Chapter : 43
Lloyd moved his gaze to the stout woman, Elara. "Elara Gable. Your son, young Tim, suffers from the Grey Lung sickness, does he not? Requires expensive imported herbs from the Southern Isles, herbs far beyond your ans as a washerwoman." His voice softened slightly, a hint of sympathy that made the underlying implication even sharper. "A desperate situation. One that makes a mother vulnerable. Perhaps vulnerable enough to accept… assistance? Funds delivered discreetly, ensuring Tim receives his dicine, in return for rembering events near Weaver's Alley in a particular light?"
Elara burst into tears, burying her face in her already damp apron, her shoulders shaking.
He addressed the remaining three in quick succession, his voice remaining calm, almost conversational, yet each word landed like a precisely aid blow.
"And you, Jorn," he pointed to a burly man trying to shrink behind the others. "Caught skimming from the Guild warehouse where you work. Facing expulsion, disgrace, possibly prison. Until a certain Foreman, known to take instructions from associates of the Viscount, offered to make the problem… disappear. For a favor."
"Hendry," he fixed his gaze on a pale youth. "Involved in that brawl near the docks last week? The one where the Harbormaster’s nephew got his jaw broken? Charges were about to be pressed. Magically, they vanished. Coincidentally, right after you agreed to 'witness' sothing for certain influential people."
"And finally, Martha," he looked at the last woman, older, face etched with worry lines. "Your daughter's impending marriage. To a respectable rchant's son. A marriage threatened by the resurfacing of an old, embarrassing family scandal from your youth. A scandal soone," his eyes flickered aningfully towards Rubel, "dug up and threatened to reveal. Unless you cooperated."
He paused, letting the weight of the individual exposures sink in, watching the complete collapse of the witnesses' composure. Their terrified silence, their tears, their trembling, spoke louder than any forced testimony ever could.
"Five people," Lloyd concluded, turning slowly away from the wreckage of their credibility to face his father and uncle directly. "Five lives, each with a vulnerability. Debt, desperation, fear of disgrace, legal trouble, blackmail. Levers. All conveniently pulled by individuals connected, directly or indirectly, to my esteed uncle, Viscount Rubel Ferrum." His gaze locked onto Rubel’s, cold and sharp. "Coincidence? Or a rather clumsy pattern of coercion and bribery?"
Rubel Ferrum’s face had transford from smug confidence to disbelief, then rapidly darkening fury. The smoothness vanished, replaced by a harsh rigidity. "Lies! Slander! How dare you impugn these honest folk based on rumor and speculation!" he snarled, taking a step forward, his voice losing its controlled modulation.
"Rumor?" Lloyd raised an eyebrow, pulling a neatly folded sheaf of parchnts from within his tunic – Ken Park’s overnight report, concise and damning. "I assure you, Uncle, this is far more than rumor. Dates, nas, amounts, connections… docunted." He didn't offer the parchnts, rely tapped them lightly, letting the implication hang. "Shall I elaborate further? Perhaps discuss the specific moneylender, the foreman, the source of the blackmail material?"
Rubel visibly recoiled, his face paling slightly. He recognized the threat. Lloyd wasn’t bluffing.
"And now," Lloyd continued, his voice regaining its calm, almost gentle tone as he turned towards the two young girls who stood frozen, watching the proceedings with wide, terrified eyes. "The final piece."
He walked towards them, stopping a respectful distance away. He crouched slightly, bringing himself closer to their level, his expression softening entirely. "Eliza? Maria?" he addressed them by nas Ken had provided. "It's alright. You don't have to be afraid anymore."
The girls looked at him, then glanced fearfully towards Rubel, then back at Lloyd, tears still streaming down their faces.
"Yesterday," Lloyd said gently, "after our… encounter… I sought you out. Didn't I?"
The taller girl, Eliza, nodded hesitantly, wiping her eyes.
"And I warned you, didn't I? I told you that the people behind those n might try to silence you, or force you to lie." He paused, letting them rember. "I told you they might threaten you, or offer your families things they desperately need."
Both girls nodded again, more emphatically this ti.
"And I told you," Lloyd continued, his voice full of quiet assurance, "that no matter what they threatened, no matter what they promised, the truth was your strongest shield. I told you that if you were forced to lie today, you simply had to wait for my signal, and then tell the Arch Duke everything that truly happened. Didn't I promise I would protect you if you told the truth?"
Eliza looked straight at him, a flicker of hope dawning in her tear-filled eyes. "Y-yes, Young Lord! You did! You promised!"
