He straightened to his full height, his gaze sweeping briefly over Lloyd with triumphant disdain before settling back on Roy. "This cannot stand, Your Grace. For the sake of justice, for the sake of order, for the sake of the Ferrum reputation, there must be accountability."
His voice hardened, the demand ringing clear. "I repeat my request. Lord Lloyd Ferrum must kneel before these men he has wronged, apologize sincerely for his actions, and offer compensation for their suffering. Five Gold Coins each. It is the least that can be done to redress this egregious offense!" He folded his arms, looking expectantly at Roy, confident that the sheer weight of the orchestrated testimony left the Arch Duke no other option. Checkmate.
The silence in the study stretched, thick and suffocating. The witnesses held their breath. The bandaged men fell silent, their groans momentarily forgotten. Rayan's smirk widened. Rubel stood tall, awaiting the inevitable judgment. Rosa remained perfectly still, an emerald statue observing the proceedings with inscrutable detachment. Ken Park hadn't moved a muscle, a pillar of stoic readiness beside Lloyd.
Arch Duke Roy Ferrum's gaze remained fixed on his son. He had listened without interruption, his face revealing nothing. Now, the moment of judgment had arrived. The assembled players waited for him to lower the boom, to enforce the seemingly inevitable conclusion Rubel had so carefully constructed.
Roy did not look at Rubel. He did not look at the witnesses or the victims. His intense, penetrating gaze remained locked on Lloyd.
"Lloyd," Roy stated, his voice cutting through the thick silence like a blade, flat, devoid of judgment, yet carrying the immense weight of his authority. "Viscount Rubel has presented his case and his demands. The witnesses have spoken." He paused, letting the finality sink in. "The twenty-four hours I granted you have elapsed."
He leaned forward fractionally, the movement drawing every eye. "You claimed you could prove your innocence. You claimed you could expose the truth." His voice dropped slightly, becoming impossibly quiet, yet resonating with absolute command. "The stage is yours. Present your proof."
----
The air in the Arch Duke's study hung thick and expectant, saturated with the poison of Rubel's accusations and the weight of the fabricated testimonies. The Viscount stood smugly, arms folded, awaiting the inevitable capitulation. Rayan smirked, savoring the anticipated humiliation of his cousin. The witnesses trembled, caught between fear of Rubel and the imposing presence of the Arch Duke. The bandaged figures offered occasional, strategically timed groans. Rosa remained an enigma, a silent observer clad in emerald green.
All eyes were on Lloyd, awaiting his defense, his excuses, his inevitable crumble under the orchestrated weight of 'evidence'.
Lloyd rose from his chair, not with defiance, not with anger, but with a calm, almost serene confidence that was deeply unsettling. He didn't immediately address his father or his uncle. Instead, he walked slowly, deliberately, towards the cluster of terrified witnesses, his footsteps echoing softly on the polished floor. Ken Park remained by the chair, a silent anchor.
He stopped directly in front of them, close enough that they could smell the faint scent of soap and starch from his tunic, close enough that they couldn't avoid his direct, penetrating gaze. He looked at each of them in turn, his eyes lingering for a moment, seeming to peel back the layers of their fear and deceit. They flinched under his scrutiny, shuffling, looking down, anywhere but at him.
"Milo," Lloyd began, his voice quiet but carrying easily in the tense silence. He addressed the thin, shifty-eyed man who had spoken first. "Milo Tanner. Runs a small stall selling slightly bruised fruit near the East Gate, correct? Always struggling to make ends meet. Especially since acquiring that rather unfortunate gambling debt at the 'Lucky Gryphon' tavern two months ago."
Milo jerked as if struck, his face draining of all remaining color. He stared at Lloyd, mouth agape. "H-how…?"
"A debt currently held," Lloyd continued smoothly, ignoring the stammered question, "by a moneylender known to have… close ties to certain interests affiliated with Viscount Rubel Ferrum. A debt for which the collection methods were becoming increasingly… persuasive. Until, perhaps, a generous offer was made? An offer to clear the slate entirely, maybe even add a few silver coins on top, in exchange for a small service? A simple recitation?"
Milo trembled violently, unable to speak, his eyes wide with terror.