piratefiction Chapter 177: Entertaining
Chapter 177: Entertaining
Chapter 176
Nolan
So last night, I was drowsy. I woke up to pee, shuffled to the bathroom half-asleep, and found an explicit show on full display.
Ciel was on one of those fancy bathroom chairs they have in the palace—the ones that look more like thrones than something you’d actually sit on. And Jack was on his knees between his legs.
I froze in the doorway.
It was comical, really. The way time seemed to stop. The way Ciel looked at me—eyes wide, mouth open, frozen mid-moan. And Jack? Jack looked up, face still buried between Ciel’s thighs, before slowly pulling back.
His chin was glistening.
He had an infuriating smirk on his face.
"That’s what you get for sleeping, doggy," he said.
Like it was my fault. Like I was the one who decided to have loud, explicit sex in a shared bathroom in the middle of the night.
I backed out. Closed the door. Went back to bed.
And then I lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the water run, trying very hard not to imagine what was happening on the other side of the wall.
I failed.
Work today is going to be so hard.
Not because of the actual work. Because I’ll be so distracted by what I saw.
Ciel’s head thrown back. Jack’s hands on his thighs. The way Jack looked at me... smug.
Fucking asshole.
I stare at my laptop screen. The numbers blur.
"Mr. Harlow?"
I look up. My coworker is standing in my doorway, holding a file.
"Are you okay? You look... flushed."
"I’m fine," I say. "Just... warm."
She eyes me strangely but doesn’t push. She sets the file on my desk and leaves.
I stare at the file.
I think about Ciel’s legs wrapped around Jack’s shoulders.
I put my head in my hands.
This is going to be a very long day.
***
Jack
Well.
Progress.
Great progress, really.
Because Ciel freezes each time I try to touch him lower—apart from his cute little dick. Only Nolan can usually go to the no-go area. So boy, was I glad last night. I may have gotten carried away, but it was everything.
I don’t regret a thing.
But I really, really need to be inside someone. It’s not necessary, but I really, really want to.
"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR SENSES?!" The king’s booming voice snaps me out of my thoughts.
I’ve never seen the king this pissed off. His face is literally red. Veins standing out on his forehead. His hands are clasped behind his back, but I can see his knuckles are white.
I look at the target.
Duke Roderick stands in the center of the room, still in his military uniform. Medals gleaming. Posture rigid. Face carefully blank.
Surrounded by the council.
I stand slightly behind the crown prince, watching the show.
I’m enjoying the show. Genuinely.
I didn’t even have to do anything, really. Just a few exposed articles, a well-timed leak, and now it’s a complete shitshow.
The king paces the length of the room, his footsteps sharp against the marble. The council members have retreated to the edges, trying to make themselves small, invisible. No one wants to be the next target of his wrath.
There’s something in the Duke’s posture now, a stiffness that wasn’t there before. The rigidity of a man who knows he’s lost but refuses to show it.
"I trusted you," the king says, stopping in front of him. "I appointed you when others said you were too young. I gave you command when others said you were untested. I believed in you."
Richard says nothing.
"And this is how you repay me?" The king’s voice rises. "By tearing the kingdom apart? By turning our own people against us?"
"Your Majesty, I acted in what I believed to be the best interest of—"
"The best interest?" The king cuts him off.
"The best interest?" He repeats, mocking.
"You! Speak."
The man steps forward, clutching a tablet. His hands are trembling slightly. "Your Majesty, the preliminary damage reports are... significant."
"Significant how?"
"Over two hundred businesses looted or destroyed. Thirty-seven confirmed fires. Countless injuries. And the economic impact—" He hesitates, glancing at Richard, then back at the king.
"The economic impact is still being calculated, but early estimates suggest... billions."
The room goes quiet.
You could hear a pin drop.
The king turns back to Richard.
"Do you hear that? Billions."
Silence.
Richard doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. His face is carved from stone, but his hands—his hands are clasped behind his back, and I can see the knuckles going white.
"Billions," the king repeats, softer now.
"It’s not just the monetary value. It’s people’s faith in us. In the nobility. In the crown. In me!"
His voice echoes off the marble walls.
"Because of your stupid actions, you continue."
The man flinches. His tablet wobbles in his hands. He doesn’t speak. No one speaks.
"People are demanding accountability," the king says, quieter now. "And some are... questioning... our current governance."
His voice cracks toward the end.
The king turns to the room. To the council. To Richard. To me.
"Do you hear that?"
Silence.
"Did you all fucking hear that?!" He shouts.
The councilors flinch. This is so entertaining.
The king paces. His footsteps are sharp, angry, echoing off the marble.
"Do you know how many active monarchies are still present in the world?" He doesn’t wait for an answer. "Less than fifty! And over half of them are figureheads!"
He walks toward Richard.
"Everything we domust be squeaky clean. Do you know how many foreign powers have been eyeing Solmere? Our mines? Our resources?" The king’s voice is low, dangerous.
"They need an excuse to swoop in under the guise of helping our citizens. And you—you’re a Roderick."
He jabs his finger at Richard’s chest.
"Roderick the Shield. Roderick the Protector. Roderick, Solmere’s Guard." The king’s voice rises. "Your actions are a disgrace to the name Roderick."
Richard’s perfect poker face cracks.
The king steps back.
"I strip you of your authority as of this moment. Richard Roderick is no longer the Duke of Roderick."