[WEST VILLA]
G6 and the others had returned to West Villa in the dead of night. Now, in the pre-dawn stillness, the manor felt like a tomb.
"So, this is your den, Reise?" Daunt materialized, already padding around the perimeter of her room, sniffing at the furnishings with curiosity.
"You're supposed to be a secret. Stop popping in and out whenever you feel like it," G6 said, her voice flat. She glanced around the empty sitting area. "And where is everyone?"
"Are you quite serious? It is four in the morning. Even the most diligent of servants require sleep."
"What the—? Off the couch. On the floor," G6 ordered, pointing. "Tina will have questions about the fur."
"Is this 'Tina' the maid from your childhood? And why are you being so disagreeable?"
"Because I despise unnecessary social obligations. I already regret embedding myself at the Collegium." She shed her outer cloak with a frustrated gesture. "We're back to boring work in a few hours. This sucks."
"Hmm. Or perhaps you have already secured what you wanted from that institution and now wish to focus your considerable energies elsewhere," Daunt mused, leaping gracefully to the floor with a soft thud.
"Whatever."
"What is it, exactly? I told you, Reise—our souls are bound. To an extent, so are our emotions. And I can sense something has been festering within you."
G6 was silent for a long moment, staring out the dark window. "It's just… I feel like a hypocrite. When I first arrived here, lost, I tried to… assimilate. I found Reise's diary. I don't know if it was pity or obligation, but I said those cringe-worthy words about living her life to the fullest." Her voice dropped, devoid of its usual edge. "The truth is, I don't even know what 'living' is supposed to feel like. I feel like a hollow machine that's had its core programming wiped."
"'Machine'? Be that as it may, Reise, what do you truly feel about the people here? Those who have been with you for over a month now."
"They don't… hold significant value." The admission was clinical. "I thought if I tried new things—things from my old world's stories, the cliché tropes—it might generate something. Fun. Excitement. When I went on that first hunting task, it didn't bring any sense of thrill. It just felt… procedural."
Her expression hardened, the shadows deepening under her eyes. "Until the cliff road. There… I felt alive. It felt more like me. It's difficult to suppress your fundamental nature. You understand?"
"I do," Daunt said, his voice a low rumble Poor child, he thought, her purpose in this world is already set, whether she wants it or not
"So why not simply exist in the present? Act according to your nature until your purpose reveals itself to you."
"That's what I've been doing. Hiding in the shadows isn't new to me. It's more authentic than pretending to be a noble."
"Well, you were reborn in a different time and place. It's a steep learning curve."
"Aren't you going to ask about the things I say? The words that make me sound like two different people?" G6 turned to look at him directly.
"You owe me no explanations, child. I have lived for millennia. I have seen souls far more fractured than yours find their way."
"Make sense." She let out a short breath, the tension in her shoulders easing minutely. "Anyway, I've got to clock in at the Collegium at eight o'clock. We might as well make use of the time." She stood and walked to her desk, retrieving the ancient, cold-textured tome of Cryomancy from its drawer. "Let's see what forbidden knowledge we can digest before the sun comes up."
—-❈-—
"Of the Celestial Will, when the Heavens conspired to still the endless pool of blood, there was born Cryomancy.
It was the purest divine blessing, a shard of cosmic order given form.
Yet it seeks a, and its one law is this: the soul must be a reflection of its own nature—a keeper of balance, a weaver of stillness.
But lo, it shuns not the soul touched by shadow, if that shadow was cast by another.
It turns from the self-made stain, yet embraces the one marked by the sins of monsters in sheep's clothing.
For such a soul knows the cost of chaos, and the precious weight of peace.
Thus is Cryomancy bestowed: the power to bind the writhing chaos, to still the hidden evil that lurks in the world's dark corners.
So that, under its crystalline guard, the innocent may rest in untroubled silence.
Again.
Only one who kills can wield.
Thus ends the First Knowing."
