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The Royal Prisoner
Chapter 15
Tom Rizzo was dutifully cleaning the main deck of the `Lisula', a large destroyer that left Rimini, in northern Italy two days earlier. The ship, along with the other ships of the Rebel fleet, sailed through the Strait of Corfu at dawn. It was now past five in the afternoon, and the Greek coast was visible afar.
Tom had been warned their goal was getting dangerously closer. In less than an hour the fleet would encounter the Imperial aircraft carrier and its escort. Tom was nervous, this would be its first battle. He was only a kitchen boy, barely sixteen, but he was excited, and scared. Tom was an Italian who was born and raised in Bologna; therefore he knew very little of the reasons that caused the war.
The `Lisula' was on high alert. Sailors were now crowding the deck and running everywhere. The atmosphere was tense. Tom stopped mopping the floor and observed his surroundings. The blinding sun was low in the sky as the destroyer was fast sailing east. The sea was calm, and Tom was feeling hot. The wind was refreshing him on the deck. This was the first time Tom was aboard a ship. He took this job without his parents' knowing, as an act of rebellion. So far, so good, he thought.
Tom was the first to hear the roaring from afar. It came from the west, and the sun was blinding him. The roaring intensified and soon other sailors noticed. The `Lisula' was the last ship of the fleet, therefore it definitely did not come from another Rebel warship. The sailors kept wondering what caused the noise, and officers nervously shouted at one another.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, Jet fighters flew over the destroyer. First there were only a dozen of them, then another wave, then another wave.
"IMPERIAL PLANES! SHOOT THEM FOR GOODNESS SAKE!" The officer shouted at the sailors. The organised panic seized them and everyone gained their position. The anti-aircraft cannon fired toward the growing swarm of planes that flew all over them. Then the whole fleet understood and the sky was filled with fire and black smoke. For the Rebel's aircraft carrier though, it was already too late. The Imperial jetfighters dived one after the other and bombed it. The carrier was soon a burning wreck.
Tom's heart was beating furiously as he was high on adrenaline, his bulging eyes kept glancing everywhere. The jetfighters were dancing in the sky, bombing and raiding Rebel ships. The cannon kept furiously targeting the planes as sailors and officers alike screamed in military rage. Then, the planes flew over the `Lisula' and their submachines guns fired at the deck. Tom dived behind a mooring post to take shelter and covered his head in panic.
When he eventually had the courage to look around him the deck that he spent the last hour mopping was now drenched in blood. Sailors with disgusting wounds were screaming for help and others were simply lying dead. Tom was horrified, he was frozen by fear and terror. The planes had disappeared from where they appeared, and the cannon had stopped firing. When Tom glanced at the sea, several of the Rebel's ships were on fire, and the aircraft carrier was slowly sinking. The officers were screaming something in French, but Tom barely understood.
"STARBOARD! FLEET STARBOARD!" A sailor screamed. All the sailors froze and fixed the horizon. Tom was horrified to perceive the silhouettes of fast approaching ships afar. He knew the aircraft carrier they were supposed to intercept was escorted by only a few ships. That could not be the said fleet, or he clearly misunderstood that "a few" was supposed to mean more than thirty.
"We are trapped!" Tom heard a sailor scream.
"EVERYONE ON POSITION AT ONCE!" An officer shouted angrily. Tom sensed that even the officers were now deeply disturbed. The kitchen boy witnessed as the rest of the fleet changed to fighting position. The Rebel fleet shot at the Imperial fleet, but they were still too far to be reached and therefore fell short. Then a second wave of jetfighters darkened the sky above the rebel fleet.
Without mercy, the planes harassed the Rebel's warships and bombed them. The cannon shot back but most of them missed their aim as the planes seemed to be dancing on air and easily avoided the anti-aircraft guns. Then Tom noticed it, the Imperial fleet was now within shooting range, and shooting they did. The Imperial warships fired salvoes of heavy guns. Tom dived once more on the floor and heard the cannon miss the ship by an inch. The sea water lifted by the bombs fell back on the `Lisula' deck and soaked Tom. A jetfighter flew right over Tom's head and shot several sailors on the spot.
