Chapter 38: The Many Troubles of a Weary, Old Minister
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A deathly silence hung in the air.
The former enemies locked eyes. Slowly, the two circled off, bodies taut with unspoken tension.
Despite Faye’s indifferent expression, she stood on the edge of her toes. The slight shift in her posture was telling. It betrayed her readiness for a fight.
Dark clouds seemed to roll over the sky. Nevertheless, the moon glared down at them, cutting sharply through the darkness.
As always, Edward faced the situation with a grin.
The man’s unsettling composure was beginning to gnaw on Cristin’s nerves. The attendant shifted nervously, eyes darting between the two. This was not how the night was supposed to go. Where had the Raven General even come from, he wondered in dismay.
Cristin tensed as well. He couldn’t predict whether he would have to interfere or drag the lord to safety, away from the impending duel.
Cristin’s stomach churned at the thought. Despite Faye’s prowess, Edward was no mere soldier. As the chosen heir of the Eastern General, the title alone demanded respect. The trials he had faced to gain such a position were likely nothing short of brutal. What did it say that the man met each challenge with such a manic expression?
Cristin’s thoughts were interrupted as Edward burst out into hearty laughter.
“I always thought I’d bring you in chains to this side of our wall,” Edward’s gaze remained trained on the woman.
“As if,” scoffed the Raven General. “I would have taken your head long before that.”
Edward tilted his head mockingly. “I would have believed that before. But now? You haven’t even drawn your blade yet.” His dark eyes gleamed. “Where is the demon that challenged twenty of my best men?”
Faye’s jaws tightened. The woman gritted her teeth at the taunt. Her amber eyes flashed at the insinuation.
“Raven General,” Cristin’s voice broke through the tension, shaking his head. “Do not act rashly.” His eyes turned warily to the smiling soldier, unsure what to say. “Lieutenant Edward, please-“ but his words were immediately cut off.
“I can’t believe it!” guffawed the lieutenant, eyes wide in amazement. “The great Raven General has been tamed.” Edward spread his arms dramatically. The forcefully light-hearted tone echoed in the silence of the alley. “I never thought I’d see the day. What would your men say, Raven General?”
Beside Cristin, Nikolai tensed. Those were fighting words. The two glanced at the Raven General, trying to gauge her reaction.
Faye’s amber eyes glinted with a hint of something hard. The annoyance narrowed into something far more dangerous.
“Bold of you to make such assumptions.” Faye’s hand slid to the blade by her side. Her voice was wistful as she caressed it with an almost fond touch. “It’s been so long since I’ve wetted my blade with foul blood.”
“Oh, I find that hard to believe,” Edward barked out. “I forgot to ask. How fares your beloved lieutenant?” His grin sharpened. “If only my men had taken his eye that time.”
Cristin stiffened at the words.
“Livye prays for your death every moon festival without fail,” Faye was quick to retort. “How fares your precious fiancée? What was her name again?” She smirked, a glint of malicious amusement shining through, her tone practically begging for a fight. “Emily? Rosalind? Oh, I remember now.”
“Precious Emma.” Her eyes glittered dangerously. “Does your darling still bear my scar?”
As the clouds passed over the moonlight, shrouding them in darkness, Edward’s infallible smile faltered. The mention of his fiancée twisted his features. For the first time, his face was shrouded.
“If it weren’t for the Lord of Feldgrau,” Edward hissed through clenched teeth. “I would have already sent hundreds of assassins after you, Raven General.”
“Don’t let my husband stop you,” Faye merely grinned as if welcoming the challenge. “You’re more than welcome to try.”
“Forget it,” he dismissed. “That would make it too easy.”
“And maybe this is your punishment,” Edward’s eyes gleamed with a hungry light. His dark orbs reflected nothing but false sympathy. “Wenge’s beloved Raven General, alone in enemy territory. Hated by her own husband. Is that how your people repay their great savior? I think I almost feel for you,” his lips twisted cruelly. “Lady of Feldgrau.”
Faye scoffed. She crossed her arms and turned away. “Nikolai doesn’t hate me,” she muttered but her voice betrayed a brief waver, a crack in her usual confidence.
Edward tilted his head. Like a hunting dog who had gained the scent of its prey, his eyes lit up. “Don’t tell me… you’re in love with him?” The man crowed with delight at the wince the general tried to hide. But it was too late.
“Unthinkable,” he exclaimed.