"Freaks," G6 muttered, then turned the page.
"Of the Taking-Up of the Blessing, two gates must be passed: first, a Death; then, a Rebirth. The mortal self is shed that the appointed vessel may be filled.
Yet to wield and strengthen the Gift, one covenant stands above all: thou must align thy will with the Celestial Mandate of Order. Thy purpose is to scourge the world of those monsters who wear the skin of mortals, to see the corruption beneath the flesh and render it still and pure.
Heed the warnings written in the vessel's own flesh:
Shouldst thou wield the Gift before a new start of sacred cleansing, a cold ache shall gather in thy heart, a frost of divine displeasure.
Shouldst thou turn its edge against the innocent, thy heart shall be pierced as by a shard of everlasting ice, and cease its beat forever.
For this blessing seeks not the ambitious, nor the vengeful in their own name.
It seeks only the vessel whose soul, though perhaps scarred by the world's evil, holds no greed for its power—one who understands the duty is a burden, and the power, a solemn chain.
Thus ends the Second Knowing."
"This is too much poetry," she grumbled.
"Reise, you comprehend the tome's meaning, yes?" Daunt asked, peering over from the couch as she sat on the floor.
"Yeah. I'm not internalizing it, though. I just like the part about 'cleaning.'" G6's tone was flippant. "Let's check the spells. I tried making a little ice to trip Edmund once, and it felt like my heart froze for a second. Probably because I hadn't done any 'cleansing' yet."
Daunt gave a low grumble. "Proceed with caution."
"Hmm. 'Fracture Point.' A precise 'shot' of cold that targets the structural weakness of an object, making it explode like glass." She looked up. "A bomb?"
"A mana blast, but more elegant! And colder. Get it? 'Cooler.'" Daunt's tail gave a single, proud thump.
"Keep your comedy to yourself. Next." She turned the page.
"'Frost Shear'?" Daunt read aloud.
"A thin, invisible blade of absolute-zero wind that cuts through armor by making the metal turn brittle and snap." G6 nodded slowly. "You know, ice magic is legitimately cool. And these are just the basics."
Daunt rumbled in agreement. "Reise! Check the intermediate spells."
G6 turned the page. "'Rime Lock.' The moisture in the air is instantly turned into 'heavy' frost that pins an enemy to the ground with sheer weight."
She scanned the next entry. "'Phase Anchor.' Freezing the 'motion' of magic itself, allowing the user to literally catch an enemy's attack in their hand like a solid stone."
"That is lit," Daunt declared.
"Do you even know what 'lit' means?"
"No, but you use it when you find something exceptional. Hurry! The high-level spells!"
"We haven't finished the mid-tier yet. Stop skipping."
"Reise, the book has no feet. It will not run away."
"Ugh. Fine." G6 flipped ahead to the section on advanced spells.
"Hmm. 'Stillpoint Reclamation.' The caster chooses a single moment—a fracture in fate's ice. They then expend their entire essence to isolate that fragment of time, causing all causality to flow around it as they force it to thaw, re-form, and re-freeze correctly. The rest of reality remains untouched, but the caster's soul bears the frostburn of having personally re-sculpted a piece of eternity." She paused. "Wait. This sounds similar to one of my skills."
"Which one?"
"'Author's Decree.' It's also a skill to manipulate a small piece of reality. It says it drains all my mana."
"But you cannot truly drain your mana, Reise. Your reserves are immense, and you draw from the environment. Examine it."
"Good point." G6 focused. "Status Window."
The familiar blue hologram shimmered into existence. She tapped on Author's Decree. The description read: Rewrites a single, small rule of reality within immediate vicinity once per day. (Drained all your mana). Below it, in smaller, almost cheerful text, was an addendum: EDITED: You can use this without straining your mana due to your training. CONGRATS!
