Pherenike - Chapter 52

In truth, Deucalion always wanted to keep her close, to monopolize her. If possible, he would have never let her go anywhere without him. While he allowed her to mingle freely with his friends in his presence, in her absence, he transformed, consumed by a dreadful possessiveness.

‘That’ Deucalion choosing one of the boys as Pherenike’s guard signified that only that boy could be trusted beside her.

It was the greatest expression of trust Deucalion Paetusa could show – a confidence in their abilities and faith in their character. This was virtually a guarantee of their future importance.

Furthermore, for some young men who admired Pherenike even in the face of the prince’s tyranny, it must have been particularly poignant.

Dexikos long swum in jealousy and envy, and Viano, who once adored Pherenike to the point of getting tormented childishly.

Right. At one time.

Back then, the adults who cherished young Pherenike, friends who admired and revered her from close quarters, the entire society that loved her, had all vanished.

Now, as she shone in the reign of King Actor Nikandros, everyone, including Viano, gritted their teeth. They wished only for Pherenike Vassilios’s downfall.

Look at the men she loyally healed for Actor, those arrogant and despicable centurions of the Nikandros army. What name did Actor Nikandros carry in their world? How many times did their young Deucalion have to approach death’s door for that name?

The hatred grew day by day. Pherenike was now despised like the lowest of humans, sometimes even called filthier derogatory names than the women in the streets. Even if they didn’t dare to talk about it in front of their Master.

But Deucalion, for years, acted as if Pherenike didn’t exist, not mentioning or acknowledging her existence.

For those who knew ‘them’ well, it was bizarre. It seemed as if, for Deucalion, Pherenike simply ceased to exist, and thus, he didn’t even bother to hate her.

But, there was always the lioness.

The lioness integrated herself among the loyal pack of wolves that was tamed by the prince and always guarded his side. Over time, she appeared more like Deucalion’s lioness than anyone else’s.

Yet, some still saw beyond the tame lioness to its real master.

Young Pherenike used to carry the lioness like a cherished cat. Dexikos remembered the way young Deucalion looked at the girl and her lioness.

Could Deucalion really have forgotten that damned woman? Could he have cut her off so cleanly?

Dexikos trusted Deucalion, but not his love. Viano shared this disbelief.

Some, however, believed that a man like Deucalion could change overnight, like turning his skin inside out.

Because the betrayal was too much. Because he loved his lover that much.

Thus, under the same Paetusa sky, some believed, and others did not.

Several years passed.

Deucalion’s indifferent attitude towards Pherenike in Paetusa was as solid as a pillar of salt in the desert.

And so, not long ago, Viano’s subordinate made the mistake of genuinely accepting his Master’s disinterest. To them, it seemed insignificant.

But, unluckily, it was anything but.

One day, when news of the queen’s pregnancy reached Paetusa, a lancer crudely called Pherenike a ‘w***e’.

Unbeknownst to him, his Master was just passing behind him. Therefore, inevitably, he couldn’t take back his calamitous words in time.

The lancer’s words continued until Deucalion unmistakably understood that the ‘dirty wench’ referred to was Pherenike Vassilios. The lancer, known for his coarse language but cherished by Viano, was a skilled freeman-turned-soldier who was even remembered by Deucalion for his prowess.

The prince turned and approached the lancer. His stride was leisurely, his expression as if he hadn’t heard a thing. However, those who had known the prince since childhood sensed something amiss.

Viano, who was far away, quickly returned to his men. But despite his efforts, Deucalion was faster.

“Continue.”

“….Lord Paetusa.”

“I couldn’t fully hear your precious words because I was hasty in my steps. Please enlighten me again with your noble mouth; it would be of great value to me.”

“…..”

“Thion of Viano, speak again.”

He commanded Viano’s lancers, in the same manner as usual. There was no way someone whose throat was already dry with anxiety could possibly speak.

Silence ensued. Realizing the situation was graver than anticipated, Viano forcefully kicked his subordinate, forcing him to kneel.

Deucalion cast a cold glance at Viano, showing his dissatisfaction. Yet outwardly, that was all the emotion the prince displayed.