“Shut up!” Faye growled. A bright flush filled her face, giving her true feelings away.
“Pathetic. But oh, so fitting.” Edward’s voice lowered to a sickeningly satisfied tone. “For the blood that stains your hands and the cruelty that you hold in your heart, you deserve nothing less, demoness.”
Faye flinched at the words. “You think I don’t know that?”
She tried to recover with a shaky laugh.
Although the confidence in her amber eyes faded, Faye stared the other man down. “You cocky bastard,” she said softly. “You really think I won’t strike you down where you stand?” Her words were biting. “Do you think you can beat me?”
“I know I can’t best you,” Edward admitted easily. “But if you were planning to kill me, you would have already done so,” Edward smirked, reply ready at the tongue.
“Something,” his eyes flickered to the two men beside her. “Or someone is holding you back.”
Suddenly, Edward’s dark eyes widened, and he sidestepped in shock. The smile never left his face, but his gaze was locked on the dagger aimed straight at his chest.
Faye’s mouth dropped open in surprise. As did Cristin’s.
“That’s enough,” said the masked man, voice barely audible. Although his face was concealed, there was a darkness shrouding the man as he towered over the other. Although he was barely taller than Edward and certainly leaner than the muscular lieutenant, there was an air of authority that he seemed to command. “Lord Nikolai would not be pleased to hear you disrespect the lady in such a way.”
There was a pause, heavy and suffocating.
For a brief moment, it seemed Edward might respond, but then he deflated. Edward sighed, shoulders dropping. “I apologize,” he stared at the masked man and raised his hands in surrender, albeit reluctantly. “I meant no offense to the lord.”
The masked man stared silently, stance firm.
“This was messier than expected,” Edward flashed a grin as he turned to go. “I shall take my leave now then.” And with that, he threw one final smirk over his shoulder. “Until the next battle, Raven General.”
Faye snorted ungracefully.
And like that, the smiling man disappeared back into the shadows he had seemingly emerged from.
Meanwhile, Cristin heaved a sigh of relief. The attendant couldn’t quite decide who to chastise.
The masked man sheathed his dagger, shooting Faye a glance, but the woman had her back turned to them, face hidden by shadows.
“My lady,” the masked man studied her tense shoulders and the hand still resting by her sword. “Are you…” his voice trailed off, unsure how to finish the question.
Faye snorted again, but her next words were blunt, hinting at the seriousness in her words. “Is that man your friend or enemy?”
There was a short pause.
“We have no reason to think of him as an enemy,” explained the masked man softly, meeting her gaze.
“That’s good,” Faye’s shoulders relaxed. Her hand slid into the pockets of her cloak. “That man is dangerous. His tactics have killed many of my best men.” With a grimace, she nodded towards the direction where Edward had disappeared off to. “He is not someone you want as an enemy.”
Beside them, Cristin sighed loudly. “It’s not like we don’t know that. In fact, things were going quite well,” he turned to shoot Faye an unimpressed glare. “Until someone showed up. I thought you two were going to fight.”
“Ah, Edward’s just bitter,” Faye dismissed carelessly. “Once, I held his fiancée as a hostage.” She smiled gleefully, rubbing her hands together as if recalling a fond memory. “It was only once, but he was furious at the scar I left on her pretty neck. You should have seen his face,” she shivered in mock fear before laughing, “What a petty man!”
The masked man placed a tired hand to his head, before realizing that he couldn’t exactly rub his forehead through the mask. He lowered his arm awkwardly.
Cristin stared at the sky. “Why am I even surprised?”
The Raven General waved a dismissive hand in the air. “I’m not as violent prone as you think.”
“Oh yeah?” Cristin crossed his arms, suddenly petulant. “The bruises on Darcy say otherwise.”
Faye rolled her eyes, the dark mood from before having all but vanished. “Darcy is a good opponent,” she said with a playful shrug. “But if he didn’t want to spar, I wouldn’t force him to.”
At that, Cristin was at a loss for words. Darcy was far from defenseless, and he did seem happy sparring with the woman. Still, Cristin felt petty for the sake of it.
Turning on his heels, Cristin grunted in response. “Come on,” he gestured at the masked lord. “Let’s go.”
But to his surprise, the Raven General slid in between the two of them. She held out her arms, blocking the lord from Cristin’s view. “I’m afraid the Snowfox can’t go with you.”
Cristin’s brows pinched in confusion. Snowfox? Shaking his head, he decided to humor the general. “And why is that?”
