Misunderstood Villain: Heroines Mourn My Death - Chapter 447

Chapter 447: Not Bad

***

{Outside The Projection}

Again, another question was answered.

Malik, of course, had a successor.

A figurehead raised by an owl.

One that none of them knew of.

None except Sinbad and Dunya, of course.

Aladdin, a name popular in stories, much like Sinbad.

He was someone they had hidden from the entire world.

Even now, mere hours before Malik’s ‘death’ would be complete.

Such news definitely would’ve turned the hall into chaos just a few days ago, but now?

Roya was dead.

Noor was hollowed out.

Zafar was a changed man.

Those who would’ve contended for the throne were no longer here, either erased or neutered.

A throne that once promised a storm now looked like a place that could be easily controlled, its chaos all but extinguished.

So rather than being confused by this news, those in the hall were happy.

Having a secret successor lord over them was easier to accept than an open war.

Practicality wins over morality in these rooms more often than people would like to admit.

Even through her sorrow, Huda felt the same happiness, having stopped caring for the Golden Throne since her uncle’s death all those years ago.

Layla felt much the same, glad to know that her once husband’s legacy would be continued in the hands of someone Sinbad personally taught.

Yet not all of them had felt that happiness; some felt anger.

One of those angry was Azeem, who kept flicking his gaze from the projection to Sinbad.

‘…Another secret.’

He truly despised this feeling.

It didn’t matter to him that he wasn’t even considered. Rather, he felt their love in that he wasn’t considered, knowing they held him in their hearts and didn’t even think of putting him through such Hell.

And of course, Azeem knew why Malik did what he did, but still…

It hurt.

But it didn’t hurt enough for him not to ask this question:

“Brother… Sinbad… where is your Aladdin?”

Sinbad looked down, the same sadness in his eyes.

“My boy will come once all is done.”

Their talk ended with those words.

Now, all they had to do was wait.

…Like always.

***

{Inside The Projection}

Malik blinked his eyes open.

His Aether circulation faded away.

He was still on the Golden Throne, choosing to cultivate here until who he waited for arrived.

And so, after a few moments, the reason he opened his eyes appeared.

A young man walked in and knelt at the foot of the dais.

One with short blue hair and green eyes that darted.

He wore white robes, clean but plain.

“—M-my Lord!”

The boy stammered when Malik’s gaze hit him.

His knees almost immediately sank into the cold stone.

They would’ve dived deeper if he had the strength.

“Hm…”

Malik’s mouth made a thinking sound, too quiet for the hall.

“Missing a rattail.”

Aladdin didn’t hear it, making it obvious that he was a mortal.

Sinbad easily did, however, gliding in and settling on the arm of the throne.

“Yes, he is.”

Sinbad waved a wing at the boy.

“But please concentrate on the other qualities of his persona.”

His pinks looked him up and down, as if inspecting him for the first time.

“He’s keen. Observant. Grew up among hunger. Good bones to build a man from.”

Malik’s golds flicked to Sinbad and back to the kneeling figure.

“How long have you had him under your tutelage?”

Sinbad puffed proudly.

“I picked him up, and many like him, seven years past when I was finally ready, having planned the curriculum down to the last day. Five years of training thereafter—that is two years ago. They were ready to be judged. Since then, I simply waited for you to say you needed a successor.”

“So you knew that I’d likely choose a beggar?”

“Yes, Elder Brother.”

“You know me well.”

“I do.”

Malik nodded, both at Sinbad and the boy.

It was the first permission Aladdin had been given.

“Come forth.”

Aladdin rose, walked a few steps forward, and bowed so low his forehead almost touched the marble.

“My Lord.”

He heard his teacher sigh, making him immediately snap his head up.

“Look at your Lord.”

Sinbad’s eyes never stopped terrifying him.

“Ah…”

Aladdin, trying to compose himself, finally straightened his back, as if some invisible cord pulled him to attention, his greens flicking to Malik.

There, he saw eyes that terrified him ten times more, yet he didn’t look away.

Fear and awe stood side by side, stopping him in his tracks.

“Boy, I don’t care about your talent as a Magi. Strength can be bought with a good coin. What I need in a successor is… different. Drive, perseverance, and… adaptability. If you want to be my replacement, answer plainly. Make Sinbad proud.”

Aladdin nodded deeply, almost bowing once more, before his face turned serious.

“I will, my Lord.”

Malik nodded.

“Good. First question: war strategy. Army A has five thousand soldiers; Army B has seven thousand, seven hundred and seventy-seven. Who wins?”

Aladdin didn’t hesitate.

“Depends on terrain and information. If Army A holds choke points and has exact numbers on B’s formation, they can win. Knowledge and positioning beat simple arithmetic. So Army A, if used correctly.”

Malik’s face didn’t change.

“Acceptable.”

He continued with the next question:

“Formation debate, a Council favorite. With Magi facing each other far from the mortals, you face heavy cavalry and disciplined infantry. Do you utilize a dense shield-wall phalanx to hold ground or adopt looser spear lines with skirmishers to harass? Which and why?”

Aladdin’s answer came as quickly as before:

“If the enemy cavalry is decisive and my ground is firm, a shield-wall holds. If the field favors maneuver and I have time to thin the cavalry’s impact, I’d deploy a looser formation with skirmishers to pick at flanks. Again: match formation to the environment and force composition. Rigid pride in a tactic kills better than any enemy.”

“Fine.”

Malik nodded.

“Practical logic.”

He flipped to civic questions.

“Town A and Town B dispute glass mines on their border. Both claim rights. How do you solve it so neither burns down and trade keeps flowing?”

Aladdin’s tone softened.

“I’d set up a joint commission with equal representation, share output by percentage, rotate management every five years, and create a shared oversight fund to pay for maintenance. If their tempers flare, I’d give neutral arbitration and temporary revenue sharing until trust builds. Incentivizing cooperation throughout.”

“Hm.”

Malik murmured, almost surprised.

“Not bad.”