Chapter : 41
"No reason!" Milo insisted, his voice rising slightly in panic. "None at all! Those lads," he nodded towards the bandaged pair again, "they wasn't doin' nothin'! Just standin' there! Maybe talkin' to so girls, friendly like! It was… it was savage, Your Grace! Uncalled for!" He practically scuttled back into the cluster of witnesses.
"Elara," Rubel called the stout woman forward. "Your account?"
Elara twisted her apron, her face pale. "Just like Milo said, Excellency! I saw it all! Lord Ferrum looked like he was spoilin' for a fight from the mont he turned the corner! Eyes all hard, you know? Those poor boys didn't stand a chance! He just… attacked! Shouting things too!"
"Shouting?" Rubel seized on the detail. "What sort of things?"
Elara faltered, glancing nervously at Rubel. "Well… angry things, Excellency. Threats! Like… like he owned the street! Said he'd teach 'em who was boss!" She wrung her hands. "It was frightening!"
"Frightening indeed," Rubel echoed gravely. He gestured to the other three witnesses. "Do your accounts align with what Milo and Elara have described? Did any of you see any provocation from these young n?"
A chorus of mumbled "No, Your Excellency," "Just like they said," and "He just hit 'em!" rose from the remaining three, their eyes wide with fear, their stories overlapping slightly but sticking firmly to the core narrative of Lloyd's unprovoked, instant aggression.
Rubel let the weight of their 'testimony' settle before turning his attention to the bandaged figures, his voice softening with pity. "And these poor souls… loyal servants of families connected to our own Ferrum line," he added, subtly linking them to the broader family structure, "rely attempted to speak with their young lord yesterday, perhaps to understand the previous day's aggression. And for their troubles?" He gestured towards the bandages. "This horror. Inflicted deliberately. Cruelly."
One of the bandaged n emitted a particularly long, drawn-out groan, shifting painfully in his chair. The sll of dicinal salve and sothing faintly unpleasant emanated from them.
"But the most heart-wrenching testimony," Rubel continued, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, drawing everyone's attention, "cos from the innocent parties caught in the middle." He beckoned the two young girls forward again. They approached the desk like lambs to the slaughter, trembling visibly.
"Child," Rubel addressed the taller girl, his voice gentle, almost paternal. "Please, do not fear. Just tell the Arch Duke the truth. Few days ago, near Weaver's Alley… what happened? Did those young n," he carefully avoided naming the bandaged figures directly this ti, "bother you? Threaten you in any way?"
The girl shook her head violently, tears welling in her eyes. "N-no, Your Excellency! No, Your Grace!" she choked out, her voice thin and reedy. "They were… they were nice! Truly! We were a bit lost, see, and they… they just asked if we needed help finding the Weaver's Guild Hall! Showed us the way on a little map one of 'em had!" She sniffled. "They weren't an at all!"
"Map?" Lloyd thought incredulously. That's a new one. Creative.
"And then what happened?" Rubel prompted softly.
The second girl burst into loud, theatrical sobs, burying her face in her friend's shoulder. "Lord Ferrum!" she wailed between sobs. "He ca… he ca out of nowhere! He looked… terrifying! Like… like a demon!" She shuddered dramatically. "He yelled at the boys for… for talking to us! Said… said they had no right! Then he… he hit one! Just like the witnesses said! He said…" she trailed off, sobbing harder.
"What did he say, child?" Rubel pressed gently, milking the mont. "What threat did he make?"
"He said… he said he'd burn them!" the girl cried out, lifting her tear-streaked face. "He said he'd burn them if they ever looked at us again! We were so scared! We just ran!" She collapsed back into her friend's embrace, her small body shaking with contrived fear.
It was a masterful performance of manipulation, Lloyd had to admit, albeit a crude one. Rubel had coached them well, layering specific lies onto the general narrative, playing on sympathy, painting Lloyd not just as aggressive, but as possessive, threatening, almost demonic.
Rayan Ferrum, standing beside his father, allowed a small, cruel smile to touch his lips. He found the girls' performance particularly amusing.
Viscount Rubel turned slowly, facing Arch Duke Roy, his expression now one of righteous conviction. "Your Grace," his voice resonated with authority, "the evidence is undeniable. Five impartial witnesses. Two grievously injured victims. The terrified testimony of the very girls Lord Lloyd claims he was 'protecting'. It paints a consistent, damning picture: an unprovoked, brutal assault driven by arrogance and rage. An abuse of power that stains the honor of our na."
