I. Panic and Pursuit
Vael stared at the two massive Royal Guards. His poetic high instantly evaporated, replaced by a cold dread.
Princess? I didn't get a sweet, simple wife; I got a political incident!
He began to babble, the terror making his words incoherent. "Sorry! Mistake! My apologies! I was just... I was checking if she was married! I thought she was a nice girl! I don't know why I recited the poetry! It's not my fault, it's the Divine Contract! I'm just a writer!"
The Head Guard, seeing Vael's erratic behavior, drew his sword. "Silence, sorcerer! This is black magic! I must eliminate you before you further corrupt Princess Kira!"
Princess Kira instantly leaped forward, shielding Vael with her body. "No! If you harm my Poet King, you must kill me first! I am his, and his alone!"
The two Royal Guards froze. Killing the Princess's assailant was one thing; accidentally harming the Princess herself was a crime punishable by the complete annihilation of their entire family lineage.
"Take him to the King," the Head Guard ordered, his voice strained with panic. "Let His Majesty decide this strange matter!"
The Guards roughly grabbed Vael, holding him high and tight under their arms, carrying him like a struggling, prized animal.
"Father will understand!" Princess Kira chirped, following happily. "He will see how charming you are, my love!"
II. The Harem Wakes Up
Back at the private house, the five wives woke up to a chaotic morning. The wine bottles were empty, and the VOPP charts were scattered. The room smelled faintly of stale wine and regret.
"Vael!" Astra roared, checking his bed. "He's gone! He abandoned us for a statistical detour!"
Lyra's eyes widened in horror. "The VOPP has been compromised! Who took him? Did the Rival Clan penetrate the Capital?"
The four warrior wives rushed outside and confronted a tavern worker sweeping the street.
"Man! Tell us! Have you seen our Consort? Our husband?" Astra demanded, grabbing the worker's collar.
The worker looked at the five powerful, beautiful, and utterly terrifying women. He stuttered: "H-H-Husband? Whose husband? You mean the... the little man? The one who looks like a skinny monkey? The one who looks like he's about to die if you look at him too hard?"
The wives' faces darkened.
"The one with the clothes that don't match his body?" the worker added. "He was with a very beautiful girl. He took her outside to recite poetry."
The wives exchanged terrified glances. He didn't get kidnapped; he went off to make a new wife!
"Which girl?" Serana demanded, her strategic calm cracking.
"I don't know! I think she just arrived here herself," the worker said, pointing vaguely towards the Palace.
The wives immediately rushed off, their concern now a mix of panic and profound, possessive annoyance.
III. The King's Court
Vael was dragged into the grand Royal Hall, where King Aerion and his entire court were seated. He was still dangling between the two Guards. The Guards held Vael high and tight, carrying him like a struggling, prized animal. He felt like a kidnapped, slightly sticky flag.
"Father!" Princess Kira cried. "This is the man! My Poet King! He spoke the truth of my heart! I must marry him!"
King Aerion, a large man with a weary expression, glared down. "This vagrant, daughter? This... creature? Guards, put him down."
Vael was unceremoniously dropped. He looked up, his face pale with fear, and saw the dozens of silent, powerful nobles staring at him, along with the very large, very angry King.
The King spoke slowly: "Vagrant. You have corrupted my daughter with your words. You leave me no choice. I must execute you."
"No, Father!" Princess Kira cried, stepping forward. "Then you must execute me first! I will not live without my love!"
The King looked utterly exasperated. "You think I won't, child? I will kill you both! I have a whole Royal line to protect!"
Vael realized this was the end. His entire life was about to be snuffed out by an exasperated King.
A reckless thought hit him: If poetry got me into this, only poetry can get me out.
Vael stood up, ignoring the swords behind him. He looked directly at King Aerion.
"Your Majesty," Vael said, his voice surprisingly steady, fueled by pure, survival terror. "You say I have corrupted your daughter. I say I have only spoken the truth. You wish to execute me? Very well. But before you pass judgment, allow me to speak one more poem."
Vael's voice rose with an oratorical flair he hadn't known he possessed. "If, after hearing it, you still believe I deserve death, then let me die a poet! But know this: I have nothing to hide. If my words are magic, let all the court be judged by them!"
A profound silence descended upon the Royal Hall. The only sound was the King's slow, heavy breathing and the faint metallic clink of the Guards shifting their weight. The pause felt like an eternity.
The King, intrigued by the sheer audacity, leaned forward. "Speak, vagrant. Make it quick."
Vael closed his eyes and poured all his fear, his panic, and his desperate need for respect into his final, most dangerous performance.