"What the hell is with the friendly tone? And Reise, you must understand—summoning a Status Window is not trivial. You always need to use a tool for it, like the sphere or somehow a different shape of status window tool. Only direct subjects of All-seers can summon one without needing any tool." Daunt said, his voice serious.
"I am not surprised if I am one of their so-called 'direct subjects' and couldn't careless, but what exactly is the difference?"
"*Sighs* Perhaps 'Author's Decree' allows you to alter a small, immediate reality—a few seconds, a minor rule. 'Stillpoint Reclamation' seems to allow you to select a specific moment in time to mend, without affecting the broader flow. The cost is proportionally harsher—frost etching your very soul until you recover."
"You're smarter than you look." G6 jest
"Insult noted. Now, the next—"
G6 held up a hand, her head tilting. "Someone's approaching. Hide, Daunt."
G6 didn't move from her spot on the floor, merely waited for the door to open. It was Tina, peering cautiously into the dim room.
"Is Lady Reise not home yet?" she murmured to herself, eyeing the neatly made, empty bed.
"I'm right here, hon."
Tina startled, a hand flying to her chest. "Lady Reise! What are you doing sitting on the floor in the dark?"
"I felt like it. How was the house while I was away?" G6 asked, her tone casual as she closed the Cryomancy tome with a soft thud.
"Quiet, my lady. What time did you return?"
"Stop asking questions," G6 said, the words delivered with a sharp, sarcastic smile. "I suppose it's time to resume the charade."
"Will you be wearing a dress today?" Tina asked, already moving toward the wardrobe.
"Yes."
"Lady Brenda sent over two new dresses for you. One in black, one in beige. She said they were more to your... taste." Tina opened the wardrobe doors, revealing the garments.
"Brenda did? Let me see." G6 rose and perched on the edge of her bed.
Tina held up the two dresses. Both were elegant, with sleek lines and daring thigh slits—beautiful, but undeniably bold.
"Well, she actually has taste," G6 remarked, sitting on the edge of her bed and eyeing the black one. "I'll go with the black. It fits my mood."
"A fine choice, my lady," Tina said, starting to prep the accessories. "Will you be joining the others for breakfast later?"
"No. In fact, don't tell anyone I'm back yet," G6 instructed, her voice dropping into a business-like coldness. "If anyone asks, tell them I went straight to the Collegium. I don't feel like dealing with dramatic people before I've had my coffee."
Tina nodded, used to her mistress's increasingly eccentric and secretive behavior. "As you wish, Lady Reise."
»»---------❈---------««
[DINING HALL - 7:00 AM]
The atmosphere in the dining hall was thick with early-morning irritability.
"Why are we even here?" Keith whined, dragging his feet as he entered.
"Stop whining," Earl countered, pulling out a chair. "Do you remember what Alistair told Prince Dio when he refused breakfast here the other day? 'None of you will be getting food if you make a fuss.' I, for one, would like to eat."
"Right, that grumpy old man," Keith muttered, slumping into his seat.
"Good morning, everyone," Eliza chirped, entering the room with her two servants trailing behind like shadows. Keith gave a lazy wave of his hand in response.
"I miss Lady Reise!" Brenda yelped as she burst into the room.
"Manners, Brenda," Earl warned.
She flopped into the seat beside Eliza. "Whatever."
"Isn't she supposed to be back by now?" Keith asked, scanning the room as if she might appear.
Janin entered then, pushing a cart laden with covered dishes. "Good morning, not-so young lords and ladies." She began distributing plates with quiet efficiency.
"Hurtful, Miss Jan" Keith said smiling.
"Only four settings?" Earl noted.
"Prince Dio will not be joining you; he departed for the main palace last night," Janin explained.
"Ah. Understood."
"What about Reise? She's not back yet?" Keith pressed.
"I could not say, Lord Keith. Please, enjoy your meal." With a practiced smile, Janin retreated.
"Eat well, everyone. We have a demanding session awaiting us in the training arena," Earl advised.
