Three massive impacts resounded throughout the hall before an enormous crash shook the entire estate down to its foundations. Panting, a harried looking man in servants livery burst into the dining room, moving at a full-on sprint.

“Lord Darius! Intruders! They’re in the entryway, they-!”

Unfortunately, the man never managed to get any further before he was cut off by those aforementioned intruders. Marching forward in organized step, the soldiers who bullied their way into the dining hall were decked out in the crisp uniforms of the city guard militia—more commonly referred to as the vain lord’s coterie.

With a casual kind of cruelty, the poor servant was thrown aside—his body made to tumble helplessly across the uneven floorboards. A sick feeling of dread began to well up in Jun’s chest then. A feeling which only compounded with the entrance of the vain lord himself.

As if they’d practiced it, the ranks of militia parted smoothly before their lord, from which he emerged confidently, almost triumphantly, a condescending smirk playing at the corners of his lips. And in the city lords wake came two individuals. The first Jun didn’t recognize. The second he knew all too well.

Ever so slowly, Jun crept backward, trying his best to blend in with the murmuring crowd.

Your mind reading technique, whatever it’s called. You’re absolutely sure it only extends to me? If you’ve been underselling your abilities, I promise I won’t be angry if you come clean right now.

“I- like I said, it’s not really a technique, per say. And yes, I’m fairly certain it doesn’t work that way. How could it, after all? And why would it, for that matter?”

Jun grimaced in self-reproach.

No. No that’s alright, I believe you. If you say it can’t be done, it can’t be done. My apologies for questioning you like that, it’s just… it’s just that we might be in a good deal of trouble here very soon, and a special heads up would’ve been lovely.

“Trouble?! What kind of trouble?! Jun?! Again, with the not knowing things…!”

Doesn’t matter. Just stay close. No matter what happens, I need you to stay close, and stay hidden. Alright?

“But-!”

Promise me.

“I… I… okay, I promise.”

The first of the newcomers was a bespectacled, balding man who clearly did not want to be there. Sweating profusely, despite the mild weather, he was short in stature and round about the middle. Hunched over with eyes downcast, he appeared utterly miserable and otherwise resigned. In his arms he cradled a large, official looking tome as if it were a newborn child. It was one that Jun recognized, though not nearly as well as he did their other surprise visitor.

He was a man of average height and unassuming features. Looked to be in his mid-twenties with black hair and hard eyes. He sported long, faded scars across his brow and cheek—likely earned during early childhood if their pinkish color was anything to go by. His name was Marrik and he was one of the first Jun had ever employed.

And, as far as he knew, still employed to this day.

Paid far more than he was likely worth, due in large part to the sensitive things he was privy to. He was one of a select few Jun had personally contracted all those years ago. This had been way back when the fur trade was still in its infancy.

Before Jun had gotten into the rather convenient habit of always wearing a mask.

Coming to a halt at the head of his small army the city lord scanned the clumped-up family gathering as if looking for something. Something…?

Or someone.

With a tsk of annoyance the man gave up on his search. Jun relaxed slightly.

“Well? Is he here or not?” he directed this question at Marrik.

The young man, for his part, barely needed a cursory glance before he spotted Jun. He can’t possibly be about to…! He’s under a system enforced contract!

But, contract or no, when Marrik’s cold, flinty gaze met his, the young man unhesitatingly gestured in his direction.

Upon the breaking of a system enforced oath, no tribulation lightning struck him down, nor did he up and keel over on the spot. Which had to make you wonder, if one was free to break it whenever they pleased, what the hells was the thing even good for in the first place?!

The small hint gave the city lord all that he’d needed, and it was only a few seconds more before the two of them, at last, locked eyes. The toothy grin he gave Jun wouldn’t have been out of place on a demon.

It was then that Lord Darius stepped forward, clearly irate. It was a testament to how panicked Jun had become, that a surge of relief welled up at the sight of the man’s intervention.

“Finneas! What in the name of-! What in the world is the meaning of this?!”

”Oh, calm yourself Darius. This has nothing to do with you.”

Darius stepped closer until the two were inches apart. With a pointed finger he emphasized his words with a forceful jab into the city lord’s chest.

“You break down my doors, storm into my residence, and then have the gaul to tell me to be calm?!” The patriarch was practically screaming at this point; the rafters veritably shook with the force of his fury.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve so rudely interrupted? An esteemed envoy conveying word from none other than our main branch cousins. And at the behest of her grace, the Lady Duchess Cecilia, no less! Finneas, I don’t care how many friends you have in the capital, an insult of this magnitude does not go away merely because you wish it!”

The city lord visibly blanched at this tirade. It, and all its many implications. He actually looked ill. He flicked his eyes from the irate man in front of him to the out of place noble in their midst.

The city lord audibly gulped.

