The Tyrant's Pet

Miguel didn’t have a good impression of other creatures. He was born and raised in a powerhouse in the Mainland — a founding family at that. Therefore, it was no surprise he had a sense of superiority over other vampires, especially other races. 

Even so, he had adapted well to the outside world. He realized a thing or two: one was that not all parts of the world knew the existence of vampires. The other realization was that everyone in the outside world was far too fragile. Breaking humans was too pathetic for him; it was too low for him. 

Therefore, he would rather resort to scolding and lectures before truly soiling his hands. 

His curiosity about the king continuously increased with the hassle before meeting him. Not that he couldn’t truly understand, but Miguel was part of the Rothschild. He may not see the King anytime he pleased, but so far, there was no reason for the King of vampires to refuse his requests. He didn’t have to go through multiple searches and even take off everything on him. 

Miguel stood before the entrance of the tent, glancing at the knight who had announced his presence. He arched a brow when the knight faced him, motioning him to enter.

“Is that alright?” asked Miguel with a tinge of equal mockery and genuine wonder. “I didn’t hear anyone giving you permission.”

The knight retained his unchanging front. “His Majesty is inside.”

‘So, he wouldn’t tell me the reason?’ Miguel let out a faint breath, setting his eyes on the entrance. ‘How suspicious.’

Miguel’s eyes sharpened as soon as he took a step, secretly preparing himself for any trap that could be beyond that tent. It was suspicious. He had been through at least ten kingdoms before reaching the territory of Rikhill; he met most of the sovereigns in those lands. 

The sovereign should have someone with him inside a room for these types of things. It would be considered rude to trespass on the king’s dwelling unannounced. At least, that was obvious to Miguel, since the king on the mainland should be respected at all times. 

‘This could be a trap…’ his thoughts continued whilst thinking of different scenarios that could happen once he enter the king’s tent. ‘… well, what could humans do? Wiping everyone out would make my mission easier.’ 

Miguel held his breath, using the back of his hand to slide the entrance open. He peeked inside, brow arched, and then furrowed his brows when he was inside. The tent was almost empty, with only a few crates and a small table inside. 

The inside of the tent didn’t meet the expectations he has. It was more like storage than a tent meant for the king. 

‘This…’Miguel scanned the tent, searching for the throne, and he quickly realized no such thing was inside. 

Aside from the crates and the small square table, nothing else was inside. 

‘Did they lie…’ Just before Miguel could jump to a conclusion, he heard a muffled sound just around. 

“Ugh… he — halp…” 

Miguel furrowed his brows even more, looking around the tent until the faint voice caressed his ear once again. His eyes landed on the stack of crates, advancing toward it cautiously. When Miguel reached the stack of crates, he stretched his neck and gaze over the crates. 

“Ugh…” There, stuck in the back of the crates, was a man. He was wincing at the fact that his bottom was stuck inside a small broken crate. Miguel could tell the man probably fell on it. 

‘Who is this? A chore boy?’ wondered Miguel, assessing the man from head to the toe. 

The man who was asking for help was wearing plain clothes. Not that they looked ragged, but they were far too simple for anyone in the nobility’s taste. Even a commoner on the mainland had better clothes than him.

“Hey!” The man’s voice snapped Miguel back to the current lapse, making the latter refocus his eyes on him. “Please help? I think I broke my back.”

Miguel let out another deep sigh before he offered his hand. Despite the reluctance on his face, the man smiled gratefully. 

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Another deep exhale slipped past Miguel’s lips, rolling his eyes before pulling the man back up. His strength took the man off guard, looking at Miguel with wide eyes as soon as the man was back on his feet.

“What monstrous strength…” The man bobbed his head to examine Miguel’s physique. “I never saw someone pull a grown man as if he was merely lifting a piece of paper.”

Miguel’s face twitched while the man was walking in a circle, admiring Miguel’s strength and complimenting him to high heaven. 

“Though I never saw this type of clothing — oh, are you a guest of the country?” the man gasped in surprise, covering his lips with his palm. 

Miguel set his pair of somber eyes on the man. “I was told to go here to meet an important person. But alas, it seemed I was deceived.”

“Huh?”

“Hah! Why did I believe the most important man in this country would be in this place and not in the comfort of his home?” Miguel laughed, shaking his head with his fingertips on his forehead. “How silly have I become? I’ll surely teach these people a lesson for mocking me for no reason.”

The man blinked almost innocently, watching Miguel laugh in mockery. “The people of Rikhill were honest people. Don’t be mad —”

“You better shut up, chore boy.” Miguel cut the man mid-sentence and glared daggers at him. The man instinctively raised his hands over his shoulders as a sign of surrender. “I am a busy man and therefore, I do not appreciate being robbed of my time by these petty games.”

Miguel huffed angrily, offended by being deceived by the knights outside. The king was not inside, and he was certain of that. This tent wasn’t a king’s temporary office for sure. There was no way this would be this land’s sovereign workplace, considering how dirty and crowded it was.

Just as Miguel was leaving the tent with his fist held tightly on his side, a person suddenly rushed in. The person who rushed inside simply ran past Miguel, making the latter halt in his tracks. Miguel arched a brow and looked back, only to see the person approach the person he assumed was a chore boy. 

“Your Majesty! A fleet from the kingdom of…” the person announced in panic, not knowing how he addressed the man, surprised Miguel.

“Your Majesty…?” mumbled Miguel, causing the frantic person to stop. Both of them gazed in Miguel’s direction and the moment Miguel met the chore boy’s eyes, he knew right then and there that there was a misunderstanding.