Chapter— 21
“EURGH!!” Brian Reed cried in pain. Older Reed stood above his little brother’s broken hand.
“I asked, where is my third brother?” Older Reed stomped his metallic boot on the already burst hand.
“ARGH!!” Another miserable cry echoed through the empty hall of Laurent's Mansion.
“Still waiting for your answer.” He kicked little Reed on the chest. “Little brother.”
“Tha… That wench killed him,” Brian replied in a broken manner.
“And? Why did you not stop him, dear brother?” He pushed his foot down on Brian’s chest.
“Argh… I… I tried to stop… her,”
“You did? But I don’t see my brother here… What happened to him?” Rian whispered, his voice extraordinarily calm and confused, as if he had no idea what had happened. “Tell me, little brother, what happened to him?”
“Th… that wench would not listen to me… I even begged her, but—” His voice was cut off by an agonizing scream as Rian used his other leg to kick Brian on the ear. Brian’s body twisted, trying to escape, but nothing; he did not move an inch.
“YOU BEGGED HER, WORTHLESS SON OF A—” Rian took a deep breath. I am calm, he said in his mind. “Are you not aware of your standing, little brother? You should have taken that bitch by her hair and dragged her through halls, into the street, to that place—made her beg for mercy. Made her BEG!”
His words fell deaf to his brother’s cut-off ears. “Shut up, I did not hit you hard,” Rian said calmly, his foot digging into Brian’s chest until he stopped screaming. The only pained gasps that he could not control were the audible sounds in the hall.
“Little brother?”
“Y…yes?”
“What happened to the third brother?”
“He died.”
“How?”
“That… wench kil…led h…im,”
“Did she give you a chance to save him?”
“Yes…”
“And what did you do while she murdered your brother, little brother?”
Brian said nothing, the foot on his chest started pressing him. “I… looked… away.”
Rian stepped away from his brother’s body, grabbed him by the hair, and pulled him to eye level, “DO YOU KNOW HOW IMPORTANT HE WAS? HE WAS GOING TO MARRY THAT OLD LAMBERT’S GRANDCHILD. NOW WHAT?!” He shouted in his mostly dead brother’s face, “ANSWER ME!” The veins on his face bulged as he screamed.
Rian’s last vestige of patience died. He punched Brian in the face, creating a bloody splash art on the marble floor. Brian’s teeth escaped his mouth and scattered on the floor. “ANSWER ME!!” He grabbed his only ‘alive’ brother and threw him at the pillar with all his might.
Brian Reed’s spine met the pillar and twisted in an arch with a loud crunch.
“ANS—”
“That is enough, Commander, stop,” an unbothered voice ordered. The only person in Gracia who could take this tone with Rian—Hestia Laurent. She was above the stairs looking down at him.
“As I shall, My Lady,” Rian replied respectfully and bent to his knees.
“Vin, make sure little Reed lives—I might still have a use for him,”
A black-haired, unassuming boy nodded and climbed down the stairs to Brian’s side.
“And Commander, make sure you take my permission before touching my things again. You won’t be pardoned next time.”
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“I apologize, My Lady.”
“Na-ah, call me Lady Laurent. Until I find something worth in you, you’re prohibited from addressing me as your lady.”
Rian’s eyes widened, he slammed his face into the marble floor, flattening his nose, and his forehead started bleeding, “I beg for your forgiveness, My—Lady Laurent,” his voice on the verge of tears.
“You may continue to repent,” Laurent turned and left.
Rian continued to slam his head on the floor and beg for forgiveness until morning when Lady Laurent ordered him to heal and have breakfast.
….
“What of Benoit?” Hestia Laurent asked the head butler of Laurent House—Karl.
“Lord Benoit is still unresponsive.”
“Hmm… are healers incapable of healing him?”
“That’s not the case, My Lady. Quite the opposite. He has not sustained a single injury to be healed. His mental state, however, has taken quite a burden. He is under observation until we find a breakthrough.”
