Supreme Spouse System.

Chapter 657: A King Who Chooses His Own Chains

A King Who Chooses His Own Chains

Leon added, "And unlike nobles, my wives won’t betray me."

Quietly came the words, nearly offhand in their delivery.

To Ronan, though, their burden felt like cold metal chains dragging behind.

It wasn’t the shock that mattered.

It wasn’t their intensity that did it.

Yet their honesty stood out beyond doubt.

For a moment, Ronan stayed quiet. Then silence stretched before any words came.

A glance was all it took toward Leon.

Frozen, her gaze held his. This was no conqueror crowned in a week’s time.

Nothing like the beast folk mutter of near fires at dusk.

He was nothing like the boy king who broke old families in a single stroke.

His eyes met Leon’s, seeing him grown. Not a boy anymore, but someone shaped by time. A presence he could not ignore.

A man once standing empty-handed. He began without a thing, yet moved forward anyway.

A fire consumed everything he knew, leaving only smoke behind. The flames took more than wood and walls - they carried away laughter, memories, shadows in the hallway. He stood there, feet rooted, eyes unblinking. Nothing moved except the ash swirling in the wind. That moment stuck, like soot under fingernails.

A name would surface when he dug the earth. Sometimes it stayed there, humming beneath his ribs. Each face reappeared as soil fell away. Silence followed him after every grave was filled.

A lesson carved deep - trust often slashes whoever dares to grip it tight.

Fresh air hit different now, thought Ronan, as a weight pressed just beneath his chest.

Fear was absent. Doubt never showed up.

Recognition.

His fingers slid down, inch by inch, away from his ribs. The motion felt stiff, like something waking up after too long still.

"Your Majesty," he began, voice measured, every syllable placed like a footfall on cracking frost, "has anyone told them about it?"

Leon’s lips curved into a faint smile.

Not proud.

Not teasing.

Certain.

"They don’t."

Ronan kept looking at him. His eyes did not move away.

Leon continued calmly, "But once they come here... they will."

Overhead, a soft wind set the leaves trembling. A rustle began where stillness had been moments before.

Faint whispers of water slipped along the carved rock paths.

One stayed silent. Then the other did too.

A quiet exhale slipped out of Ronan.

Just like that. Totally his way of doing things.

Leon had always been this way.

Before He Became King of Silver City

Once upon a time, his land was tiny, broke, yet boxed in by foes...

Off the leash, Leon moved without asking. He simply began before anyone could say no.

Last thing on their mind was agreement.

He decided.

After that came real steps. He moved what was imagined into actual doing.

Unpredictable. Yet unshakeable.

A small grin tugged at Ronan’s lips - soft, a little lost. It hung there like it didn’t know whether to stay.

"I trust your judgment regarding the ministries, my lord."

Facing a bit more in his direction, Leon shifted.

Warmth, just barely there, brushed against his eyes. I understand that about you

Their gazes met.

No praise was given. Acting did not happen.

Years passed. Trust formed through shared wounds instead of words. What held them together wasn’t spoken - only lived.

A cough broke from Ronan as he steered away, words slipping in just before quiet took hold.

"By the way... how much longer before they arrive?"

Far off looked Leon’s gaze, sliding past Ronan.

Past the courtyard.

Beyond the stone boundary. The old gate stood silent behind.

Beyond the edge of sight, broken places stretch out quietly. Hidden by distance, scarred but still there. Far off where eyes can’t reach, old wounds remain open. Out past what we see, damage lingers without sound.

"As you know," Leon said, "King Gary is still locked in war with King Aurelian of Moonstone."

Ronan nodded.

"Reports say neither side is willing to retreat."

Fists clenched just beneath his ribs. A breath held too long behind teeth.

"And also, Aurelian is afraid."

A flicker of surprise lifted one eyebrow on Ronan’s face.

"Afraid of what?"

A sound came out of Leon - sharp, without laughter.

"Afraid of losing his throne the same way Gary lost his capital."

Light broke across Ronan’s face. From somewhere deep, a soft laugh slipped out.

"So, Moonstone has tightened internal control."

"Yes," Leon said. "Heavy patrols. Restricted movement. Constant inspection of large caravans."

"What about Gary?" Ronan said.

"Gary has ordered nearly every remaining loyal force to stay on the warfront," Leon replied. "He’s obsessed with crushing Aurelian."

Ronan’s expression darkened.

"That leaves Vellore’s internal defenses thin."

Leon nodded.

"And it makes large movements... visible."

Ronan exhaled slowly.

Fingers tucked tight across his chest, Leon held himself still.

"My wives, Natasha, and Silver City’s and Blackthrone city’s people are traveling with a sizable escort. If they travel through known or direct routes..."

Finding the issue didn’t take long for Ronan.

"Aurelian’s intelligence network will notice."

"Exactly."

Ronan ran a hand over his jaw. His fingers paused just below the edge of his face.

"So they’re taking indirect routes. Breaking into small groups for travel."

A slight dip of Leon’s chin broke the stillness. The movement came slow, almost unnoticed. Then quiet settled again.

"They’re avoiding the main roads. Moving through fragmented paths and backways."

"That slows them down."

"A little."

His eyes found Leon again. What kind of timeline did that mean?

"More than a week in total," Leon replied. "But they’ve already covered over half the distance."

A look of caution crossed Ronan’s face. What happens next?

Fingers lifted, just a pair. Two days, he said. Maybe three if it stretched

Ronan blinked.

Two days.

Crossing semi-hostile territory.

When there are many people together.

Marches happened because they had no choice.

pre-cleared routes.

Elite escorts.

This wasn’t something Leon had simply mapped out.

It was something he figured out already.

Ronan exhaled slowly.

"So... it means I just have to endure two more days."

Leon smirked faintly. "You don’t have a choice."

Laughter slipped out before he could stop it. That memory tugged at him again.

"Your Majesty... Lady Alina."

He looked at Leon again. What of her?

A shadow crossed Ronan’s face. His eyes narrowed slightly, losing their earlier ease.

"As per her latest report, she has been effective."

A flicker of doubt crossed Leon’s face. What exactly did you mean by effective

"She has persuaded multiple noble houses to submit."

Leon nodded slowly.

"And the rest?"

Ronan hesitated.