Tom was now completely lost, he witnessed with shock and horror as the Imperial combined naval and aerial forces pounded the Rebel fleet. The kitchen boy saw some of the Rebel's cannon reach their aim and touch an Imperial ship, but they kept going, undamaged. One after the other, the Rebel ships sank into the sea.
First, a bomb from a jetfighter landed on the stern of the `Lisula' Tom lost balance and fell miserably on the deck. Half of the destroyer was now burning. Then, he saw the unmistakable flash of an Imperial ship firing and he knew they were targeted. In an instant he heard the bomb getting closer, and a loud detonation, and a flash. Tom was laying on his back, he could not hear anything. Tom was stunned and deeply shocked. The teenager slowly came to his senses only to realise the whole ship was on fire and dangerously leaning. As quickly as his condition permitted, Tom straightened up amongst dead sailors' bodies. He crawled to the edge of the bow as far from the fire as he could and waited. After a short moment spent crying alone, covered in blood, the ship leaned too much for Tom to hold on, and the boy fell into the sea.
The sea was filled with oil and smelled terrible. The teenaged sobbed intensely as he swam in all sorts of body fluids the cadavers released. Tom wondered what happened to his best friend that had been enrolled with him in the destroyer's kitchens and cried even more thinking about it. His muscles were sore, he was exhausted, but most of all Tom had lost the will to fight for his life. He thought about his poor parents that would soon learn their only son was killed in someone else's war.
As he was about to give up, however, he felt strong hands grab him and pull him out of the water. He recognised the imperial navy uniforms but was too exhausted to even worry. The teenage boy fell asleep as a blanket was wrapped around him.
"Hey! Boy! Wake up! We need to get you onboard, but we need your help." Someone said in Tom's ears in French. The boy looked around him and the lifeboat was next to a large warship. A man was smiling at him tenderly. "How old are you boy?" The man asked.
"Six... sixteen" Tom eventually answered.
"Sixteen! Wow! I am sure you have a family that awaits you. Let's take you home shall we?" The man then declared. "Do you think you can climb on that scale?" He added, pointing at the scale that led to the large warship. Tom nodded weakly and grabbed the scale, his muscles were sore, and he was in no condition to climb, but the man placed himself just behind him and helped Tom support his own weight. Eventually, Tom found the strength to climb slowly. As he reached the top of the scale he passed by the ship's name, painted in black all over the stern. "HMS Prince Victor".
Tom lost balance and almost fell when he climbed over the ship's guardrail, but he was caught by the man behind him and sailors onboard grabbed him and pulled him on the deck. Tom was safe and sound. He realised that even though his uniform was blood-covered, he was unharmed. The teenage boy shot a glance at the sea. Imperial lifeboats were fishing survivors amongst burning wreckages. Countless dead bodies floated in an ocean of blood, oil and fire. Not a single Rebel ship escaped the trap the Imperial Navy set for them, not one.
Victor's eighteen birthday was something he had been expecting for a long time. When their father died, almost three years earlier, Hector promised his brother a surprise he would remember forever. Throughout his life, Victor had always felt trapped, deprived of his freedom. He knew his brother loved him immensely, but Hector was constantly over-worrying for his baby brother. Therefore, Victor expected his eighteenth birthday to be a deliverance in a way.
Ironically though, destiny had him spend his eighteenth birthday in captivity. Victor thought about his brother and what he could have possibly planned for this special day. The boy was heartbroken to be deprived from him. Worse, he had no idea when he would be reunited with Hector, if ever.
However, there was no way he could avoid being reminded of it. Throughout the day he had to put on a brave face and warmly thank all that wished him a very happy birthday. Alexandre tried his best to save the day as he quickly understood the prince was heartbroken, but there was little he could do.
The prince had been warned by Paul that he was to attend a state banquet in Jerusalem in the evening. That was the last thing he wanted to do, but of course he was not asked, only respectfully summoned. Curiously, Prince Muhammad did not pay him a visit that day. Victor spent the day dawdling around the pool, swimming alone and sunbathing. Surrounded but lonely, such was the fate of the teenage prince.
