C3 There Was No Worst, Only the Worst!

Doyle's face lit up with joy in an instant.

In the Elves Empire, the two he was closest to were undoubtedly his second brother, Rodley Serlach, and the High Priest, Solan.

Now that Rodley had arrived, Doyle finally had someone to confide in.

"Sormy, go greet my brother Rodley!"

On second thought, he decided, "Actually, I'll welcome him myself."

"No need! I'm already here!" Rodley's booming voice made the windows rattle.

Doyle often thought his brother seemed less like an elf and more like a towering dragon.

Some people simply have no concept of volume; they're incapable of speaking softly.

Their whispers could drown out the shouts of others.

In a classroom, whispering with someone like that would be an utter catastrophe.

And Rodley was exactly that kind of guy.

He was forthright, not as calculating as their older brother, and being close in age to Doyle, they had grown up playing together and were very close.

The sound of Rodley's robust laughter lifted Doyle's spirits.

Whether or not he could help with Doyle's troubles, Rodley was sure to lighten his mood.

Doyle swung the door open, ushered Rodley inside, and instructed Sormy to stay away from the room.

But that wasn't enough.

Rodley's voice could pierce walls, so Doyle had to ensure it wouldn't carry all the way to the palace.

He cast a soundproofing spell for good measure.

Rodley's looks did fit the high elves' aesthetic perfectly: handsome and graceful, a stark contrast to his boisterous personality and voice.

Every time Doyle saw his brother, he couldn't shake the feeling that it was as if Zhang Fei's soul had somehow ended up in Zhou Yu's body.

Just imagine Zhou Yu charging across the Yangtze Bridge, bellowing commands, and you'd have a pretty good idea of what kind of elf this Second Prince was.

Doyle motioned for Rodley to sit across from him and was about to pour tea when Rodley produced a bottle of rum from his pocket.

"Rum, the favorite of pirates. It's strong and hits fast."

Leaning in, Rodley winked and said, "My dear brother, I know you're in need of a good, stiff drink, and nothing fits the bill quite like rum."

Doyle didn't object.

Indeed, if the problem was unsolvable, losing his reason might not be such a bad alternative.

He dumped the tea into a nearby flowerpot and set two fine porcelain cups before them.

The room fell silent as they drank.

Rodley, aware of Doyle's woes, teased, "Brother, they say the Devil Clan's women are quite the experience. You're in for a treat."

"Are you referring to that delightful scent of brimstone from hell?" Doyle retorted.

Rodley's laughter shook the glass again.

He lowered his voice, still chuckling, "My good brother, if you can still crack jokes, things can't be that bad. So, have you come to terms with the Devil Clan girl?"

Doyle replied dryly, "Whether I accept her or not, can our father be swayed?"

"Sorry, he cannot."

In unison, they declared, "He is the emperor, the iron-fisted ruler. His word is law."

They exchanged a knowing look and smiled. It was an old joke between them, a way to mock their father's authoritarian ways after a scolding.

But there was no laughter today.

Both Rodley and Doyle knew the marriage was inescapable.

Reluctantly, Doyle would abide by his father's decision.

Yet, he couldn't shake the thorn in his side.

"Brother, you're well-connected. Could you do me a favor?"

"Name it."

"Find out what you can about Princess Franny Agares."

Rodley paused, then asked, "And what will you do with that information?"

Doyle's smile held a hint of self-derision.

"I'm entitled to know, aren't I? Even a condemned man should know his charges."

Rodley nodded in agreement.

They clinked glasses, and Rodley downed his drink with conviction, "My dear brother, you may not be guilty, but you can't escape the sentence of marriage."

"Don't worry, I've got this!"

Doyle finished his rum in one gulp.

The pirate's choice was indeed potent. Just a sip set his stomach ablaze.

He wouldn't have touched it if anyone other than Rodley, who was more dragon than orc, had brought it.

But his brother was an anomaly.

While elves favored a vegetarian diet, Rodley relished meat and drink in abundance.

Before his transmigration, Doyle had been human and found the elves' austere lifestyle somewhat jarring.

Only with Rodley did he manage to find some semblance of joy.

After their third round of drinks, the brothers were feeling the effects of the alcohol.

Drinking on an empty stomach can hit you hard, especially when you're nursing worries. It makes the drunkenness come on all the quicker.

Doyle's eyes were tinged with red as he blurted out, "Second brother, out of all the races, who's the most striking?"

Rodley remained silent, simply gesturing towards himself with his thumb, then pointing at Doyle.

Doyle nodded, a trace of bitterness in his tone. "If we're the most striking race, how could it be wrong to want a beautiful wife?"

"Is it so wrong to be a connoisseur of beauty?"

Rodley shook his head firmly. "Brother, there's nothing wrong with that. You appreciate beauty, and so do I."

"But you, at least, have some prospects. What about me? What kind of wife has Royal Father chosen for me? A dwarf!"

"A fat, foolish dwarf! A dwarf who spends her days in a drunken stupor! A dwarf whose only skill is hammering away at the forge! A dwarf who's unkempt and spends her days bellowing at the top of her lungs!"

Doyle tried to suppress a chuckle at the thought of his second sister-in-law.

But he couldn't contain it.

His second brother, a man of such caliber, had ended up marrying the daughter of a dwarf tribe chieftain.

With that thought, Doyle's spirits lifted considerably.

Rodley's voice was laden with a sense of wrong. He grabbed Doyle by the collar and bellowed, "What's so bad about the girls from the Devil Clan?"

"They have their share of beauties, too—passionate, alluring, and seductive to the core! If you're so reluctant, I'll go speak to Royal Father myself. You can marry the second sister-in-law, and I'll take over your betrothal."

Doyle sidestepped his brother's flying spittle and brushed his hand away, saying sternly, "Enough of that. I am Royal Father's son, and his commands dictate my actions."

"Besides, second sister-in-law... well, she's deeply in love with you. Put away these absurd fantasies. May the gracious Moon God forgive your dreadful thoughts."

Once the brothers had drained their cups, they parted ways with a sense of resignation.

Watching Rodley's retreating figure, Doyle felt a slight lift in his mood.

No matter how dire his own situation seemed, seeing someone worse off brought a perverse sense of balance.

Thinking of his brother's wife, Doyle exhaled deeply, lay back on his bed, and let the alcohol fuel his imagination about his own betrothed.

His eyelids grew heavy as he slipped into a daydream.

"With my good looks, my fiancée is bound to be a delicate and serene, yet tantalizing and innocent Succubus."

"It's a given. After all, who could resist my charm?"