"Right, the knights are back. Can't imagine the chaos in the dormitory right now," Keith said around a mouthful.
"Oh, the knights from the border expedition? Have they returned?" Eliza asked, joining the conversation.
"Unfortunately, yes. Total buzzkill," Brenda said, rolling her eyes.
"Are they… problematic?" Eliza's voice held a note of concern.
"Problematic? Give me a break, Miss Eliza. Those guys have a superiority complex thicker than the palace walls." Brenda's expression shifted to one of wicked glee. "But the Five Angels outclass them in everything. Their faces? Divine. Their magic power? In the name of the God of Eldrin, they're strong. Strong strong. S-Rank."
"S-Rank..." Eliza whispered, her eyes widening. "They sound reliable. I would love to meet them."
"You'll probably meet the whole lot of them at the training arena eventually," Brenda added.
"Regarding that, I would advise you to maintain a prudent distance," Earl interjected, his tone careful.
"Why? Am I not permitted to acquaint myself with those I may one day serve alongside?" Eliza's face fell. "I suppose… it is because I am a commoner."
Keith's eyes narrowed. Earl looked genuinely troubled. "Miss Eliza, Earl is merely cautioning you, as I said—they're snobs and trouble. He meant no disparagement of your standing," Brenda said quickly.
"Indeed. It is only concern for your well-being," Earl affirmed.
"What a relief. And it is an honor that you would worry for me, Lord Earl." Eliza beamed.
Keith stood abruptly after only a few bites. "I'm heading out. Things to do."
"Already? Alistair will be displeased." Earl asked.
"Get off my back, Earl." Without another word, Keith stalked from the room.
"That's weird," Brenda murmured, watching him go. "Keith looks... actually pissed."
»»---------❈---------««
[Bastion of Phalanx]
Keith entered the building, where the normally serene halls now echoed with the low din of knights in training gear.
"Good morning, Lord Keith," a noble staff member greeted. Keith offered only a distracted nod.
"Gods, I heard those knights picked a fight with the recruits in the dorm last night."
"Already? They only returned yesterday."
"At least they'll be busy tormenting the commoners now, not us."
The murmured gossip of the regular staff followed him like a shadow.
Keith took the stairs two at a time, whistling a tuneless note, when he spotted Tina walking briskly down the corridor toward G6's office.
He sped up and fell into step beside her. "Yo! Tina," he said, waving a hand in her periphery.
"Good morning, Lord Keith." Tina offered a curt, professional nod.
"So, is Reise here?"
"Yes, she arrived early. She is in her office."
"Really? I'll head there first, then!" The annoyance that had clung to him since breakfast evaporated. He broke into a jog, leaving Tina behind.
He reached the office and threw the door open.
There, behind the desk, sat a woman in a dress of dazzling, elegant black. She was bent over a sprawling document, her posture rigid. It was G6, yet not. The usual cold mask was gone, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated annoyance. Her brow was deeply furrowed, her mouth a thin line of exasperation as her hand scribbled across the page with violent intent.
"I can't believe I'm doing this shit," she muttered to the offending paperwork.
"Reise! I missed you!" Keith chirped, his voice bright.
G6 didn't look up. Her scowl deepened. "Great. Another freak."
The scratch of G6's pen was the only sound in the office, a rhythmic, abrasive noise that grated against the silence.
"Oh, come on! You were gone for three days, and all we get is endless drills. My rank hasn't budged," Keith muttered, dragging a chair to sit opposite G6's desk.
"Your personal stagnation is not my concern," she replied, her pen never stopping.
"Right. Where's the little one?" Keith asked, noticing Lilia's absence.
"Lilia is assisting Edmund at the moment," Tina answered from her post near the door.
"So, Reise. You're done with the training arena?" Keith pressed.
"Unlike some, I have already achieved my objective," she said, finally looking up. Her gaze was flat, dismissing.
