What kind of person would the king of this country be?
Lita wondered this as she wove her way through the labyrinthine palace with Cecilia, eventually stopping in front of a garden gate.
The guards at the entrance bowed deeply as soon as they saw Cecilia, asking if she required them to announce her presence, but Cecilia refused directly.
Before they even entered the garden, Lita could already hear a man’s hearty laughter. The sound, thunderous as rolling storm clouds, made Lita’s eardrums buzz.
Cecilia released Lita’s hand and led the way into the garden, half a step ahead. Lita kept her head lowered and followed right after.
Meeting the king for the first time, it was only natural for Lita to feel a little nervous.
Up until now, the king had been nothing more than an idea in Lita’s mind. Not until she walked through the palace did she truly feel the meaning of “royalty” and “luxury.”
Royalty meant glittering gold. Luxury meant glittering gold. And the king was glittering gold!
Would the king be so pleased with her performance that he’d bestow upon her some official title on the spot?
No, no, as long as she wasn’t beheaded, that would be enough.
What was she thinking? There’s no way the king would be as tasteless as she imagined…
No, honestly, this king was indeed rather tasteless.
Stepping into the garden, the first thing Lita saw was the king, simply because he was far too conspicuous.
He had a head of golden curls, and a double chin covered by the same gold, curly beard. These features gave the king the air of a lion—if a lion could be this fat.
The king was lying down, but even the opulent robes, so loose they could fit two Litas, couldn’t hide his belly. Like a stone pillar, his round stomach pressed against the long table before him, even as he reclined.
The table was laden with fruit, bottles of wine, and some meats, but it was clearly not a proper meal—just a bit of snack food.
And the king’s appetizers were the two men performing before him—of course, not actual food.
Those two must be Jesters?
Judging by their garishly colorful costumes, Lita assumed so. One of them was even dressed in women’s clothing.
Since they had entered the garden, Lita had been listening to the two Jesters performing a vulgar skit. The man playing the woman made the whole act even more ridiculous.
While Lita was observing the king, the king noticed the movement by the door, waved his hand to pause the two Jesters, and heaved his massive body upright.
Even sitting up straight, he looked to Lita like nothing more than a mound of flesh.
The king’s appearance was a far cry from the dignity Lita had envisioned, leaving her momentarily unsure of what to do.
“Lita, kneel on one knee and lower your head. You don’t need to say anything.” Cecilia whispered the instructions, and Lita obeyed immediately.
“Ah, Cecilia, my daughter, you’ve finally returned.”
The king glanced sidelong at Lita, then opened his arms as if to give Cecilia a big hug. But in the end, he grasped not Cecilia’s hand, but his own wine cup.
He threw his head back and poured the wine into his mouth, then wiped his mouth heartily, though several drops of dark red liquid still clung to his curled beard. “I heard about what happened in Solus City. Well done.”
“Thank you for your praise, Father.” Cecilia folded her hands in front of her, lowered her lashes, and bowed her head slightly to the king.
Looking at the king’s rough bearing, then at Cecilia’s elegance, Lita thought that if not for the striking similarity in their golden hair, she would never have guessed these two were father and daughter.
“Cecilia, when did you get back?” The king put down his cup, lay back again, and rested his head against the broad back of his chair.
“Just now. I came to see you after tidying myself up, Father,” Cecilia answered.
“Good, very good. Although you were the last to return, it’s enough that you’re back.” The king laughed boisterously and popped a grape into his mouth, biting down so hard that green juice splattered into his beard.
“Father, the victory at Solus City could not have been achieved without the help of others. I have recorded the details here.” Cecilia produced an envelope from her sleeve. The maid standing by the king took it and presented it to him.
This was something Cecilia had promised the others back at the second assessment camp. She had said she would present their names to the king, but Lita hadn’t expected it would be the very first thing Cecilia did upon meeting her father.
The king tore open the envelope, glanced briefly at the letter inside, then tossed the sheet onto his seat.
“Ah, alright, I know.”
“Father, because Dorothy committed a heinous crime in Solus City, I took it upon myself to grant most of the candidates the right to enter the capital at the end of the assessment…” Cecilia continued to report.
