TWO PRETTY BESTIES

"YOUR MAJESTY, I've heard from Count Sprouse that the rebels would be publicly executed soon."

"That's true," Nikolai said, then he returned to his seat with a bottle of whisky. "But I didn't call you here to talk about the rebels, Rufus."

Rufus, seated on the chair across from him, suddenly looked tensed.

"Relax," he told his cousin as he poured whiskey into Rufus's glass.

"Your Majesty, you don't have to do that for me," Rufus said, flustered that he was pouring alcohol for him instead of the other way around. After all, he was the emperor. "Please let me pour our drinks."

That was exactly the reason why only Rufus was allowed in the royal parlor at the moment.

If his butler saw that he was serving his cousin a drink, the poor old man would probably have a heart attack.