"Lucky you." Keith sighed, his shoulders dropping. "But I don't know how much longer this 'special training' will last. It feels like we're just hitting a wall."
"Get out," G6 stated.
Keith pouted dramatically. "Hey! Why don't we go watch the new recruit training? Now that the knights are back, it's finally starting!"
G6's writing hand paused for a fraction of a second. "Hmm… no." She resumed her scribbling.
"Aren't you even curious about the 'Five Angels'? S-Rank, you know! Legends! Some aren't even from the main family lines." Keith leaned forward, trying to bait her interest.
G6 let out a dry, mocking scoff. She remembered their faces from the forest—their hesitation, their slow reactions, and their misplaced pride. To her, they weren't legends; they were just targets she hadn't bothered to hit yet.
Keith tilted his head, confused by her reaction. "Then again, I forgot how much you hate drama. Those knights are being real assholes this morning anyway."
"Explain," G6 murmured, her interest finally piqued.
"Interesting…" G6 murmured, her eyes narrowing slightly.
A slow, predatory smirk spread across G6's face. She set the pen down, the metal clattering against the desk.
"Wouldn't the training arena be the perfect stage for them to flex that authority?" G6 said,
"That's the spirit! Let's go!" Keith cheered, leaping to his feet.
Tina's shoulders slumped in silent resignation. She knew that look all too well.
"Alright." G6 stood, smoothing the sleek black fabric of her dress. "Tina, finish this." She gestured dismissively at the mountain of paperwork.
Before Tina could even formulate a protest, G6 was already gliding from the room, Keith following at her heels like an eager puppy on a walk.
—-❈-—
G6 and Keith took their positions on the upper stone bleachers, looking down at the massive sunken oval of the arena. Below, the training grounds were a hive of motion, but even from this height, the stench of ego was thick.
G6's gaze immediately landed on a familiar face leading the basic drills: Lieutenant Libert.
"Reise, look. See that man with the blonde hair? The one who looks like a painting come to life?" Keith gestured toward the center. "That's Lt. Frenz Libert. One of the 'Angels.'"
"Whatever," G6 muttered, her eyes scanning the uniforms. "Why am I looking at four different colors down there? It's a mess."
"Silver tops are the Silver Company. Gold is Gold Company. Bronze is, well, Bronze Company. The black ones are the new recruits."
"You call a group of less than a hundred a 'company'?" G6 murmured.
"What?" Keith tilted his head, confused.
"Nothing." G6 pivoted. This world doesn't even know how to name its units properly, she thought. Her eyes shifted to a corner of the field where a familiar, scrawny figure was trembling.
What was his name?... Pete. What's he doing here looking like a lost puppy?
"Hey Reise! Watch out—Silver's Chief is making his entrance," Keith said, nudging her and pointing to a man striding onto the field with an air of ingrained superiority.
"That's the first son of House Vinesthorne," Keith supplied, his voice dripping with distaste. "Just look at that smug face."
"And who is this insignificant pest?" G6 asked, digging for intel.
"Duh? Marquess Gerard Vinesthorne, head of an Upper Court house. They're the most influential family right below the former head."
Former head… Like the Marquess Sertiz Zero mentioned.
"Why do you think? He's the biggest snob. He's only a year older than me and got appointed Chief of Silver right out of the academy, thanks entirely to his father's influence. That's Rarlen Vinesthorne. A B-Rank affinity user. Yayks."
"That's a lot of venom for someone who, much like a certain slacker I know, only works here due to family reputation. We're not so different from that 'annoying face.'"
"What are you talking about? We are nothing alike! Why do you think I don't command a company? My father said I had to earn my place. And yes, his face is annoying. I wonder what he's preening about now."
"Surprised? You loser," G6 sneered.
"My goodness, you really are the biggest snob here," Keith joked, but they both snapped their attention to Rarlen's voice as it piped into their ears.
