[Greek Mythology] The Demons Under My Command - Chapter 49

Li Jia followed Dorin and Winslow for less than a ban zhan cha (a short period of time), when she suddenly stopped, clutched her stomach, and frowned in protest: “No, no, I can’t walk anymore. I’m hungry, I need to eat first.”

Dorin was speechless: “Aside from eating, drinking, and having fun, do you have anything else interesting to do?”

“I didn’t have dinner, I’m starving!”

With that, the little yellow chicken squatted down on the ground, refusing to move another step.

Li Jia and Hera had entered the marriage history (registered their marriage), which technically made Li Jia the Queen of the Marriage Pantheon. Dorin and Winslow should treat her with respect.

On the first day after returning from the marriage registration, Dorin tried to change her address, but Li Jia immediately stopped her, saying it gave her goosebumps.

Li Jia was originally of humble civilian background. If she were waited on and fawned over every day, it would truly “shorten her lifespan.”

So, the few of them continued to interact in private as they did before, without any constraints of etiquette.

Li Jia couldn’t be blamed for being hungry. The three of them were divine beings, long detached from the desire for food. Winslow just loved to study gourmet food; not eating wouldn’t kill her. Only Li Jia was truly mortal, and to a mortal, food was essential—missing a meal was a painful experience.

“I dare you not to eat anything I make in the future.”

Winslow gave Dorin a disdainful look, linked arms with Li Jia, and led her toward a small noodle stall: “Don’t mind her, let’s fill our stomachs first.”

Most restaurants on the late-night street were closed, with only this noodle stall lit by an oil lamp.

Dorin looked at their retreating backs and realized her words just now were a little inappropriate. She quickly followed and stood by the noodle stall, her tone softening: “Order whatever you want. I’m paying today.”

Li Jia wasn’t that petty, but since Dorin offered to treat them both, it was a rare chance to pluck a feather from the iron rooster; they couldn’t miss this opportunity.

Hera, amused to see Dorin suffer a minor loss, also sat down with them at the small four-person table.

They ordered two large bowls of hot soup noodles with triple portions of meat, and two bowls of regular soup noodles.

Dorin wasn’t hungry originally, but the aroma from the noodle stall wafted into her nose, making her involuntarily swallow. Hera purely ordered a bowl because Li Jia had ordered one.

The proprietress of the noodle stall was a middle-aged woman. Because she sold noodles, she wore a hood that covered her hair and a cloth mask. She was neatly dressed and worked efficiently.

Ancient Greek noodles weren’t as refined as modern ones; they were wide strips of dough made from water and flour, boiled, and simply seasoned.

The proprietress added nothing else but a small scoop of salt from an aluminum can and a piece of dried seaweed. When the dough floated, she served the noodles and soup into a coarse porcelain bowl, sprinkled a handful of fresh green scallions, and included a complimentary braised egg.

A little girl wearing a deerskin hat helped her. The girl had big, round eyes and, though young, was experienced, wearing custom-made thick gloves to serve their noodles.

Selling hot food in the cold winter night climate of the Northern Kingdom was common, but few stalls were open this late. A few batches of night-owl customers came and went intermittently.

Hera put all the meat from her bowl into Li Jia’s, so Li Jia ended up with four times the meat slices.

Winslow sighed, thinking, This is the sickeningly sweet smell of a couple in love.

Li Jia took a sip of soup and slurped a few mouthfuls of noodles. She instantly felt warm all over, and lazily said, “Do you know why, out of ‘eating, drinking, and having fun,’ ‘eating’ and ‘drinking’ come first?”

“Why?” Winslow asked.

“Because if you don’t eat, people die, right? If you’re dead, how can you talk about having fun?”

Li Jia wiped her mouth. To her, eating was the most important thing; everything else had to make way for it.

If you asked Li Jia, all the love, hate, and grudges in the world couldn’t compare to the spicy hot pot sold downstairs from her house for $1.80 a pound, with no limit on meat or vegetables.

