Chapter 180: Lessons for the Living
The metaphorical slap struck him harder than any curse could. They really had done that.
So the king was left frozen as if he had swallowed a boulder.
However, it wasn’t just the Elves who reacted to the small detail everyone else overlooked. Kael was genuinely surprised by this because he hadn’t heard about this reasoning until today.
When Riley had first proposed the sanctions, he assumed this one was for some philanthropic reason again—that the elven brat would likely need a passable guardian who could at least still wield magic.
So this was why.
So, the twig was thinking of him, huh?
Kael’s lips twitched into something close to a real smile. And suddenly, the scene before him blurred into a softer image: a little pup who was protecting a wronged dragon was triumphantly yapping at two giant, lumbering bears that didn’t know what to do with themselves.
In his mind, it was almost... adorable.
The air around him lightened, golden eyes glinting with restrained amusement.
However, to one particular prince, that soft, pleased expression was unbearable.
Rowan could see the real scene—one that no illusion could hide.
It wasn’t a harmless pup, but a snarling, demonic little creature humans liked to carry in their bags. But what made everything worse was how behind the same demonic runt that kept on baring its teeth was a looming, bloodthirsty dragon with an extremely short leash.
Sigh.
The elven prince was really starting to detest this combination.
Between the sharp-tongued human and the dragon who looked far too entertained for someone in a diplomatic setting, Rowan had lost track of how many times he had internally sighed.
Still, watching his father flounder beneath Riley’s verbal assault, he couldn’t exactly blame the human. After all, he had seen firsthand how his mother had treated Riley. In truth, they were lucky—very lucky—to even be granted a conversation.
He was just tired, really.
And maybe Riley was right. Death, for all its finality, somehow sounded more peaceful than the sanctions they now faced.
But alas, peace was far from reach.
If anything, it seemed they would be worked to the bone for the foreseeable future.
Still, there was one thing Rowan couldn’t help but wonder.
He took a breath and finally asked, "Aide Hale, about Finnian and the other children... Considering your concern for them, is there a particular reason you want the children informed about this when even the delegates were asked to leave?"
It was an honest question.
As Rowan sat there listening to the human aide grill his father, it was obvious that every sanction had been thought out carefully. They were harsh—perhaps harsher than death for a ruling family—but the reasoning behind them was sound. Fair, even.
And yet, the matter of the children remained a puzzle.
Elves rarely had children. Their lifespans were long, their births few. Because of this, elven children were often shielded from the world’s ugliness until they came of age, and sometimes even after they had reached adulthood.
Humans, he thought, were much the same.
So why was Riley different?
"You’re partly right, Your Highness," Riley began, voice steady. "We’re concerned for them. And we’re letting you off like this mainly because of the children."
King Arlen bristled at that phrasing, clearly not feeling "let off" at all, but Riley continued anyway.
"But we’re also setting these sanctions—and refusing to sugarcoat the truth—precisely because of the children."
"While keeping you alive is but a reward to a proper young prince who, until the very end, was a decent human being, it would also be counterproductive if they remained misled."
Rowan frowned slightly. "Misled? How were they misled?"
Riley met his gaze. "Did you know the children thought you’d come to rescue them?"
Rowan froze.
"They were confident that someone would come," Riley continued quietly. "Because they were told that children were precious, that someone would always protect them if they just held on. They believed it. Completely."
He exhaled, gaze distant. "When I got there, one little prince even asked me if the elves had sent me. He was so hopeful."
The silence that followed was heavy.
"And we know the answer to that, right? Because the truth is, any more sabotage and we would have missed it. Had we not realized something was wrong, how many more people would have been missed?"
Riley’s expression softened briefly. "Eventually, I told them I was from the MBE. Funny thing is, when I arrived, they even wanted to protect me."
For a fleeting moment, he smiled—genuine, small, and tired. But it didn’t last. The expression shifted, sharp again.
"So why tell them the truth, even when it won’t be pretty? It’s simple. Your Highness, they’re young, not stupid. And being young doesn’t give anyone the right to lie to them."
"Besides, their youth isn’t something adults should exploit. You don’t get to earn their love through falsehoods—no turning yourselves into heroes built on lies, and definitely no claiming you ’did your best.’ Because if that was your best, then it’s one hell of a disappointment."
"They deserve to know that much."
Rowan swallowed hard.
"In my opinion," Riley continued, "you don’t deserve to be adored for the terrible things you’ve done. But more than that, they deserve a choice. After everything they’ve experienced, do you think it’s fair to keep them in the dark just because it’ll be a little inconvenient? Maybe a tad bit too dark?"
Riley paused, then spoke quieter but firmer. "But to be fair, we’re on the same boat in this case. Just because I’m not fond of your family doesn’t mean I get to tell the children what to feel. But they deserve to decide for themselves. And to do that, they need to know the truth."
He held up a finger. "One, so they can choose what kind of relationship they want to have with you."
"Two, so they can understand that what happened wasn’t acceptable. And since the other royal sons and daughters already got dragged into this mess, then at least let Silvara raise one child who knows better." Riley didn’t even attempt to be subtle; he just looked directly at the king, who couldn’t believe his ears.
"H-how do you even expect us to raise him better after all these sanctions?!" King Arlen burst out suddenly, sounding older than he had moments before. His voice trembled between exhaustion and anger.
Riley tilted his head. "Sir, since when have those things been needed to raise good children? Because right now, between human parents and all-powerful magical ones, who actually ended up raising decent children?"
The king fell silent.
Riley went on, voice quieter now but no less cutting. "If anything, don’t you think power has done you a disservice when it comes to family?"
Rowan’s hands tightened on his knees.
He felt all sorts of emotions while listening to the human speak—anger, shame, something dangerously close to understanding. For a moment, he wondered what kind of person he might have been if he had grown up in a different family.
But no matter how nice that thought sounded, this was still his reality.
Maybe, just maybe, Riley was right.
If nothing else, they could still give Finnian a choice.