Chapter : 42
He straightened to his full height, his gaze sweeping briefly over Lloyd with triumphant disdain before settling back on Roy. "This cannot stand, Your Grace. For the sake of justice, for the sake of order, for the sake of the Ferrum reputation, there must be accountability."
His voice hardened, the demand ringing clear. "I repeat my request. Lord Lloyd Ferrum must kneel before these n he has wronged, apologize sincerely for his actions, and offer compensation for their suffering. Five Gold Coins each. It is the least that can be done to redress this egregious offense!" He folded his arms, looking expectantly at Roy, confident that the sheer weight of the orchestrated testimony left the Arch Duke no other option. Checkmate.
The silence in the study stretched, thick and suffocating. The witnesses held their breath. The bandaged n fell silent, their groans montarily forgotten. Rayan’s smirk widened. Rubel stood tall, awaiting the inevitable judgnt. Rosa remained perfectly still, an erald statue observing the proceedings with inscrutable detachnt. Ken Park hadn’t moved a muscle, a pillar of stoic readiness beside Lloyd.
Arch Duke Roy Ferrum’s gaze remained fixed on his son. He had listened without interruption, his face revealing nothing. Now, the mont of judgnt had arrived. The assembled players waited for him to lower the boom, to enforce the seemingly inevitable conclusion Rubel had so carefully constructed.
Roy did not look at Rubel. He did not look at the witnesses or the victims. His intense, penetrating gaze remained locked on Lloyd.
"Lloyd," Roy stated, his voice cutting through the thick silence like a blade, flat, devoid of judgnt, yet carrying the imnse weight of his authority. "Viscount Rubel has presented his case and his demands. The witnesses have spoken." He paused, letting the finality sink in. "The twenty-four hours I granted you have elapsed."
He leaned forward fractionally, the movent drawing every eye. "You claid you could prove your innocence. You claid you could expose the truth." His voice dropped slightly, becoming impossibly quiet, yet resonating with absolute command. "The stage is yours. Present your proof."
----
The air in the Arch Duke’s study hung thick and expectant, saturated with the poison of Rubel’s accusations and the weight of the fabricated testimonies. The Viscount stood smugly, arms folded, awaiting the inevitable capitulation. Rayan smirked, savoring the anticipated humiliation of his cousin. The witnesses trembled, caught between fear of Rubel and the imposing presence of the Arch Duke. The bandaged figures offered occasional, strategically tid groans. Rosa remained an enigma, a silent observer clad in erald green.
All eyes were on Lloyd, awaiting his defense, his excuses, his inevitable crumble under the orchestrated weight of 'evidence'.
Lloyd rose from his chair, not with defiance, not with anger, but with a calm, almost serene confidence that was deeply unsettling. He didn’t imdiately address his father or his uncle. Instead, he walked slowly, deliberately, towards the cluster of terrified witnesses, his footsteps echoing softly on the polished floor. Ken Park remained by the chair, a silent anchor.
He stopped directly in front of them, close enough that they could sll the faint scent of soap and starch from his tunic, close enough that they couldn't avoid his direct, penetrating gaze. He looked at each of them in turn, his eyes lingering for a mont, seeming to peel back the layers of their fear and deceit. They flinched under his scrutiny, shuffling, looking down, anywhere but at him.
"Milo," Lloyd began, his voice quiet but carrying easily in the tense silence. He addressed the thin, shifty-eyed man who had spoken first. "Milo Tanner. Runs a small stall selling slightly bruised fruit near the East Gate, correct? Always struggling to make ends et. Especially since acquiring that rather unfortunate gambling debt at the 'Lucky Gryphon' tavern two months ago."
Milo jerked as if struck, his face draining of all remaining color. He stared at Lloyd, mouth agape. "H-how…?"
"A debt currently held," Lloyd continued smoothly, ignoring the stamred question, "by a moneylender known to have… close ties to certain interests affiliated with Viscount Rubel Ferrum. A debt for which the collection thods were becoming increasingly… persuasive. Until, perhaps, a generous offer was made? An offer to clear the slate entirely, maybe even add a few silver coins on top, in exchange for a small service? A simple recitation?"
Milo trembled violently, unable to speak, his eyes wide with terror.
Reviews
All reviews (0)