"—That's right. Silver Company bagged the serial killer in Klament Town," Rarlen was boasting to a circle of fawning knights. "That's why we and the Gold Company made it back first. The 'Five Angels' couldn't even track him, but to me? It was child's play."
"Whoa! You're the best, Lord Rarlen!" "Maybe a promotion to Lieutenant is next?"
"What a jerk," Keith muttered.
"Exhausting," G6 echoed, almost in unison.
"Well… at least they caught the rotten bastard," Keith conceded. "I suppose good for him, for doing one thing right."
"Then why do you look so disgusted?" G6 asked, noting his twisted expression.
"The bragging makes me sick."
"Are you lot just going to stand there all day?" Lieutenant Libert's voice cut through the group as he approached.
"Lieutenant Libert!"
"My, Lieutenant, don't be so dour," Rarlen said with false warmth.
"Why wouldn't I be? There are recruits who require your attention more than your… retelling of events."
Rarlen scoffed. "'Retelling'? Are you perhaps jealous that none of your so-called 'Five Angels' managed the capture?"
"Jealous? That's a bold accusation, Chief Rarlen Vinesthorne, especially from someone who failed to notice they were being eavesdropped on."
G6's eyebrows shot up. "He's not as useless as I thought," she muttered, referring to Libert's sensory range.
"We're caught, Reise!" Keith whispered, though he sounded thrilled.
"So?"
"This is so much fun!" Keith grinned.
Below, Rarlen spun around. "What? Who?!"
Libert simply pointed toward the high stone seats. Keith and G6 stood there in plain sight, looking down with cold, twin expressions that clearly shouted: We dared. What are you going to do about it?
"If they were an enemy, you'd be dead long before you could claim your reward," Libert said coolly, a smirk touching his lips. "Be more careful, Chief." With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Rarlen fuming in his wake.
"HAHAHAHA! HE LOOKS SO STUPID!" Keith burst out, doubled over in laughter.
"Cut it, you annoying rat," G6 said, though she didn't disagree. "But he is indeed an idiot."
»»---------❈---------««
[Main Palace, Throne Room]
The King and Queen sat upon the dais, the two Princes standing like sentinels beside their father's throne.
Just below, the three heads of the Pillars occupied their seats of honor. The vast room hummed with the muted chatter of assembled nobility.
"Silence." The King's command cut through the noise. "It is indeed a significant relief that the serial murderer who has plagued our lands for years has finally been apprehended. Credit is due to the Silver Company."
Captain Kepler, Vice Captain Cortez, and Lieutenant Nocturne stood at attention near the Pillars, their expressions impassive.
"This will bring peace to our people, who have lived in fear. We shall hold a public trial in three days."
"If I may speak, Your Majesty." Prince Dio took a measured step forward.
"What is it, Prince Dio?"
"I visited the dungeon and made a troubling discovery. The blood infused within the criminal contains traces of the long-lost affinity for Invisibility. As we all know, House Neviden perished with the late Count, leaving no heir and ending that bloodline."
"Your Highness, it could simply be a bastard line—" a noble from the Mid Court interjected.
"Allow me to finish before you leap to conclusions," Prince Dio said, his gaze like shards of ice. "The man is a commoner. The blood was purposely infused into him. We are all aware of the dangers of such a practice—blood carries mana, and forcing it upon a commoner with low innate reserves is… catastrophic. We must discover the source of this blood. The criminal himself is of no use; he has lost his mind to a ravenous bloodlust, likely a direct effect of the illegal infusion."
"This is a grave matter indeed," the King conceded, his brow furrowed.
"If I may speak." A dominating aura preceded the voice of Marquess Vinesthorne as he rose from the crowd.
"You may proceed, Marquess."
The Queen's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
"This criminal will be sentenced to death, will he not?"
"He has taken too many innocent lives. The sentence is death."
"However, as Head of the Upper Court, I wish to propose taking him into our custody until we ascertain the source of the tainted blood."
"That leech," Prince Dio muttered under his breath.
