At this point, Agares paused for a mont, then covered his mouth, pretending to sympathize, "Oh... So you’re scheduled for lessons at Kensington Palace today? Even though you look furious, you obviously haven’t forgotten who holds the little whip— the Royal Family’s little Princess is still waiting for you to play nanny."
Arthur turned back, staring at the Red Devil for a while, then snorted coldly, "I’m not going to class today."
"Oh?" Agares dragged out his words, "Daring to skip class without Eld accompanying you? Arthur, over the years, you’ve indeed grown!"
"I’m not going to work today." Arthur gritted his teeth, pronouncing each word as if he had pebbles in his mouth, "I’m going to beat the bastards."
"Beat who?"
Arthur didn’t answer, rely standing at the doorway for two seconds. He spun his hat as if giving himself a command.
He pushed the door open and went out, his movents crisp and precise, boots pounding on the wooden floor with a thud.
Agares whistled from behind. The Red Devil, not caring whether Arthur wanted his company, stubbornly followed along. Looking at him, it seed he was determined to see which bastards Arthur planned to beat today.
Since Agares knew Arthur, this foolish boy was always like this—cursing the world all the while seeking revenge for the dead.
However, if he weren’t such a person, the Red Devil might be too lazy to follow him around. To demons, people too pale or too dark held no interest.
When Agares saw the cab Arthur was in turn into Trafalgar Square, he thought Arthur might head to Parliant or the Ho Office to raise a ruckus. But as the beckoned black-topped cab turned onto Marlo Street, then sped along Whitehall Road towards Knight Bridge, finally stopping slowly in front of the towering gates of Kensington Palace—Agares, for a mont, felt completely dumbfounded.
"You cowardly boy, you’re actually going into the Palace?" The Red Devil jumped in anger, "With so many bastards around, you chose to beat a fifteen-year-old girl?"
He spun around in place three tis, like an owl trapped on a treetop.
The next mont, he suddenly felt like soone slapped him on the back, his entire face flushing red as if set ablaze by a furnace, while his mouth twitched into a ghastly grin.
"Ha... Ha... Hahaha! So that’s what it is!" Agares muttered to himself, propping one hand against the wall while slapping his thigh with the other, "Speech writing, of course, speech writing! No wonder the assignnts for the past few lessons were all about writing speeches. Damn it! Why didn’t I think of this earlier?"
He rembered it too well.
Three days earlier, in his study at ho, Arthur had been sharpening a quill while muttering over Victoria’s howork, "The logic isn’t clear enough, the emotion isn’t moving enough... Can’t just copy Tennyson’s poems, need to learn to write sincere speeches, speeches that can truly move the public, like Fox’s that could shake Westminster Palace. Of course, I’m not saying you should plant dynamite in the Parliant cellar..."
Back then, Agares hadn’t thought much of it, assuming Arthur was simply prepping for his classes while having one of his fits. But thinking back now, he realized the guy might have been strategizing all along!
"You sly little fox in pig’s clothing! You filthy, vile sewer rat!" Agares cursed through gritted teeth, yet on his face was a look that was either admiration or schadenfreude, "Oh no no no, this isn’t just about beating the bastards—my dear Arthur, you intend to use Kensington Palace’s hand to wield the Black Ebony Stick and stab White Hall..."
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