Fallen General's Omega (BL)-Chapter 220: Good day

The meeting had finally been adjourned.

For once, the usual parade of sycophants, lackeys, and self-serving nobles who practically fell over themselves to praise the king had held their tongues. A rare sight indeed. The king’s court was meant to be his fortress, his sanctuary where his authority was unquestionable—but today? Today, there had been cracks.

And I, Duke Remiro, had put them there.

I fought to contain my smirk as I exited the grand hall, my every step deliberate, exuding control and confidence. The atmosphere in the room had been charged with unspoken tension, and the king had barely contained his rage. I could still picture it—his jaw clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might crack, his fingers digging into the gilded arms of his throne as the whispers of dissent grew louder, as his long-time allies suddenly found themselves hesitant to grovel.

Nothing overt had been said, of course. No one was foolish enough to directly challenge a king who had seized his throne through treachery and blood. But the doubt had been planted, the cracks forming in the foundation of his rule and his faction.

Just as planned.

The quiet rebellion had been carefully orchestrated. The information I had leaked, the whispers I had spread, the subtle fears I had stoked—it was all coming to fruition. The nobles who once hung on his every word were hesitating, questioning whether their unwavering loyalty was truly in their best interest.

The king would not sleep peacefully tonight.

Feeling immensely satisfied, I made my way down the marble corridors, engaging in idle conversation with a few nobles—some of whom had been my co-conspirators in today’s performance. We exchanged subtle nods and veiled remarks, our words carrying meanings only we understood.

The palace was always full of eyes and ears. Even now, as I walked through the halls, there were spies hidden in plain sight—servants, guards, advisors, even the nobles themselves. The king had turned his court into a viper’s nest, and yet he failed to realize that some of those vipers now whispered in my ear instead of his.

Eventually, I managed to extricate myself from the tedious politicking, stepping into the open air just outside the palace.

I inhaled deeply, relishing the feeling of freedom after being surrounded by so much posturing and deceit. Today had been a victory, a small but significant step in the long game I was playing.

I was in such a good mood, I considered taking Celia to dinner tonight.

That was until a voice cut through my pleasant thoughts, effectively souring my mood.

"Duke Remiro."

I turned sharply, my scowl immediate.

Standing there, smirking like the insufferable snake he was, stood Duke Veyron.

"Duke Veyron," I acknowledged, my voice dripping with displeasure. I made no attempt to hide my irritation. "To what do I owe this displeasure?"

He scoffed, folding his arms as he regarded me with that same smug arrogance he had carried since the day I first met him.

"I don’t want to do this either," he admitted.

"Then don’t."

His smirk deepened, as if amused by my irritation. "Unfortunately, my hands are tied."

"Are they?" I quirked an eyebrow. "Last I checked, you’ve spent the better part of your life maneuvering around inconveniences when they don’t serve you."

He chuckled, but there was no humor in it.

"I wouldn’t have to do this if you’d simply let me see my son," he said, and for the first time, there was an edge to his voice, a sliver of genuine frustration beneath his usual mask of arrogance.

I held back a sigh, already feeling the headache forming.

"He’s still not back," I responded flatly, my patience thinning.

Veyron frowned, scrutinizing me as if trying to determine whether I was lying.

"You’ve been saying that all week," he finally said.

"Because it happens to be the truth," I replied smoothly. "Believe me, Veyron, if I had the misfortune of having him in my presence, I would have gladly sent him your way just to rid myself of this constant irritation." Not that I would dare do that, his husband -Thorne would have my head.

His lips curled into a sneer.

"I don’t see why you’re so eager," I continued, tilting my head. "Given how your last meeting with him went, one might think you’d take the opportunity to cut your losses."

His nostrils flared slightly, just enough to tell me I had struck a nerve.

"That’s not for you to decide," he said stiffly. "Besides, I’m sure he’s cooled down by now."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

"I doubt it," I muttered.

Veyron was many things—an opportunist, a snake, a master of manipulation—but self-awareness was not one of his strengths. He seemed to believe that Noelle, despite his justified fury, would simply set it aside out of curiosity or obligation.

He didn’t know Noelle at all.

"Well, nothing I can do about it," I said, sidestepping him, already done with this conversation. "They aren’t here."

He clicked his tongue in irritation.

"You’re awfully eager to protect an omega that isn’t yours," he remarked.

I stopped mid-step, casting a sharp glance over my shoulder.

"You misunderstand, Veyron," I said, my voice dangerously smooth. "I’m I have more of a relationship with Noelle than you do as he is essentially my son in law, I genuinely have more of a relationship with him than you do."

I didn’t wait for his response.

"Well, good day." I gave him a curt nod and continued walking, leaving him standing there, fuming.

The irritation of dealing with him lingered for a moment before I shoved it aside. There were far more important things to focus on.

Like celebrating today’s success.

I had no doubt that the king was currently tearing apart his chambers in rage, cursing the nobles who had failed to worship him as they usually did. He would look for someone to blame, someone to punish—but no matter how much he thrashed, he wouldn’t be able to undo what had already been set in motion.

His reign was beginning to rot from the inside.

And soon, he would fall.

I smiled to myself as I exited the palace, the crisp evening air greeting me.

Yes, tonight, I would take Celia to dinner.

And toast to the inevitable destruction of a king.