A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. The confident look of only moments before now gone, to be replaced with one of pure terror. In that moment, Jun dared to hope.

“There is really no need for all that, Darius. You must believe me when I say that I had nothing but the best of intentions-“

“Oh? Must I?!”

If he’d thought the city lord’s face couldn’t get any paler, he would have been sorely mistaken. He almost wanted to cheer.

“Of course! You are free to do and believe what you will. Of course! A-and I humbly apologize for the… uhh, for the unfortunate timing, “ he flicked another glance at the envoy. “But, there is a very valid reason for me to call on you so… abruptly.”

The branch lord opened his mouth once more to speak, but was cut off, much to his growing irritation.

“And! I’m sure that once my business has been resolved, certain… recompenses, let’s say, can be arranged. It’s really the least I can do after my, ahem, less than stellar showing of decorum.”

At the mention of possible reimbursement, Jun knew that the man was lost to him. He could already see all the fight going out of Darius, to be replaced by greed and anticipation. And any hope he’d harbored of a simple and clean resolution instantly died.

“Well,” Darius said, in a decidedly subdued tone. “Get on with it then. I’ll decide afterwards what precisely all this fuss was worth.”

The city lord winced at the branch lord’s tone.

Nevertheless, a bit of his previous vigor returned to his cheeks. Again, he smirked in Jun’s direction. Others were beginning to notice where his attention was primarily focused, and looks of confusion were shared throughout the dining hall.

What could the city lord possibly want with the talentless son?

Jun, for his part, kept his eyes locked straight ahead, ignoring the many stares and open questions being exchanged. He thought he knew where this was going. He just didn’t know what precisely to do about it.

“Digbi, if you will,” said the city lord.

The small man was shoved forward by one of the militia members, causing him to nearly trip on his own feet. When he’d at last regained his balance enough to stand, raised his head, and was subsequently met by dozens of curious stares, he immediately shrank back into himself—as if to hide from all the unwanted attention.

He opened his tome quickly, as if salvation could be found within its leather-bound pages. Taking a deep breath, he began to read in a practiced cadence. And with his quiet words, came the will of the system.

“On behalf of the system and its immutable laws, this humble servant hereby finds Junwei Beckonfrost guilty on three counts—of underaged child labor, fraudulent business practices, and the impersonation of a frontier lord. The convicted is to be arrested, effective immediately, and thereby placed into the custody of the resident city lord until further notice.

“Any heretofore illegal claim upon any and all business ventures, stocks, and general holdings are to be transferred into the ownership of said city lord, in perpetuity, until and or if the true owner of said properties has sued for an appeal. Should the true owner of the confiscated holdings be in attendance, I would ask that they speak now, lest the judgement be ruled uncontested.”

You could’ve heard a pen drop in the silence that followed. Every eye in the room was fixedly trained on Jun, whereas he couldn’t, in turn, drag his gaze away from the blinking red notifications that’d eclipsed his field of view.

***WARNING***

Due to the advent of a system enforced civil decree, your holdings have been seized.

***WARNING***

Due to the advent of a system enforced civil decree, your investments have been seized.

***WARNING***

Due to the advent of a system enforced civil decree, your business shares have been seized.

Do you wish to appeal this ruling?

YES/NO

ERROR

Because you have yet to reach your cultures majority year, in accordance with the laws of your registered province, you are unable to appeal this decision.

Your holdings have been seized.

Your investments have been seized.

Your business shares have been seized.

What was…?

Inexplicably, his heart began to hammer, and his body…? His body felt strangely numb. He couldn’t feel his face. Was that normal? What was happening? Then the room began to spin.

Now that couldn’t be normal.

His tongue tasted of sand, and of bile, and of lemons. His eyes stung.

You can’t just…!

Without warning it was as if his legs had turned to jelly. If it weren’t for a pair of steady arms already there to catch him, he likely would’ve fallen straight onto his face. Leaning into his mother’s embrace, he turned from the blinking screen to find that her lips were moving.

Strange…?

Was she saying something? Because no matter how much he tried, he just couldn’t seem to hear her. Or anything else for that matter. Not over all that incessant ringing. It was so loud in his ears he could barely think. The jarring vibrations of heavy footsteps jolted up through his knees.

Was he kneeling? Since when had that happened?

Grabbed roughly about the arms, he was hoisted bodily to his feet. Large hands. Men’s hands. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his mother try to stop them, only to be casually batted aside, as if she weighed nothing at all. It was enough to bring him half out of his dazed stupor.

“You don’t touch her!” his voice came out hoarse and small.

All he received were mean chuckles in response, and the tightening of their grip. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw lord Damien come to his mother’s aid—helping her to rise and acting as support.

She must’ve injured herself in the fall, he thought. And then an all-consuming rage swallowed him whole, and his mind went utterly blank.