“I see… I could still have some use for him… but the information he will provide might just be more useful. Move him to Laurent’s estate and have Dr. Fenroy observe him. Inert Veil’s reaction to Level 6 could be the key that may lead us to a breakthrough.”
“At once, my Lady. If I may ask a question.”
“Go ahead.”
“Is… that girl really Level 6?”
“I do not doubt it. If she is not—then, that would be far more scary. Imagine having such a disparity with someone of your level to the point that you leave them mentally broken without once harming them.”
“I… I understand. I will arrange the departure of Lord Benoit at once.” Karl bowed.
“Ah, one more thing—send a letter to our Level Six guest. Say that Lady Laurent wishes to meet her for lunch.” Karl bowed as Lady Laurent entered her bedroom.
…
Lady Ilona stood atop the peak west of Sangfroid, overlooking the city as the morning sun rose behind her. The sky was adorned with a mesmerizing hue of red and orange.
“You’re late, Isolde.”
“It’s not my fault that you’ve got a stick in your ass that won’t vibrate until you arrive everywhere on time. Perhaps, I should really, like really really—pull that stick out, and replace it with one that would stop vibrating when you arrive on time.” The cloaked figure spat as she placed her hand on Ilona's shoulder and dropped all her weight on her, “What do you say?”
“Projecting Fantasies, are we?” Ilona stepped aside, causing the cloaked figure to stumble. “I have called you for a simple task.”
“I refuse.”
“There is a village called Greyhedge at the border of Verner—”
“I REFUSE.”
“I want you to find everything that has happened in that place in the last ten years, every detail, even if a single child was sick. I need that information.” Ilona completed her piece unbothered by numerous more attempts by Isolde to stop her.
“You! You called me here for something so worthless. I refuse. Here, I was expecting you to beg me—please request Trin to allow me to return to Roundtable.” Isolde mimicked Ilona’s calm voice.
“Your apprentice is participating in the tournament, right?”
“So what?!” Isolde asked aggressively, her voice the opposite of calm as if always prepared to fight, with an underlying snark that might even make the calmest people consider slapping her once or twice.
“Let’s make a wager,” Ilona, of course, was the least bit not bothered by her aggression.
“What if you lose?”
“I’ll relocate to Rena for at least a year.”
“Really!” Isolde cleared her throat, “I’m now very curious as to what is in that village that would make you willing to leave your little princess’s side.”
“Nothing really of your interest or importance. Neither am I going to lose, but a wager is a necessary temptation to make you do as I desire without a lengthy and rather laborious conversation.”
“I can hear your thoughts!”
“Yet, you’re bound to your nature, Isolde. You’ll accept the wager.”
“As sure as always, huh. But Hecate is still Level 4; she will lose against Ianthe.”
“I never said it was Hecate I want to wager with.”
“That anomaly!” Isolde’s face lit up. “You believe it is fair to make a level 5 fight a level 6?”
“Of course. The wager will take effect if Iris agrees to restrict her mana and spells to level 5. Are you willing to wager?”
“How can I say no? But, I’ll take that big-ass witch hat if I win.”
“Hmm…then I should also take something…” Ilona contemplated for a long pause before sighing. “You don’t have anything I really want. Perhaps, I will satisfy myself with a clause in the upcoming Neutral Territories Treaty.”
“For little Lancaster, no doubt. She must be one hell of a partner in bed for you to dance like this for her,” Isolde grinned. A very short-lived grin.
Ilona took a step closer to Isolde and placed her hand on Isolde’s shoulder. “I see, you’ve misunderstood something, Isolde. Diantha is akin to a child to me. A child. Nothing more. I hope you can make a distinction when you can say what, can you not?” Ilona asked with a genuine smile on her face, a smile that might leave a nightmare for Isolde.
Isolde hurriedly nodded, stammering, “R-right. It was a joke, just a joke. I get it.”
Ilona let go of her and looked back at the city. “Sometimes, there are things you should not joke about.”
“Right.”