Chapter : 44
"Then tell him now," Lloyd urged gently, straightening up and gesturing towards his father. "Tell the Arch Duke what really happened near Weaver's Alley two days ago. Tell him what those n said to you. Tell him how they blocked your path. Tell him how you felt."
Eliza took a deep, shuddering breath, looked at her friend Maria, who nodded encouragent, and then turned to face the Arch Duke. Her voice, though trembling, rang with newfound conviction.
"Your Grace!" she began, the words tumbling out in a rush. "It… it wasn't like they said! Those n… they weren't helping us! They cornered us! They were saying… awful things! Making rude jokes! We tried to get past, but they wouldn't let us! We were scared!"
Maria chid in, emboldened by her friend. "They called us nas, Your Grace! And… and one of them tried to grab Eliza’s arm! We were terrified! Then… then Lord Ferrum ca! He didn't shout threats! He just… he told them off! He hit the leader, yes, but only after he wouldn't stop! And then he lectured them! Like… like a schoolmaster!"
"And yesterday," Eliza continued breathlessly, "a man ca to our hos! A scary man with cold eyes! He… he offered Papa money! Lots of money! Said we just had to say the boys were nice, that Lord Ferrum was an! He said… he said bad things would happen if we didn't!" Tears flowed freely again, but these were tears of relief, of truth finally spoken.
The study was utterly silent, save for the girls' ragged breathing. The ticulously constructed narrative Rubel had built lay in ruins, shattered by the simple, heartfelt testimony of the children he had tried to manipulate, corroborated by the exposed vulnerabilities of his coerced witnesses.
Lloyd turned slowly, deliberately, to face his uncle. The calm amusent was gone, replaced by a cold, scathing contempt. "Well, Uncle Rubel?" his voice dripped with sarcasm. "A 'misunderstanding', you called it? 'Tragic overreaction'?" He gestured towards the now-silent bandaged figures. "Or perhaps just another move in your long, pathetic ga? Another attempt to discredit the main line, to sow discord, to position yourself closer to the seat you so desperately covet?"
He took a step towards Rubel, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. "You think my father is blind? You think I am blind to your ambition? To the whispers? To the convenient 'accidents' that seem to follow those who oppose you?" He leaned in slightly, invoking mories only he possessed from a future that never was, yet felt chillingly real. "Like your persistent attempts, previous understanding… to engineer an engagent between your arrogant whelp of a son," he shot a venomous look at Rayan, who paled significantly, "and Rosa Siddik?"
Across the room, Rosa’s head snapped up. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, the mask of indifference finally cracking, replaced by stunned disbelief. How…? How could he possibly know that? The engagent discussions had been brief, secret, vehently rejected by her father years ago, long before her marriage to Lloyd was even contemplated. It was a hidden piece of family history, buried deep. Lloyd’s knowledge was impossible.
"You," Lloyd spat at Rubel, ignoring Rosa's shock, focusing his ire entirely on his uncle, "have been maneuvering against the main branch for years. Undermining my father subtly, waiting for weakness, plotting. This stunt? Trying to fra , using coerced witnesses and injured pawns? Pathetic. Desperate. And utterly transparent."
Before Rubel could formulate a defense, before the sputtering rage could erupt into denial, Arch Duke Roy Ferrum moved.
He rose slowly from behind his desk, his full height seeming to fill the room, radiating an aura of power far more potent than any Spirit Pressure. His face was thunderous, colder and harder than Lloyd had ever seen it. His eyes, fixed on his brother Rubel, blazed with a fury that promised retribution.
"Rubel Ferrum," Roy’s voice was deceptively quiet, yet it cracked through the tension like a whip, sharp and absolute. Every person in the room flinched. "You dare?"
He took a step around the desk, his gaze unwavering. "You dare orchestrate this… farce? In my own study? You dare coerce witnesses? You dare attempt to manipulate my own son, the heir to this Duchy?" His voice rose steadily, each word dripping with contempt. "You dare plot and sche against the Head Family, against ?"
Rubel visibly shrank under the onslaught, his earlier arrogance completely evaporated, replaced by stark fear. "Brother, I… it was a misunderstanding! I was misinford! These witnesses…"
"Silence!" Roy roared, the sound echoing off the stone walls, making the very air tremble. "I have tolerated your ambition, your maneuvering, your subtle undermining for far too long! Considered it… political necessity. Kinship." He practically spat the word. "No more."
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