Those young people heartbroken and seeking death, students tortured by their studies, and social workers with dark circles going to work—they should all put their troubles aside.

They all need to eat well.

Winslow agreed with her, adding: “Li Jia is right. Among the seven emotions and six desires, appetite is the foundation of a mortal’s life. All other desires are built upon the foundation of appetite.”

You must ensure your warmth and satiety before you can consider what to do next, what your life’s ideals are, and what you can achieve.

The proprietress was pulling and boiling noodles, while the little girl stood outside the stall soliciting customers, acting boldly and enthusiastically. Dorin watched the two of them for a long time, lost in thought.

After the peak hour rush, there were only the four of them at the small stall.

“Viya.”

The proprietress’s voice, wrapped in the scent of noodles in the night wind, had just faded when the little girl in the deerskin hat bounced over. Her apron was dusted with flour, like sprinkled stars.

“Mom, what is it?”

She answered clearly, her round eyes sweeping over the tall stack of meat in Li Jia’s bowl, secretly swallowing.

Li Jia pushed the thick, untouched slices of meat in her bowl towards the girl. Her fingertip touched the girl’s hand, which was red from the cold. The girl flinched back in surprise, but the proprietress pushed her gently with a smile: “Take it. This customer is kind.”

Viya carefully accepted the meat, warming it in her hand, and quietly said thank you.

Dorin casually asked, her voice softer than usual: “In weather this cold, why don’t you let her stay home?”

The proprietress was wiping the stove. Her movements paused at the question, and the white mist of her breath obscured her eyebrows: “Her father died early. We rely on this little stall to earn a living. If I didn’t let her come, she’d throw a tantrum at home, so I might as well bring her along. I can watch her that way.”

“I like being with my mom. I can help my mom with lots of things. I’m my mom’s good helper!”

Viya swallowed the meat, wiped her oily hands on her apron, and said happily.

Li Jia stopped playing with her noodles and glanced at Hera, who understood and pushed the braised egg from her porcelain bowl toward Viya.

The little girl looked at her mother, and the woman nodded in silent approval.

Picking up the braised egg, she took a bite but kept her ears pricked, listening as the proprietress continued: “She’s still young. I need to save more money. When she’s older, I’ll send her to school in town. Learning to read is better than following me, being exposed to the wind and sun.”

“We are foreigners. We heard that the Empress of the Northern Kingdom abolished school fees a long time ago. Why do you still need to work this hard?”

Dorin was confused. When she left the Northern Kingdom, it had already undergone comprehensive reform, and children’s schooling was free of charge.

The proprietress sighed: “The Empress was benevolent. Before she passed away, she preserved the right of girls in the Northern Kingdom to go to school. Everyone remembers the Empress’s grace. But after King Mer succeeded the throne, he was intent on abolishing this regulation.”

“He believes girls shouldn’t read or write but should stay home and raise a family. After Queen Fran argued strenuously with him, a new regulation was reached: both boys and girls can go to school, but girls must pay for themselves.”

“Because King Mer believes girls are weak and cannot grow up to join the army like boys to do something for the Stuarts. Yet, General Caesarine proved that women also possess strong leadership abilities.”

Hera suddenly said, “King Mer’s regulation may not stand.”

Li Jia chewed her noodles and mumbled in agreement: “Exactly! Why can’t girls go to school? Boys go for free, and girls have to pay for themselves? What about those girls who can’t afford to go to school?”

She put down her chopsticks and patted Viya’s shoulder, “Study hard in the future. Adults’ matters will be handled by adults.”

Viya blinked, nodding vaguely, but held the remaining half of the braised egg up to her mother: “Mom, you eat too.”

The woman took the braised egg and put it in her mouth. Her eyes suddenly reddened, but she didn’t let the tears fall, only adding another log to the stove, making the firelight brighter.

After Viya finished the egg, she proactively came over to clear the empty bowls. Hera reached out and handed her empty bowl to the girl. Viya looked up and smiled at Hera, her eyes as bright as the stars of the Northern Kingdom.

