of conflicted ripples in his heart.

It only seemed just that a few days ago this room was theirs, this building was theirs, this city was theirs, places they could enter and exit as they pleased, do whatever they pleased.

Then somehow, in the blink of an eye a stranger had come in, kicked them out, and claimed everything as his own.

And now they were forced to walk tentatively in their own homes.

The sobering reality of the irony here struck Philips hard as he could not help but lampoon how many times he had done the same thing.

"Good afternoon, Lord of Zanzan." However as Philips approached Alexander, he quickly put such thoughts to the back of his mind, and straightening his back, he greeted Alexander as such with a simple, regal nod.

The tone he used here was more amicable than servile, acting more like he was meeting a fellow king than his betters, his lord, his conqueror.

It was a greeting filled with self-respect and regal aristocracy that left Alexander almost impressed.

Almost.

"I'm also Lord of Tibias now." Alexander was quick to sharply make a deliberate point to emphasize his greater accomplishment upon Philips's greeting, reminding the Crown Prince of the former's superior position, as he then shot the man a very haughty look.

"Yes, you are." And to this Philips produced a slight smile and a very frank acknowledging nod, his eyes bright and shining.

The man did not attempt to argue about the status of Alexander's dominion over them, neither did he try to accuse Alexander of grabbing their land like a scoundrel.

It was a level of frankness that caught Alexander a bit off guard because he thought the other side would try and struggle a bit more.

He had previously guessed that perhaps they would try to elevate themselves to a higher level to better position themselves during the negotiations.

So seeing Philips so tacitly agree to Alexander's claim was truly a surprise.

And this prompted the man to shift his eyes to scan the Crown Prince in front of him.

Philips was dressed in a bright yellow and orange tunic etched with elegant designs, the vibrant colors very much reflecting the traditions of his country, which he paired with a pair of brown pants and high quality leather sandals.

His face, clean shaven and still very handsome however looked quite gaunt, with sunken cheeks, bulging eyes, and black ink under the eyelids, as under his regal countenance laid a curtain of certain melancholy.

And it of course did not take a genius to guess why that might be.

In matching with his hurt face, the once hale and hearty solidly built man also looked quite different, much leaner and thinner.

He had lost quite a bit of weight as evidenced by how the clothes he was wearing looked too big for him with Alexander even finding the sleeve slightly fluttering in the wind.

"Come! Sit." Finished scanning the man at last, Alexander then quickly gestured the man towards the chair opposite of him, and wanting to keep him waiting.

"You look unwell. Are you not eating properly?" Before throwing in this dry query of concern.

Although Alexander perfectly knew Philips's loss of weight was likely not due to diet.

Because even though they had been captured, due to their identity as royals, they were treated like upper class nobles.

Alexander personally made sure that of that- both for Philips as well his other surviving younger brother- Perikles

For instance, during the march to the capital, Alexander provided Philips with his own tent to sleep in, plus a personal slave to attend to his needs, such as bringing him food from the officer's mess hall as well as 'physical relief' at night.

And just like any noble, during the day, the Crown Prince was allowed to ride with the army on horseback, thus being saved the burden of having to cover the distance with his own two feet.

The captured royalty were thus treated with all the proper decorum that was owed to them as per the conventions of the time.

"Hehe," However, although Alexander treated them with their owed respect, towards Alexander's pretended air of concern, Philips could not help but instinctively produce a hollow chuckle.

The true irony here was that the man who was perhaps the greatest malfluence behind his faltering health was now asking him if he was alright.

It seemed almost comedic to Philips.

The reason for his weight loss was needless to say due to stress and worry.

These last two months had not been exactly kind to the man, as with their complete defeat set in stone, it was over this course of time that the man fully woke up to the extent of their loss.

It had not struck him so hard right when they had lost as his mind was then filled with adrenaline.

But once he got the space to cool down and think, it finally began to set on him what their loss truly meant for him and his family.

And it broke the poor man's heart.

During the initial days of his capture, when Alexander's attitude was still ambiguous, he had first assumed the worst.

That the men in their family were going to be executed and the women humiliated and then sold as prizes to various nobles, while all their wealth, power, and prestige dissipated into nothingness.

It was a gut wrenching thought that left Philips shivering as he imagined his family's long and illustrious history vanishing into nothingness, turning into a mere footnote in the annals of history.

And while thinking of his family's demise, he could not help but also reminisce thinking about his own children that had tragically died as victims of the war.

Granted they were technically his brothers and sisters given the immoral way they were born, but still, having spent so much time with them, the man treated them almost as his own children.,

And thus he could not help but shed a tear for them.

Somehow, it was after his own defeat that their death truly hurt Philips.

And then because misery loves company, accompanying this rain of sorrow came also a hail of regret, as reflecting upon his decisions on the battlefield, he finally came to the realization of all the things that he could have done differently.

The most glaring one was of course his ill advised idea to charge the army into the narrow streets of Kalimat in an effort to relieve his father, which had the complete opposite effect of trapping him.

When he looked back on that with the omniscience of hindsight, it tore Philips's up, and his chest literally throbbed with pain everything he recalled it.

But perhaps more than that, the one event that most stung Philips was the particular fact that he could have had his men climb up the walls and open the gates instead of trying for almost an hour to tear them open.

When Philips first realized that such a simple idea had slipped his mind and that he could have come to his father's recuse hours ago, his hands and feet had gone bone chillingly cold and his vision darkened before he had almost lost consciousness.

It had come to him as such a shock.

And it was perhaps most of all this guilt that had sapped all the weight of Philips, as combined with all these, the man had seemingly lost all his appetite for food.

In fact, there were some particularly painful days when he felt like throwing out anything that he ate, just because he felt so bad in his mind.

And it was only after coming back to the capital and seeing his mother and sister were still alive well, untouched by anyone that the man finally felt some reprieve and started to get back his appetite.

That one hollow chortle that Philips had produced thus contained in it such deep meaning and heaviness few could understand.

But the Crown Prince did not bore Alexander by elucidating on it.

This was not the concern here.

Thus instead, quickly swallowing it as it was deemed too inappropriate, he straightened his back, and made the first excuse that came to his mind,

"No, no. It is just that I'm a bit worried that father has not yet woken up. It's been over two months."

And Alexander did find Perseus being in a coma for so long was indeed strange, as the fall had not been that high,

But he quickly shelved that thought.

That was not why they were here.