Coronation (2)

Antonius couldn't hide his astonishment when the young Anatolian Ottoman prince, Ali, approached him, his head bowed in a gesture of respect and submission. The prince's pride was seemingly subdued, yet beneath his courteous veneer, a seething hatred simmered.

"Your Majesty," Ali spoke, his voice laced with a forced reverence that thinly veiled his contempt. "With utmost respect, may I take the reins for your chariot in this grand parade, to honour the greatest event this country has witnessed?"

Caught off guard but swiftly regaining his composure, Antonius realised this move must be the craft of the boy's father. With a knowing smile, he extended the reins to the young prince.

"Certainly," he replied, a gesture that spoke volumes about his political acumen, but in the eyes of the young Ali, this posture just seemed like nothing but a smile from the devil himself, handling out a devil's hook, leashing him.