It was five in the afternoon when Paul came back to the villa. Victor was laying on a deckchair by the pool on his back, sunbathing.
"If you keep tanning every day, your highness, people will think you are a prince of a much more southern part of the world." The lieutenant teased. Paul was sweating profusely in his uniform and envied the prince semi nakedness. The temperature was extremely hot and the sun had been baking him all day long.
"Maybe people will eventually believe we are related then?" Commented the prince with a smirk.
"Maybe we have not reached that point yet? Anyway, it is time for you to get ready for the banquet." Paul announced.
"Already?" Victor whined with obvious disappointment.
"I am afraid so, yes." Paul confirmed. "Could you help his Imperial Highness get dressed?" He then asked Alexandre.
"Certainly, lieutenant" Alexandre answered. Victor sighted and got off his deckchair. He followed Alexandre inside the villa and they both climbed the stairs.
Once inside the prince's bedroom Alexandre picked the prince's official uniform and laid it down on the bed cautiously. Victor stripped off his swimsuit and was now fully naked in front of his bodyguard. Alexandre quickly glanced at the sight but kept a straight face.
"Maybe you should get a quick shower to rinse yourself" Alexandre suggested scrutinizing the prince.
"Yes I guess you're right" Victor approved before walking to the bathroom, waddling his bubble but from left to right. He turned the water and did not bother waiting for it to be warm, he quickly applied shower gel all over his body while Alexandre waited for him in the bedroom. The prince then rinsed and grabbed a towel before going back to the bedroom.
"When was the last time you had a haircut, Your Highness?" Alexandre asked, glancing at the long curly blond hair.
"Do not call me that when we are alone!" Victor snaped. "It was a long time ago actually! Probably at least two months"
"Wouldn't you like me to try to make your hair look a little more decent, Your Highness?" The bodyguard teased provocatively.
"Stop! That's not funny! I hate it!" The prince angrily complained.
"Why do you hate it so much? I am quite proud to call you my prince!" Alexandre asked tenderly.
"Is that all I am to you? Your prince?" Victor shot back. "Well, you are much more than a damn bodyguard to me!" He added with watery eyes.
"Victor..." Alexandre pleaded. "You know you are much more than a job or a title to me! So much more." Victor turned away and hid his face as he burst into tears.
"I know. I know, sorry! I am just very tired" Victor mumbled between sobs. Alexandre was deeply moved and with his hand he reached for the prince's hair. Victor turned back to face him and hugged the bodyguard tightly. "I miss Hector so much! It hurts, everyday it hurts more." The prince cried. Alexandre wrapped his arms around the naked prince and held him against his muscled body. Alexandre kissed the prince's temple and comforted him just like when he was still a little boy, and to him he still was in a way.
"Now let's get dressed and I will take care of that hair of yours" Alexandre eventually said as the prince stopped crying. Victor nodded shyly and the bodyguard tenderly kissed his forehead.
Meticulously, Alexandre helped Victor don his Imperial uniform. After he was fully dressed, he arranged the prince's curly blond hair to make it look presentable. When the result was satisfactory enough, they both joined Paul downstairs.
"Shall we go, Your Highness?" The lieutenant asked as the prince went down the stairs. Victor nodded slightly and Alexandre smiled at him warmly. Reluctantly, the prince followed Paul and they both got in the car that was parked by the porch.
Victor was not in the mood for a state banquet by any means. However, he was excited at the idea of meeting Hadrien there. He knew they would get no privacy and probably exchange no more than a few words, but he missed him greatly. The general attracted him like no one else. Throughout the banquet his lustful eyes could devour him, and perhaps he would be able to negotiate sleeping in Jerusalem with him. Yes, the prince was very eager to spend the evening with Hadrien, and this prospect gave him something to rejoice for.
Paul was in a good mood and he was humming joyfully. The prince and he did some small talk during the car trip and Victor felt that this could actually be a pleasant evening after all. When the car entered the ancient city of Jerusalem, the prince was delighted to smell the appealing scent of street food and to hear the uproar of the busy paved alleys.