The proprietress saw this and also smiled, adding a log to the stove. The firelight bathed the entire stall in warmth, and even the night wind seemed to soften a bit.

After paying the bill, the four of them walked out of the noodle stall together. The little girl stood on her tiptoes, helping her mother tidy up the tables and benches. Li Jia looked at the busy figures and said, “From this, it seems Queen Fran isn’t as unbearable as the rumors suggest.”

“A truly vicious woman wouldn’t care about the people’s livelihood.”

Li Jia kicked away a small pebble at her feet, her voice carrying a certainty: “She could just be the high and mighty Queen in the palace, without needing to conflict with King Mer at all.”

“So we must come and see, mustn’t we?”

Hera glanced at Dorin, and they both fell silent for a moment.

Winslow, who had read all the gossip and novelettes across the four realms, had heard a little about Fran, the wicked stepmother, and asked curiously, “Then do you think the rumors about Queen Fran mistreating her stepdaughter and being jealous of her beauty could be true?”

Li Jia burped: “I think the possibility is very small. If she truly hated her, why didn’t she just nip her in the bud, kill her when she was an infant? A baby is fragile; a simple cold could take her life.”

“Or she could have her own new child, who would become the heir to the country.”

“But none of these happened,” Winslow added. She recalled the records she had checked: Queen Fran had been married for fifteen years without ever becoming pregnant. Instead, King Mer’s health was deteriorating, and the court physician openly stated it would be very difficult for him to have more children.

Things were probably not that simple. Only the people involved knew the truth.

“Let’s go, let’s go see the people involved.”

The moonlight spilled over the top of the palace wall. A woman sat at a dressing table, a cold, indifferent face reflected in the bronze mirror.

She held the gilt comb between her fingers, combing her fine, deep brown hair. Her long hair was as smooth as satin, with a honey-colored sheen at the top, sliding over her shoulder with the movement of her raised hand, combing stroke after stroke.

Fran closed her eyes, listening to the increasing “clack-clack” sound coming from outside the hall.

Military boots stepped over the floor tiles, their rhythm steady, like a blade about to cleave the darkness.

“Queen Fran.”

Caesarine took off her cloak, which was damp with night dew. The silver longsword at her waist flashed with cold light: “I wonder what urgent matter you summoned me for so late at night.”

Hearing the voice, Fran opened her eyes. A pair of emerald pupils, slightly upturned at the corners, with light golden flecks around the irises. Today she wore a dark-patterned velvet gown. The cool white of the pearl necklace at her neckline made her neck skin appear even more translucent.

No sharp weapons were allowed in the Imperial Palace. The guards outside the hall had originally intended to stop her, but Fran had forbidden them. She had everyone around retreat, so now, in the massive bed-chamber, only the two of them remained.

Fran understood Caesarine’s aggressive demeanor; she had always disliked her because of Moise.

“Mer wants to abolish Moise’s status as Crown Heir. He wants to restore the Harrington surname.”

Fran’s voice was light, yet it was like a pebble dropped into a calm lake, instantly shattering the tranquility of the hall.

She did not look at Caesarine, her gaze still fixed on her own reflection in the bronze mirror, as if speaking of a trivial matter.

Fran’s frankness startled Caesarine. She had long suspected King Mer’s intentions.

Ever since the Harrington family requested “reversion to the ancestral name” three years ago, harboring ambitions to break away from the Chekko family tree, King Mer had frequently mentioned his “Harrington bloodline” in private.

He believed that since the old King and Empress had passed away, the Stuart Kingdom should not be inherited by the departed surname and bloodline.

The old King had agreed to Mer becoming the Prince Consort partly because Mer and the Empress understood and liked each other, and the old King did not want the Empress to marry someone she disliked.

On the other hand, the Harrington family had pledged their loyalty to him, vowing to protect Chekko for generations.

When the truth was revealed by the current Queen, Caesarine couldn’t help but feel an alarm bell ringing in her heart.

Before King Mer became the Prince Consort, he was the youngest son of the Harrington family. The Harringtons had served as the Stuart Kingdom’s Master of Ceremonies for generations. He and the Empress had grown up together as childhood sweethearts.

