"Wine!!" Asterion shouted again, beckoning Ethan to join him.
Ethan sighed, irritated by the suffocating stench of alcohol that filled the hall.
"Lord Asterion… I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I wish you would value your title a little more. You are called the King of Knights, after all."
He spoke with seriousness.
Asterion dismissed it with a careless wave.
"And what of it? What if others call me king? Or emperor? What do I gain from living up to their expectations?" He swirled the fine liquor in his bottle lazily. "Or yours?"
The Uncrowned Emperor's voice turned dry.
"I gained nothing from those hollow titles but misery my entire life. And even if I look like a drunken old fool to you… even if I appear weak…"
His gaze sharpened faintly.
"I can still cut down every knight in this kingdom as easily as slicing soft cake."
He drank greedily again, and Ethan understood something clearly.
This old man would do as he pleased.
He would listen to no one.