Faye puffed out her chest. “Nikolai has assigned him to me,” she placed her arms at her hips. “As my personal guard for tonight.”
A stunned silence filled the air as all three mulled over the statement, slowly processing it.
Cristin stared at the young woman like she had sprouted a second head. “And when exactly did he say that?”
Faye crossed her arms, refusing to meet his eyes. Instead, she casually glanced off to a spot in the distance. “Some time ago, right before I left.”
Cristin’s eye twitched at the blatant lie. He threw his hands up in the air. “And how would he do that when he’s standing right-Mph!” His words were abruptly cut off. Cristin struggled at the firm hand covering his mouth, but it was a futile effort.
Nikolai used his height against the other, cutting off any more protests before the secret could spill.
He turned to Faye, who was still studiously avoiding eye contact. What was the point of lying if she couldn’t even stare them in the face? A sly grin tugged at his lips.
“Lord Cristin,” he began, voice smooth. “The Lord must have forgotten to mention it but he has indeed ordered me to…” he stared expectantly at Faye.
At the words, Faye perked up. “To accompany and guard me as I attend the festival,” she filled in. Amber orbs widened to an exaggerated state, as her lips trembled frightfully, feigning fright. “Who knows what evil assassins or mean thugs could be lurking around?”
Cristin shot her a deadpan expression, entirely unimpressed by the act. “Since when do you need protection?”
“Since today,” Faye sneered. She reached over Cristin to pull the masked man to her side with ease. To both of their surprise, the taller man went without protest. Faye grinned, “Now, if you’ll excuse us…”
“Wait!” interjected the attendant, staring incredulously at the two. His exasperated expression darted towards Nikolai, desperately trying to read the expression behind the mask. “Do you actually want to go?” Cristin had a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that his lord would want to go to a festival… something he had shown no prior interest in.
“If my liege commands it,” responded the masked man airily. “Then I suppose I have no choice.”
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Cristin’s jaw dropped open. “But,” he squinted hard at his lord, “what about our plan?”
Seizing on the opportunity with unrestrained glee, Faye burst forward. “Exactly. No choice! You heard him!” Gripping the masked man’s hand in a tight grasp, she pulled him away from the stunned attendant. “Bye, Cristin,” she cried over her shoulder.
The attendant could only watch in disbelief as the two figures, one dressed in red silk and the other in dark blue, entwined with one another as they raced down the streets. All too soon, they disappeared into the crowd, swallowed up by the sea of people also attending the festivities.
Cristin could only drag a tired hand across his face and groan to himself. “I hope you know what you’re doing, my lord.”
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“Weapon production?” Lord Vellward recoiled, stoic face contorting in shock. “Are you certain of this?”
The queen’s Hound knelt humbly in the grand room of Eburean’s royal throne room. “That is what the letter claimed,” he answered evenly.
“However, we have been unable to track the merchant who sent it.” The Hound’s voice grew hesitant. “It could be nothing more than the ramblings of a man stirring trouble. Before he disappeared, he demanded payment in exchange for the forge’s exact location, but we know it is in a remote village, likely in the Borderlands.”
“Incompetent as always,” snapped the queen, finally speaking. Her voice twinged with disdain. “Find this merchant at once and bring him to me.”
“My queen,” started Lord Vellward cautiously. “Surely, you cannot believe such baseless claims. A weapon’s forge in a remote village? It is…” he struggled to find the right word, face turning redder by the second. The old minister’s composed demeanor slipped. “Absurd. The Lord of Feldgrau possesses neither the means nor desire for such an endeavor.”
“How do we know that?” the queen countered sharply, her gaze narrowing. “All these years in the borderlands, we thought he was wasting away. But what if we were wrong?”
Rewanna exhaled heavily and leaned back on her gilded throne. It did seem absurd, but the possibility irked her beyond measure. This was likely a false alarm… but if it were true and Nikolai was truly building the means for war. Rewanna’s brows knitted in concern.
She turned to the Hound. “Have your men arrest Nikolai.”
“My queen!” Lord Vellward’s voice rose in protest. “Please think this through. The people adore the Ice Prince. If you drag an innocent man through the streets over an unproven rumor, it will ruin your reputation.”
“Innocent? Illegal weapon production is treason!” screeched the queen. Her fury echoed in the empty throne room. “I could have him executed for this!”