Soon the car parked in front of a large building and a soldier opened Victor's door. The prince got out of the car and was greeted by the Earl of Ulmetu.
"Your Highness, it is a great privilege to finally meet you! I am Lord Mondoloni, Earl of Ulmetu" He said as he introduced himself.
"Lord Mondoloni, pleasure is all mine." Victor politely answered.
"May I escort you inside?" The earl proposed to the prince as he offered his arm. The prince nodded and they both got inside a great pompous hall. The earl took the prince to a reception room where they were both announced.
"His Imperial Highness, the Prince Victor of Corsica. And Lord Mondoloni, Earl of Ulmetu." The usher intonned. The large reception room suddenly fell silent as the prince and the earl entered. Victor immediately glanced at the room to find the general, but he did not find him. Everyone was staring at him and the prince felt intimidated.
"Prince Victor, you are very handsome tonight! Happy Birthday son!" The Calif of Arabia exclaimed as he came to greet him.
"Thank you, Your Majesty." Victor answered shyly. The Calif grabbed the prince's shoulder friendly and broadly smiled. "Is Prince Muhammad here?" The prince inquired.
"No, I am afraid not son. But you will see him tomorrow!" The Calif declared. A bell rang inside the reception room and the Calif turned to Victor. "Well I think it is time for dinner! I am starving!" The Calif declared laughing before shamelessly snatching Victor from the Earl of Ulmetu and escorting him to the diner table.
Unlike the previous time, when Victor was sat at the end of the banquet table. He took place as the guest of honour, at the right of the Calif who was presiding the banquet. Suddenly, Hadrien appeared from nowhere and stood at the prince's right. Victor felt his heart jump from his chest, and he blushed furiously. Hadrien smiled at him and when everyone was ready, they all sat.
"Happy Birthday, Your Highness!" Hadrien finally said after they sat.
"Thank you, General" Victor answered shyly. Feeling Hadrien's presence next to his gave him goosebumps. The general seemed somehow unsettled and uncomfortable. Perhaps he was still mad about Sasha, the prince thought, or perhaps he was just very cautious because they were at a formal occasion. Eventually the waiters poured Champagne in their glasses and the Calif proposed a toast.
"As I stand here before you, I am deeply moved by what we have accomplished. Together, we brought peace to the Middle East. Together we reunited the great Empire of Corsica and the Califate of Arabia. The Western and Eastern civilisations were bound to eventually marry and build a better future of harmonious relationship between cultures, nations, and religions! Corsica and Arabia have the most brilliant, the most exhilarating future ahead of them. Together, and with the help of our allies, our two great Nations will bring stability and prosperity to the Mediterranean Sea. Now please join me to celebrate and raise your glass. For the marriage of our great Nations, but most of all, for the Emperor of Corsica!"
"For the Emperor!" The audience shouted in unison. Victor was dumbfounded, and even though he kept his composure he almost choked on his drink. A toast to the Emperor? Here? He was lost and failed to understand the meaning of it all. Did the rebellion have a sudden change of heart? Then, the Earl of Ulmetu stood and did a speech of his own. He praised the union between Corsica and Arabia as well and delivered a very dull and uninspiring speech. However, the earl also concluded with a "Long live our Emperor", and Victor was flabbergasted. The prince dared hoping that the Rebellion was finally negotiating terms with his brother.
After these endless, and quite surprising, toasts were over, the dinner was finally served. The prince could smell Hadrien's intoxicating scent, but he dared not touch him. The frustration of being so close yet being forced to keep a straight face was killing him. He wanted nothing more but to jump on the general, to kiss his lips, his neck, his ears. He passionately desired to caress Hadrien's developed chest and rub his hand against his abs.
Hadrien, however, kept silent throughout the dinner. The Calif was the prince's sole company. Victor was feeling increasingly down as he realised more and more that the general would keep ignoring him. As a consequence, the prince lost appetite. He kept shooting glances at his silent neighbours but Hadrien kept avoiding eye contact. After two hours spent trying to get the general's attention, the dinner came to an end. Everyone stood and left the table to go back to the reception room, but an usher came to the prince and halted him.
