"Then tell him now," Lloyd urged gently, straightening up and gesturing towards his father. "Tell the Arch Duke what really happened near Weaver's Alley two days ago. Tell him what those men said to you. Tell him how they blocked your path. Tell him how you felt."
Eliza took a deep, shuddering breath, looked at her friend Maria, who nodded encouragement, and then turned to face the Arch Duke. Her voice, though trembling, rang with newfound conviction.
"Your Grace!" she began, the words tumbling out in a rush. "It… it wasn't like they said! Those men… they weren't helping us! They cornered us! They were saying… awful things! Making rude jokes! We tried to get past, but they wouldn't let us! We were scared!"
Maria chimed in, emboldened by her friend. "They called us names, Your Grace! And… and one of them tried to grab Eliza's arm! We were terrified! Then… then Lord Ferrum came! He didn't shout threats! He just… he told them off! He hit the leader, yes, but only after he wouldn't stop! And then he lectured them! Like… like a schoolmaster!"
"And yesterday," Eliza continued breathlessly, "a man came to our homes! A scary man with cold eyes! He… he offered Papa money! Lots of money! Said we just had to say the boys were nice, that Lord Ferrum was mean! He said… he said bad things would happen if we didn't!" Tears flowed freely again, but these were tears of relief, of truth finally spoken.
The study was utterly silent, save for the girls' ragged breathing. The meticulously constructed narrative Rubel had built lay in ruins, shattered by the simple, heartfelt testimony of the children he had tried to manipulate, corroborated by the exposed vulnerabilities of his coerced witnesses.
Lloyd turned slowly, deliberately, to face his uncle. The calm amusement was gone, replaced by a cold, scathing contempt. "Well, Uncle Rubel?" his voice dripped with sarcasm. "A 'misunderstanding', you called it? 'Tragic overreaction'?" He gestured towards the now-silent bandaged figures. "Or perhaps just another move in your long, pathetic game? Another attempt to discredit the main line, to sow discord, to position yourself closer to the seat you so desperately covet?"
He took a step towards Rubel, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. "You think my father is blind? You think I am blind to your ambition? To the whispers? To the convenient 'accidents' that seem to follow those who oppose you?" He leaned in slightly, invoking memories only he possessed from a future that never was, yet felt chillingly real. "Like your persistent attempts, even before my parents' death in my… previous understanding… to engineer an engagement between your arrogant whelp of a son," he shot a venomous look at Rayan, who paled significantly, "and Rosa Siddik?"
Across the room, Rosa's head snapped up. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, the mask of indifference finally cracking, replaced by stunned disbelief. How…? How could he possibly know that? The engagement discussions had been brief, secret, vehemently rejected by her father years ago, long before her marriage to Lloyd was even contemplated. It was a hidden piece of family history, buried deep. Lloyd's knowledge was impossible.
"You," Lloyd spat at Rubel, ignoring Rosa's shock, focusing his ire entirely on his uncle, "have been maneuvering against the main branch for years. Undermining my father subtly, waiting for weakness, plotting. This stunt? Trying to frame me, using coerced witnesses and injured pawns? Pathetic. Desperate. And utterly transparent."
Before Rubel could formulate a defense, before the sputtering rage could erupt into denial, Arch Duke Roy Ferrum moved.
He rose slowly from behind his desk, his full height seeming to fill the room, radiating an aura of power far more potent than any Spirit Pressure. His face was thunderous, colder and harder than Lloyd had ever seen it. His eyes, fixed on his brother Rubel, blazed with a fury that promised retribution.
"Rubel Ferrum," Roy's voice was deceptively quiet, yet it cracked through the tension like a whip, sharp and absolute. Every person in the room flinched. "You dare?"
He took a step around the desk, his gaze unwavering. "You dare orchestrate this… farce? In my own study? You dare coerce witnesses? You dare attempt to manipulate my own son, the heir to this Duchy?" His voice rose steadily, each word dripping with contempt. "You dare plot and scheme against the Head Family, against me?"
Rubel visibly shrank under the onslaught, his earlier arrogance completely evaporated, replaced by stark fear. "Brother, I… it was a misunderstanding! I was misinformed! These witnesses…"
"Silence!" Roy roared, the sound echoing off the stone walls, making the very air tremble. "I have tolerated your ambition, your maneuvering, your subtle undermining for far too long! Considered it… political necessity. Kinship." He practically spat the word. "No more."