“Based on what proof?” argued the minister. His sharp eyes turned to pin down the silent Hound. “A letter from a missing merchant?” He turned back to the enraged woman, hoping to placate her. “Your Majesty, with the king’s declining health, the realm is already fragile. If you command this, the consequence could be irreparable. Do not give the Lord of Feldgrau’s men a need to fight us!”
“And if it is true?” Rewanna glared down at the minister. “If Nikolai is planning to usurp my throne, my son’s throne- What then?” Her sharp nails dug into the armrests of her throne. “If he were not royalty, there would be no question in having him arrested for such suspicions.”
“But he is a prince,” replied Lord Vellward firmly, even in the face of the queen’s furious glower. “That is the truth whether you wish to acknowledge it or not. Furthermore, if this forge truly exists,” his eyes narrowed, “we do not know where it is. And whether or not Nikolai is involved in this! If we act rashly, the borderlands may seek revenge. It could ignite a civil war, Your Majesty!”
“Let them try,” huffed Rewanna, dismissing his concerns without hesitation. “They are hungry and weak. We will crush them easily.”
“And begin our children’s reign with such a bad omen?” Lord Vellward sighed, frustration bubbling through the sharp words.
The queen was not foolish, but when it came to the Ice Prince, she became half-crazed. Any issue concerning Nikolai unleashed a vicious bout of irrational instability within the woman. Lord Vellward couldn’t understand why she feared the boy so much. In his experience, his wayward student never once lived up to his expectations.
“We must crush any resistance at its root, but not with violence. Not yet,” assured the minister. “My queen, a show of wisdom and benevolence will fracture any insurrection more effectively than bloodshed. The people don’t want another war.”
The queen frowned. But seeing her pause, the minister hurried to continue. This may be his only chance to prevent things from turning sour.
“My queen, let me talk with the Lord of Feldgrau,” Lord Vellward planned to knock some sense into the foolish boy and persuade him to return to Feldgrau at once. “He respects me as his former teacher. I can persuade him to-“but Lord Vellward was harshly cut off.
“Talk to him? And give him the chance to plot his escape? No,” sneered Rewanna, expression filling with disdain. Her dark eyes met the wise minister’s. “Do you want to know what my issue with Nikolai is, Lord Vellward? I can see the curiosity in your eyes.”
The minister suppressed a sigh, crafting his expression into a neutral one. “Please enlighten me, my queen.”
“He is an unbearable thorn in my side,” spit the queen. “An enigma poised for poisoning our people against us. I’ve seen it before. People flock to his side, willing to follow him, for some reason that is beyond me.”
Straightening, Rewanna towered over him, peering down from her throne. “Killing Nikolai would be easy.” Her every word was measured, deliberate. “I could order it now, and he would be dead before the sun even rose.”
Lord Vellward frowned at the nonchalance. The queen spoke of murder so easily. As though it were a minor inconvenience.
The weight of the queen’s words settled over the room, chilling the air. Suddenly, the minister felt acutely aware of the multiple eyes watching them. Guards, trained and armed, lined the walls, each extremely loyal to the royal family.
And then there was the Hound.
The silent man continued kneeling in front of the queen. It was said that one hound was worth a dozen assassins in lethality and efficiency. When the king was well, they were barely present, but now, they seemed to lurk in every corner of the castle, all acting under the command of the queen. The reality of that power was not lost on the minister. Despite his years of experience and careful composure, unease began to settle in his chest. Had the throne room always stationed so many guards?
“For now, ending Nikolai would bring more trouble than it’s worth,” sighed Rewanna, tone laced with disappointment. “I once thought his self-imposed exile to Feldgrau would be enough to eliminate the threat he poses to the crown prince. I was mistaken.”
“What I need,” Rewanna continued, her voice hardening, “is a way to humiliate and destroy him.” Her lips, painted a bright shade of crimson, twisted into a cruel smirk. “To tarnish his reputation so thoroughly not even his father would save him.”
Lord Vellward was suddenly reminded of a viper, hissing its tail in warning before striking and going for a kill.
The queen turned her sharp gaze to the kneeling servant. “Tell me, Hound,” she gazed at the man like he was less than the dirt on her dress. “Since you’ve embarrassed me in front of the minister, give me a reason why I shouldn’t strip you of your rank and position. Some captain you’ve been.”