"Your Highness, you are awaited in the meeting room." The usher announced. Victor was taken aback but knew he had no choice but to follow him.
The guards opened the double doors and Victor entered the meeting room. In the middle a large circular table was placed. Several people were sitting around the table. Victor recognised some of them; the Calif, the Earl of Ulmetu, Hadrien, the Lady of Tyr, the President of Sidon, and some other heads of States and representatives Victor had met during the first banquet in Jerusalem a week earlier.
"My Lords, my Ladies." Victor greeted politely. Everyone was staring at him expectantly. The prince was scrutinized but most of all, he was ignorant of the reason for his presence in this room.
"Your Highness." The Earl of Ulmetu eventually said. "Would you be kind enough to help us with something?"
"How can I help you, my Lord?" Victor asked shyly.
"There is something I would like you to sign, it is just a formality actually." The earl declared with a sweet voice. "Why don't you take a seat?" He then proposed. Hesitantly, the prince walked to the table and sat beside the earl. "Here, have a look and then just sign under your name"
Victor cautiously took the document he was presented with. It was named "Treaty concerning the fair distribution and administration of the Judean territories and establishing mandates over the international city of Jerusalem". He turned the pages and quickly read the chapter titles without getting into the details, this whole vocabulary and technical phrasing was a bit too complex for him, but he understood the general idea. Then he reached the final page.
The final page was only the signatures. Every states parties had already filled their signatures, all but one; Corsica. Victor's eyes grew wide with confusion as he read "Empire of Corsica : Imperator Victor Pater Patriae" translating to `Emperor Victor, Father of the Nation'.
Suddenly Victor realised they were not cheering to Emperor Hector III a few hours ago in that banquet room, they were cheering to Emperor Victor, himself. With the greatest disgust he pushed the treaty back.
"There must be a mistake, Corsica already has an Emperor, and that Emperor is not me." Victor then solemnly stated. He then turned his head to look at Hadrien and their eyes met. Victor was sick in his stomach and felt betrayed.
"You are eighteen today, Your Majesty." The earl answered. "It is time you grow up and take responsibility" He added threateningly.
"Oh really, my Lord?" The prince exclaimed. "Are you dreaming of yourself as a king-maker? I suggest you crawl to my brother and beg for your miserable life instead. I pleaded allegiance to him, and I am a man of my words. I am not signing this garbage." He declared with contempt. The head of states and governments around the table watched the scene silently with shocked expressions on their face. Except for the Lady of Tyr that displayed a satisfactory smile.
"You will sign this treaty boy! May I remind His Majesty that he is not a guest here, but a prisoner! You will do as we command you!" The earl shot back furious. Hadrien was getting more and more nervous and was frantically shaking his leg against the table. Victor had tears of anger coming and he was exhilarated with rage.
"I would rather die a million times than bear the dishonour of serving as the Emperor of a confederacy of pathetic scums and failed politicians. Your miserable rebellion is nothing but a fucking joke that is doomed to fail in the most embarrassing way! My brother is a more of a man than all your incompetent officers reunited, I am absolutely positive your little adventure will end as quickly as it started, and when the war will be over and won I will personally watch you bounce at the end of a rope with the rest of your line." Victor shouted to the earl. "You knew! You knew about it all didn't you?" The prince then screamed at the top of his lungs to Hadrien.
"Your Majesty... I was..." Hadrien started.
"Your Majesty? YOUR MAJESTY? Is this what you are going to call me the next time you FUCK ME?" Victor interrupted. "YOU FUCKING TRAITOR! You tricked me into believing you liked me, you seduced me! It was all part of a fucking political move!" He continued with increasing rage and disbelief. Hadrien watched powerless as he witnessed the prince losing it.
"That is ENOUGH!" The earl shouted. He grabbed the prince by the wrist and with his other hand tried to force the pencil in Victor's palm. "You will sign this treaty you spoiled kid! Whether you like it OR NOT!"