"Why would the Upper Court require custody of this particular criminal?" The Queen's voice was deceptively smooth.
"The Royal Knights are already overwhelmed with current irregularities. As His Highness stated, the man is unresponsive. My office may be of assistance. My second son leads a division in Omnia, and my daughter is an intermediate mage in Sanctum. We have the resources."
"We support Marquess Vinesthorne's proposal," a noble from the Upper Court column declared.
"I concur."
"As do we."
A chorus of agreement rose from multiple seats in the Mid and Low Courts.
The Queen's knuckles tightened, blanching white against the arm of her throne.
The three Pillars seated below the dais remained motionless, their faces carved from stone, their expressions cold and grim.
The King sighed, the weight of political pressure evident. "We shall render a decision following the trial."
The Marquess's face took on a viperous cast, but he bowed. "As Your Majesty commands."
"This session is adjourned. We will reconvene in three days." The King stood. "Dismissed."
As the room bowed, the Crown Prince, Amir, murmured to his brother, "Leeches."
The royal family withdrew—the King first, followed by the Princes and the Queen, whose exit was a study in controlled fury.
The three Pillars rose. Kepler and Cortez fell into step behind their respective heads.
"Oh, Prime Minister of External Affairs… or should I address you as Duke Worthon?" Marquess Vinesthorne's voice slithered out as they passed.
"Marquess." Duke William Worthon's acknowledgment was a glacier.
"And Duke Nocturne. Commander De Lune." The Marquess offered a shallow bow.
Duke Nocturne gave a curt nod. Duke Trevon De Lune looked at the man with unconcealed disgust. "I've often wondered, Marquess… is your spirit animal, by any chance, a pig?"
The Marquess scoffed, a sound like dry leaves. "Your Graces are the kingdom's most influential men. Do not think me so crude. Especially you, Duke Worthon. After all, your power and influence are said to rival the Royal Family's itself."
He bowed again, deeper this time. "If you will excuse me." He swept away, leaving silence in his wake.
"That son of a bitch," Duke De Lune spat.
"Trevon, language," Duke Nocturne chided, though his own eyes were hard.
"What would you have me say, Severon, after that pig tried to snout his way into a vial of tainted blood?"
"Enough, both of you," Duke Worthon's voice was quiet but absolute. "Their Majesties await us."
"Then we shall take our leave, Father, Your Graces," Captain Kepler said with a bow.
"Very well. Keep an eye on your little brother," Duke De Lune grunted.
"I shall depart as well. Uncle Severon, Your Graces." Lieutenant Nocturne bowed, and with Cortez following suit, the younger men exited.
"Let us go," Duke William said, already moving toward the private door behind the dais.
—-❈—-
In the Queen's private solar, the three Pillars, the King, and the two Princes stared at Her Majesty in confusion.
"Explain yourself, my wife," the King said.
"I said we should allow Marquess Vinesthorne to take custody of the criminal," the Queen repeated, sipping her tea with serene calm.
"But, Mother!" Crown Prince Amir's control snapped. "You know why that swine wants him! He'll experiment on the wretch, and who knows what horrors he'll create? He could build an army with that kind of research!"
"I agree with brother. The risk is too great," Prince Dio added, his voice tight.
"Excuse me for saying this, Your Majesty," Duke Trevon De Lune barked, "but what the hell is wrong with you, Euphelia?!"
"My husband, my sons… and my loose-tongued brother," the Queen said, setting her cup down with a soft click. "I said 'allow.' That does not mean he shall have him."
Her expression shifted, a familiar, chilling grimness settling over her features.
"She's making that face again," Duke Nocturne murmured.
"It's giving me the creeps," Duke De Lune agreed.
"She is my wife," the King said, with the weary pride of a man who has long since accepted the formidable nature of his partner.
"Fear not," the Queen said, a slow, calculating smile gracing her lips. "I know someone who can take care of this."
–To be continued…–