“Doesn’t matter. Whether more or fewer pass, it’s all the same. In the end, what matters is what benefits they can bring us as Holy Knights.” The king let out a winey belch and washed down the taste with a fresh glass poured by his maid.
There was nothing wrong with this exchange, but it left Lita feeling a little awkward.
The usually careless person was now the king, and the one showing absolute respect was Cecilia.
From the king’s tone, Lita didn’t sense any estrangement between the father and daughter. At least, it seemed the king didn’t care about the curse on Cecilia.
Even so, this king didn’t make a good impression on Lita. Just as she’d first thought—tasteless.
Lita didn’t actually have a problem with body size, but to reach the king’s proportions surely wasn’t easy.
That kind of shape wasn’t achieved in a day, nor by mere indulgence. If not “debauched beyond measure,” it was close.
With someone like this on the throne, and thinking of the corruption among the Holy Knights, Lilia’s wanton killings, Dorothy’s actions, and the ever-looming threat of the Demon Tribe, Lita couldn’t help but feel the kingdom was doomed.
“Cecilia, never mind Dorothy or Solus City for now. When I need you, I’ll call you. Right now, I want to watch their performance.” The king’s gaze shifted to Lita. “And who’s this?”
“This is Lita. I met her in Solus City during the Holy Knight assessment. I took a liking to her and brought her as my attendant.” Cecilia answered for Lita. “Lita.”
Lita was stunned for a moment, then blurted out, “Long live Your Majesty! Long live! Long live forever!”
As expected, she got a look from Cecilia that said, “What are you even saying?”
The king was briefly taken aback, then burst out in roaring laughter, his whole body jiggling with mirth.
He laughed for a long time before slapping his thigh with a loud smack. “Cecilia, this exclusive knight of yours is quite interesting!”
“Lita.” Cecilia called her name with a hint of exasperation, then realized her father had said something during his fit of laughter.
“If I couldn’t spot that, what kind of king would I be?” The king twisted his neck—which was as thick as Lita’s thigh—grabbed his knee, and stood up from his chair. “Lita, stand up. Let me have a look at you.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Lita stifled the urge to say “At once” and rose from the ground.
The king’s gaze roamed unblinkingly over Lita from head to toe, lingering so long it made her uneasy.
Uncomfortable as it was, Lita was certain those eyes held no hint of indecency. Rather, it was like being sized up by a beast of prey.
“Cecilia.” The king lifted his huge hand and waved it aside. “Step back. I want a good look at her.”
Cecilia, though confused, had neither the right to question nor the chance to warn Lita before her father. She obediently stepped to the side.
“Further back, further.” The king waved his pudgy hand as he strode toward Lita, his massive body knocking over a wine cup on the table and staining a large patch of his robe red.
Cecilia retreated a few more steps, and the king was already looming before Lita.
Only now did Lita realize the king was not just fat, but over two meters tall. She’d overlooked this before, distracted by his size.
Standing before her now, he was like a city wall.
A city wall exuding a strong, but not unpleasant, scent of wine, fruit juice, and oil.
“Hmm…” The king looked down at Lita, then raised his giant hand toward her face.
Cecilia frowned tightly. For a man to treat Lita this way—even if he was her father—it was hard to accept.
Just as Cecilia was about to speak up, that huge hand suddenly sped up, swinging toward Lita’s head.
Lita instinctively raised her arm, blocking the massive hand with her forearm.
Bang.
It was as if she’d been struck by a cannonball. Lita was sent flying sideways, skidding several meters across the ground before finally stopping. Her sleeve, where her arm had met the king’s hand, had burst open from the force, leaving a prominent bruise on her skin.
The king’s bulk might suggest great strength, but there was no way he should be this powerful.
That blow was no lighter than an attack from the Lord of the Night, and this was just a sudden burst of force from the king. If he’d truly swung with full might, the outcome would have been far worse.
You can’t judge a book by its cover. This fat guy really is something.
At least, if the king had faced an assassination like in Solus City all by himself, not a single assassin would have left the plaza alive.
“Lita!” Witnessing this scene far beyond her expectations, Cecilia cried out in shock, then her voice softened a little, “Father…”
“Hmm.” The king flexed his fingers and looked at Lita again. “As an exclusive knight, your strength is barely acceptable.”