"Get off me now, you disgusting worm" Victor grunted while struggling to break the earl's grip. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" He screamed.
"GUARDS! Seize him, NOW!" The earl shouted. The soldiers ran to the table and manhandled the teenage boy.
"Son! Please! Just sign the treaty!" The Calif pleaded as Victor was furiously struggling and gesticulating.
"NEVER!" Victor answered with passion. "KILL ME! KILL ME HADRIEN YOU COWARD!"
"Just sign instead of him then! Please let the boy go and sign instead of him" The Calif then suggested, distressed by the brutality. The earl grabbed a fistful of Victor's curly hair and smashed his head against the table.
"SIGN IT NOW!" Lord Mondoloni repeated.
"Get off me NOW! You are hurting me!" Victor pleaded angrily. The earl used his forearm to pressure the prince's throat against the table.
"SIGN THE DAMN TREATY!" The earl shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Let him go for god's sake! The boy cannot breathe!" The Calif begged in panic. Victor's face was slowly turning red and his eyes were bulging. "Let him go!!" The Calif insisted as he was prevented by the guards to intervene. Victor's face was darkening and turning blue.
Hadrien watched the unfolding scene with increasing nervousness. He was deeply upset to witness Victor in such an emotional distress, but he knew what his responsibilities as a general were. He was torn apart and the pressure was killing him. Throughout his life, Hadrien made countless sacrifices to finally get there. He renounced everything, love, family, friendship. He gave it all to his military career. He would not let a boy stand in the way of a brilliant future as the great leader he was to become. No, that was out of the question. Yet, he could not bear the sight of Victor being brutalised. Hadrien felt the urge to save him, to protect him. The pressure was too intense for him to withstand. His heart was beating fast, his breath was getting intense, his hands were clenched. He glanced at the prince's body getting limp and suddenly he could not stand it anymore.
"Let him go, Lord Mondoloni." Hadrien commanded calmly.
"I do not obey you, General Ciabrini! The boy will sign the damn treaty! TONIGHT!" The earl shot back with anger. In a quick move, Hadrien drew his dagger and quickly placed it by the earl's throat.
"I said; Let him go! You have hearing problems old man?" The general repeated threateningly. "I will not repeat myself! LET HIM GO!"
The earl slowly released the pressure and the prince slipped unconscious on the floor. Hadrien glanced at Victor's body lying by the table and sensed anger growing in him. The general was mostly angry at himself, for being the pathetic coward Victor described.
"You dare threaten me?" The earl exclaimed outraged. "I will get you into martial court! You arrogant idiot!" He threatened.
"The prince will do as he pleases. We will sign the treaty without him!" The general argued, trying to calm down Lord Mondoloni.
"HE WILL SIGN!" The earl shouted back. Suddenly, something snapped in Hadrien, he stopped caring for the consequences of his actions and with all his might, he slapped the earl in the face. The earl lost balance and was thrown to the ground. The guards watched dumbfounded and unsure what to do, glancing at one another.
"Oh yeah?" Hadrien said to the earl that was now rubbing his reddened cheek with shock. "Says who? You stupid piece of shit, I am the commander of the army! Who are you? A low rank aristocrat? A deposed senator?"
"Guards! GUARDS! SEIZE HIM!" The earl commanded. The guards stayed still, panicked, and Hadrien watched them with defiance, daring them to try. A whisper grew around the table and the heads of states and governments watched baffled at the scene in front of them.
"You are trying to command my men, old man?" Hadrien mocked with an evil laugh. "You were not even able to convince your wife and sons to join the rebellion with you!" He added. "Damn, you were not even able to convince a boy to sign a piece of paper moments ago!" As the general humiliated the earl, the Calif was kneeling beside the prince and helping him regain consciousness. Suddenly, Victor opened his eyes and took a deep breath.
"It's alright son! Everything is fine!" The Calif said reassuringly. "Get me some water!" He commanded a guard that immediately gave him one of the small bottles that was on the table. "Here, drink!" He advised.