Mer, Fran.

They were the most important people in the Empress’s life apart from her blood relatives.

One was a confidant.

The other, a husband.

The taste of being betrayed by a loved one was not pleasant. Caesarine looked at Fran’s expressionless face and instinctively said, “Since you summoned me here, Your Majesty, you wouldn’t just be telling me this.”

“I know you are loyal to Moise, loyal to Chekko, and that is why…”

“I only trust you.”

Fran smiled. She had long heard of the reputation of this cold-blooded General.

Now, their objectives shared the same starting point.

The enemy of my enemy is my ally.

“He won’t stop.”

Fran’s voice was very soft, yet carried the resolute finality of a decision, and she continued: “His desire to change the Stuart surname has not been for just a day or two.”

Caesarine tightened her grip on her sword, her knuckles white from the effort pressed against the hilt: “What do you intend to do?”

“I must protect everything Hawthorne left behind, including her child.”

“Her country, her people—I absolutely will not allow any of it to be trampled upon.”

Hawthorne Chekko was the Empress’s full name.

It had been a long time since anyone had spoken that name.

“Leave the Imperial Guard in Mer’s bed-chamber to me.”

Fran opened the drawer in front of the dressing table and showed a command token to Caesarine.

“This token can mobilize three hundred Imperial Guards within the palace. They are my sworn dead-men, whom I raised, and are at your command.”

Whether Caesarine agreed or not, Fran firmly pressed the token into her hand, allowing no refusal.

Caesarine looked at Fran. The two women faced each other silently, looking at one another, neither saying anything.

People always mistake admiration for a person of the same sex for jealousy, and jealousy for a person of the opposite sex for love.

Caesarine understood her intention, accepted the token, and knelt on one knee: “Caesarine St. Lanfina pledges the entire honor of the St. Lanfina Ducal House.”

“Queen Fran’s request, I will not fail.”

Fran, overjoyed, helped her up, took a secret letter from her sleeve, which contained a map of the palace’s defenses, with key locations marked in red pen.

“Three days from now is the Empress’s memorial ceremony. Mer will personally go to the hall to pay his respects. That is when he will have the fewest personal guards.”

Fran whispered, “Caesarine, your task is to prevent anyone from entering the hall. Just ten minutes. Ten minutes is enough. This must end.”

Caesarine folded the secret letter and tucked it into her inner pocket, her fingers gripping the cold token. Her back was already slick with sweat.

“After the deed is done, what about you?”

“I will return to where I belong.”

“I will wait for you at the corner gate on the west side of the memorial hall at sunset three days from now.”

As Caesarine turned, the force from her cloak brushed the wick of the lamp in the hall. In the flickering lamplight, she saw Fran pick up the gilt comb again, slowly combing her long hair.

The figure in the bronze mirror was still cold and indifferent, but the tip of her nose was faintly red, almost imperceptibly.

The moment the hall doors closed, Fran finally stopped her movements and buried her face in her hands.

For fifteen years, she had endured the reputation of “wicked stepmother,” protecting everything Hawthorne left behind, and watching Mer gradually expose his ambition. Now, she had finally found someone she could entrust everything to.

Meanwhile, the four of Li Jia were standing behind a wooden screen in the bed-chamber, watching the flickering shadows of the lamps on the palace wall.

The little yellow chicken was terrified. Hera had cast an invisibility spell, and they had quietly sneaked in, witnessing everything as if they were watching a television drama.

It wasn’t until Queen Fran left the bed-chamber that Winslow tugged on Li Jia’s sleeve, whispering, “Do you think Queen Fran will really act? What if she’s just using Caesarine…”

“No, she won’t.”

Li Jia said bluntly: “A Queen who would ensure her people can eat in peace would not risk the entire country.”

Hera and Dorin exchanged glances, both seeing understanding in the other’s eyes. They had to find a way to get into the memorial ceremony three days from now.

If Caesarine failed, they might be the last line of defense.

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