Lord Vellward watched as the Hound raised his head. Something unreadable flashed in the man’s eyes. The Hounds were trained from birth to be tools for the crown, renowned for their great skill and unwavering loyalty. The royal family’s secret weapons. But what would happen, the minister wondered idly, if that weapon ever turned on its master?
“My queen, I will take any punishment you see fit. However,” the Hound’s voice was steady as he rose to his feet. “I bring other news.”
Rewanna waved a hand impatiently. “Then speak.”
“A courtesan approached me with information,” started the Hound. “She claims that Lord Nikolai…” his voice trailed off deliberately.
Lord Vellward tensed, noticing the subtle provocation.
The queen, predictably, leaned forward. The crazed glint returned to her eyes. “Well? What did she say?”
To be played in such a way by a servant, Lord Vellward chided inwardly, the queen really was too predictable.
“She claims the Ice Prince has been meeting with Langard at the Lucky Charm,” revealed the Hound.
The minister’s eyes widened in shock. “Lord Langard?”
The Hound ignored him to continue, “The courtesan is willing to testify in court, in exchange for her sister’s protection.”
“She is the sister of the artist,” the queen realized.
The Hound nodded solemnly.
“Nikolai must have realized I spoke with the artist,” hissed the queen. “We cannot give him more time to scheme.” The queen raised a hand to summon her guards forward. “I want both sisters arrested. Have them detained in the royal dungeons. We cannot allow Nikolai or his men to get to them first!”
“Arrest them?” The command seemed to startle even the Hound. “On what charges, my queen? The courtesan came forward willingly, surely there is no need to-“
“Are you defying an order?” snarled the queen. “Have them both arrested for indecency and treason. With her sister’s life on the line, I’m sure your courtesan will deliver a very persuasive testimony.”
Behind his back, the Hound’s hand trembled. The indifferent mask suddenly cracked for a moment.
“Your Majesty,” Lord Vellward stepped forward before the queen noticed. “I implore you to wait until the morning. If the sisters work in such an establishment,” the minister crossed his arms, “there will be many eyes on them at night. The Lord of Feldgrau will hear of it immediately.“
“Very well,” acquiesced the queen, settling back. “Hound, arrest the sisters in the morning. And Lord Vellward.”
The minister bowed his head in submission. “Yes, my queen?”
“Summon all of the ministers for the morning court.” She turned back to the Hound. “Tomorrow morning, you will send your men to the Prince’s Residence as well as the Langard Residence.”
Lord Vellward swallowed back a protest. An uneasy feeling rose in his throat.
“I don’t care if you have to drag them through the streets. Use any means to bring those two to the court,” ordered the queen.
“You are right, Lord Vellward,” she picked halfheartedly at her sharp nails. “We must crush the resistance at its weakest.”
Unable to hold himself back, Lord Vellward could only ask, “What are you planning?”
Rewanna only smiled, eyes gleaming in dark satisfaction at the question.
“The courtesan will testify tomorrow,” she said lightly. “And if the court finds them guilty, Nikolai and Lord Langard shall be tried and punished for treason.”
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“Do you think the lord is okay?” whispered the attendant, nudging the carriage master. The two turned to stare back into the carriage, casting a wary glance towards Lord Vellward’s prone form, seated motionlessly.
The esteemed minister had stumbled out of the castle with an eerily blank expression. Even with the attendant’s help, the older minister had almost tripped over the steps of his own carriage, sending both driver and attendant into a quiet panic. When he had finally settled into his seat, he softly asked them to head towards the Langard residence.
“Why would he want to go there?” whispered the attendant, biting at his nails. Not only was the hour late, but… “Everyone knows our lord hates General Langard!”
The old carriage master had been working with the Vellward family since he was a boy. “In all my years, I’ve never seen the master like this,” he murmured, weathered face etched with worry.
The two exchanged uneasy looks.
Inside the carriage, the minister sat in deep thought. He stared listlessly outside. “Damn you, Nikolai,” he muttered under his breath.
Never once had his student done as he wished. The boy, now a man, was brighter than most wizened scholars, a talented genius among the masses. But for all his gifts, Nikolai had been the source of many of the minister’s grand headaches.
Weapon production, discontented borderlands, secret meetings with Langard. It was clear now that the Lord of Feldgrau sat at the center of it all, pulling the invisible strings.
Lord Vellward pinched the bridge of his nose. Not long ago, he had thought the Morning Day would usher in a simpler life. He had expected his days to be filled only with worries about his daughter’s wedding and preparing for his family’s ascension into royalty.