The prince was lost and panicked but slowly he remembered what happened. His eyes filled with tears as he glanced at the general. He betrayed him beyond everything he imagined. He duped him. He toyed him. Victor's throat was sore, and his mouth was dry. He gulped some water from the bottle.
"I do not wish to treat with this barbarian ever again General Ciabrini!" The Calif angrily declared pointing at the Earl of Ulmetu still lying on the floor and rubbing his cheek. "Do you understand me? If he is to be involved in the deal then we are OUT!"
"I agree with His Majesty" The Lady of Tyr announced. "Such disgusting actions should not remain unpunished!"
"Guards! Seize the Earl of Ulmetu and lock him in an empty room at the General Quarters. Handcuff him as well!" Hadrien commanded as the guards promptly obeyed him.
"You traitor! YOU COWARD! Letting foreigners decide for you! SHAMEFUL! What will you tell the Supreme General? Oh, just you wait!" The earl screamed as he was manhandled and handcuffed by the same guards that helped him brutalize the prince. Hadrien grabbed the earl by the neck and pinned him against the wall.
"What will I tell him? Uh? You assaulted a prince of Imperial blood, you strangled him until he lost consciousness! I should shoot you on the spot for your crime! However, I will let the Supreme General decide your fate in due time. In the meantime, you shall remain under arrest for high treason and crime of lease majesty." The general exclaimed. He gestured to the guards to take the earl away. As they escorted the prisoner outside of the meeting room Hadrien turned back to the heads of states and government. He grabbed a feather pen and signed all the treaty's copies on behalf of Corsica on his name.
"I hate you." Victor mumbled while massaging his sore throat. The general turned to the prince and saw in his eyes that he truly meant it. Hadrien's heart broke.
"I know." The general answered with a lump in his throat. Hadrien finished signing all the papers and each head of state or government left the meeting room with their copies of the signed treaty.
"I would like to take the boy back to our place in Jerusalem" The Calif asked the general as he was about to leave the room.
"No, I am afraid that won't be possible, Your Majesty." Hadrien declined. The Calif nodded, disappointed, smiled at Victor and left the room.
The prince was left alone with Hadrien, something he had wished throughout the evening. Now, however, he could not even bear to look at him. The general disgusted him, he hated him with passion.
"Victor, I am sorry." Hadrien apologised with a sweet tone.
"Save your pity! I have no use for it." The prince snapped with a hoarse voice. Suddenly, the meeting room's doors opened, and Major Graziani walked in with a serious look.
"Your Highness, General." He greeted. "Sir, we have received a report from the hunting party that tracked down the Imperial aircraft carrier." He announced with a stern look.
"Yes?" The general answered.
"Sir," Major Graziani said painfully before gulping. "I am afraid it is not good news."
"The carrier escaped?" The general asked, irritated.
"General, our fleet had been trapped." The major explained. "The aircraft carrier was bait, our allies in Corsica were duped. The whole Imperial Navy awaited them. In secret, they produced a new type of destroyer. The `Prince Victor class' General." The major said while shooting a glance at the prince that smiled at the mention of his name being used for Imperial warships.
"A trap?" Hadrien repeated astonished. "How bad did it went?" He nervously asked.
"Well, Sir, I, Uh..." The major stuttered.
"How bad, Major?!" Hadrien insisted.
"I am afraid no ship could escape. Both Admiral Corre and Admiral Balesi's fleet were sunk, entirely." The major eventually confessed. "The survivors have been captured; all the others are dead. We have no fleet left, not a single ship except the one being repaired in Jaffa at the moment."
Hadrien's world crumbled altogether. Without their fleet all was lost. The rebellion was doomed to fail, it was only a matter of time now. The general was stunned, his empty eyes stared straight. Victor was torn apart; he was glad the rebellion eventually got what they deserved. But on the other hand, he felt bad for Hadrien.
"Thank you, Major" Hadrien eventually said. "Gather all the officers, we are going back to the General Quarters. Also tell my chauffeur I am going back immediately. That will be all"