The reading room was silent.
A messenger stood with his head bowed toward Lord and Lady Viemen; the sweat was dripping on his brow as he waited for the oppressive silence to end. His utterance of only a few moments ago had left the attendees speechless, as he himself had been when first he heard it.
Lord Viemen’s chair creaked as he leaned against the splat and stared up toward the ceiling. The guardsmen who stood within the room could barely contain their surprise; and managed to do so in the end only out of fear. The Marquess was a temperamental man, and his utter silence was rarely a good thing. Lady Viemen sat with her hands rested in her lap, though she too wore an expression of shock on par with the others. Finally, Lord Viemen seemed to regain some of his composure. With a slow motion he leveled a glance at the messenger and took a few steady breaths before speaking.
“What is your name, outrider?”
“Oliver, honorable Marquess,” the man answered without lifting his head.
“Do you consider me a foolish man, Oliver?”
Oliver hesitated— a lump was building in his throat.
“I-I believe that Marquess Viemen is a gracious, intelligent and capable Lord.”
“Then I can assume that you would not dare lie to me when I demand truth, outrider?”
“I would never lie to you, my lord.”
Frederick pushed himself up from the chair and crossed the room. He stood mere inches from Oliver whose head remained bowed toward the floor, sinking lower with each breath in a desperate show of protective deference.
“Then I ask you once more. What has become of Viemen?”
“Sir Perry Mannigold has slain the dra—”
Lord Viemen grabbed the man by his collar and yanked him to a standing position.
“DO NOT LIE TO ME!”
“My lord, I— !”
“Frederick!”
Annette was standing now. Her gaze held a mix of concern and authority. “We must let him speak if we are to know the truth,” she continued. “I am sure you are aware as well, my lord?”
Frederick shoved Oliver away from him and steadied his breath.
“Speak,” he demanded. “Now.”
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“Viemen still stands, my lord. The people…they have begun to rebuild the town square and the surrounding area. I spoke to some, though not many would entertain me.”
“And what did they say, Oliver?” Annette asked with a soft and tempered tone.
“They spoke of the dragon attack…of its hellfire and ferocity. They spoke as well of Sir Perry and his men. They say that he fought the dragon and bested it— that its body remains in his fields beneath the Dags.”
“Impossible!” Frederick shouted. “It is a lie! No man could do such a thing!”
“I beg your pardon, my lord, but I have seen it with my own eyes.”
Lord Viemen narrowed his eyes toward Oliver and made a move to strike him, but Annette came up beside him and spoke before he could.
“You have seen it?”
Oliver nodded furiously.
“Yes, my lady, I swear it!” Oliver turned desperately toward Frederick and pleaded with him. “It was as unbelievable as you say, my lord, but it is nonetheless true. I swear it!”
The captain of Lord Viemen’s guard stepped forward to speak.
“My lord, perhaps it is time that we return. I will confirm for myself whether—”
“Out! All of you!” Frederick shouted. “Now!”
The guardsmen looked to each other worriedly, but with a reassuring glance from Annette they eventually excused themselves. When the room was empty, Annette turned toward Frederick and spoke to him.
“Frederick…you may forgive me, but the enduring of Viemen seems a good thing. Does it not?”
Frederick ignored her. Instead, he pushed passed her and sank down into his armchair. He gripped the handles tightly and stared at the floorboards. Like a boiling pot, Annette could see the anger build and rise from his chest to his face— muscles twitching and twisting until finally they could contain it no longer. Frederick shot up, grabbed the arm handles and threw the chair against the wall as he shouted at full volume. Annette backed away, nearly falling over herself at the sudden outburst, and grabbing to the wall for support.
“Frederick! What is the matter with you!?”
“It wasn’t meant to be this way!” he roared at the ceiling. “Damn you, Zorren!”
“Zorren? What does he have to do with anything?”
The wheels in her own mind were turning quickly, but Frederick’s temper was the more pressing matter at hand. She came close to him, approaching slowly, and moved to place a hand on his back.
“Do not touch me!”
He slapped her hand away and turned from her. She recoiled her arm but held her ground as she pressured him.
“Frederick, this is not the time to act in such a manner! The town has survived. We must return at once and rebuild!”
Frederick’s face was gravely still now; he had slipped quietly into that dire valley of pointed wrath which lay between rage and resolution.
“You do not understand…” he muttered to himself. “This was not supposed to happen. He promised me…”
Annette had become more frightened now than she had been before. Too many pieces to this present puzzle eluded her; and Frederick’s desperate ire and mentioning of Zorren were enough to unease her.
“Frederick, what on earth are you talking about?” she said quietly as she moved in closer to him. “Please, tell me.”
Her lulling voice and tender presence surrounded his walls, seeking in earnest for their weakness. Perhaps it was due to an instability of the mind, brought on by his outburst and rage. Or perhaps Frederick was simply no match for Annette’s subtle evocations. But, whatever the reason, his resistance faded and he told her of everything: regarding their departure, Millner’s directive and his aim of seeing Perry and Rothwell eliminated to secure his rule over Viemen.