And then Nikolai, after years of refusing to step out of the borderlands, had returned.
The reappearance would only bring trouble, he remembered thinking. Lord Vellward sighed. If only he had known, he thought bitterly, just how much trouble Nikolai would bring.
In hindsight, he blamed his own short-sightedness. Lord Vellward had fallen for Nikolai’s quiet demeanor like the rest of the court. He had convinced himself that the second prince would live out his days silently, content to fade into the background, detached from the kingdom’s affairs.
“Such a fool,” muttered the old minister, no longer certain who he spoke of.
Beyond the confines of the carriage, another figure shuffled aimlessly down the empty streets. Rufus dragged his feet, each step heavy with exhaustion.
He pushed down a yawn and rubbed at his itchy eyes. It had been endless nights of research and planning, trying desperately to concoct a plan to save Elody.
So far… none were good enough. The young lord clenched his fists. “Useless.”
As Rufus came into view, Lord Vellward’s sharp eyes widened with sudden recognition. “Stop!”
Before the driver had time to pull the reins, the respected minister practically threw himself out of the moving carriage in his haste.
“Langard boy!” called the older man, his usual composure abandoned. “Halt!”
Startled, Rufus turned. Seeing Lord Vellward, haggard and out of breath, he practically jumped back in shock.
“Lord Vellward!” Hastily, Rufus dipped into a bow, attempting to form an acceptable greeting. “It is good to see you?” The boy’s mind raced, trying to comprehend why the man was addressing him of all people. Even though his older brother worked with the esteemed minister, Rufus assumed the older man scarcely knew of his existence. “How can I help you, my lord?”
Curious gazes fixed on the unusual sight. The same question rang in every onlooker’s mind. Why would the great Lord Vellward seek out the fool of the Langard family?
Feeling the weight of the stares, Lord Vellward leaned in close. “Tell me the truth, boy,” the minister lowered his voice, but it did nothing to lessen the urgency in his words. “Your family’s lives depend on it.”
Rufus froze, confusion and fear flickering across his face. “Sir,” he began hesitantly, “If this matter is urgent, perhaps you should wait until Father-“
“There is no time to wait for that fool,” snapped the minister, patience thinning. “Langard, is it true? Is your father planning a coup with the Lord of Feldgrau?”
Rufus stumbled back, practically falling over in shock. His instincts urged him to react, to scream and protest the claim, to do anything- But he found himself staring stupidly at the minister. His mouth gaped like a fish out of water.
The man wanted to shake the boy. “This is serious, boy! A courtesan is being brought in to testify tomorrow morning! The Hounds will bring your father in for a trial right alongside the Ice Prince!”
Rufus’ breath hitched. There was only one courtesan who Lord Vellward could be referring to. “Elody,” he whispered, face paling even further.
Lord Vellward’s sudden impulsiveness faded slightly, giving way to doubt. Suddenly embarrassed, he tried to regain his composure. “What am I doing?” he muttered.
The youngest Langard was a fool, a fact everyone including his own son continually assured him of. Compared to his two accomplished older brothers, Langard’s youngest seemed destined for mediocrity at best, and infamy at worst. Would such a person really know of his father’s dealings? It was unlikely.
But still.
Loathe as he was to admit this about his rival, Langard was no fool. He was a cunning adversary, one who rarely acted without reason.
Lord Vellward’s jaw tightened. With a shake of his head, he dismissed the train of thought.
“Never mind,” he dismissed brusquely. “Forget I said anything.”
Climbing back into his carriage, Lord Vellward signaled the driver to move on. “Head home.”
As the carriage began to roll away, the minister spared another glance for the boy, who still stood frozen in place. He felt a pang of sympathy.
“Curiosity,” cursed the minister. “That’s all it was.” He was merely curious if the boy knew anything about the matter, Lord Vellward was certainly not indirectly warning his greatest rival in hopes the boy would go to his father. No, of course not. That would be absurd.
It was only after the carriage disappeared from sight that Rufus managed to regain a bit of his wits. His chest tightened as a gnawing sense of dread crept over him.
“This is bad,” he realized faintly. His thoughts finally settled as the weight of Lord Vellward’s words sank in.
What could he do? He couldn’t go to his father or brothers. They wouldn’t even believe him. Coming up with an alibi or destroying the evidence would take too long, the sun would rise in a few hours. Rufus grabbed at his head, groaning.
“By the gods, this is really bad.”