"Baron Mordret Valorborn!! Get out, you bastard!!" A man's furious roar echoed.
"Tell me! Where have you hidden my beloved?!" The man's rage resembled that of a wild beast—unhinged, unrestrained, and consuming. His roar was followed by a high-pitched shriek.
"Hieek! Wait! Wait! Wait! Brother! Hold on, hold on, hold on!! We're not here to fight!" The source of the shriek spoke hastily, her voice bearing the tones of a young woman who had just come of age. Bam
"No! I demand answers from him! Baron Mordret!!! I'll end you if you've done anything to—"
A gust of wind swept into the mansion as Jon, Maria's son, forcibly kicked open the doors.
However, his appeal was suddenly curtailed as a chilling and icy dagger, gliding through the darkness with unmatched accuracy and breathtaking swiftness visible to mortal eyes, lightly brushed against Jon's right cheek like a dart.
Tak! Shaaa~ Shaaa~
The spurt of blood, witnessed by all, silenced the frenzied crowd, shrouding the room in a deathly hush.
"Firstly, this is my Lord's sacred abode, not your meat market for you to bellow so brashly. Keep your damned voice down," Eliza locked eyes with everyone, none daring to return her gaze. "Secondly, let that foul mouth run loose, and the other dagger will sever your throat. Believe me when I say my Lord has just saved your life." Eliza's words silenced them all, their attention now on Mordret, who had moved to stand beside Eliza.
The woman radiated fury beyond measure.
'How dare he utter my Lord's name so loudly?! Threaten his life?! Face me first, you coward!' While Eliza refrained from interfering in village matters, Jon had truly crossed a line today. Her body trembled with anger, her blood boiling at an alarming rate.
The sole thing that reined her in was Mordret, who had intervened at precisely the right moment, preventing the second dagger in her grasp from being put to use. Otherwise...
‘Insane! This woman is INSANE!!!’ Zephyr panicked, even as his passive skill <Calm> tried to work its magic. If it weren't for Mordret's lightning-quick reflexes, he would never have discerned the two swift motions executed by Eliza during that fraction of a second.
Had her second hand been as swift as the first, Jon might have bid a bitter farewell to his life.
Jon's fury deflated swiftly, unable to withstand the intensity of Eliza's chilling blue gaze.
"Eliza." Mordret's call and the slight nudge of her wrist urged her to calm herself.
'I absolutely need to know about her aspect, ability, and flaw. And the sooner, the better!' Zephyr mentally noted. His second task after dealing with Eliza was to manage the crowd. 'I can't have a hundred bodies littering this mansion.' Zephyr wiped an imaginary bead of sweat as his attention shifted to Eliza, who continued to tremble with rage.
...
Amidst the throng, one figure stood out after Jon—a girl who spoke up, shattering the silence. "I wish Lord Mordret good health, if I may—"
However, Mordret simply ignored her presence and glared at all the villagers, including the one who spoke: Rebecca Crestfall, Maria's daughter.
Rebecca possessed lustrous raven hair cascading down to her waist, paired with a pink gown that complemented her pale skin and delicate form. Her rosy lips and pointed nose rendered her strikingly beautiful. The alluring curves she inherited from her mother made her exceptionally attractive for her age.
Although the girl appeared confident, her persona seemed borrowed, akin to those of affluent youngsters. 'Hollow. Her persona feels parasitic,' Mordret judged Rebecca based on her demeanor and body language.
Beneath the thick veil of righteousness, Rebecca enacted a facade of concern. However, upon gazing into her eyes, Mordret failed to sense any genuine worry emanating from her.
Her performance was overly conspicuous to him. Despite her brother's injury, her eyes shifted restlessly between Mordret and Eliza, who stood in the center of the hall, as if seeking retribution from them.
Mordret, his short gray-white hair dancing in the air, possessed an allure that could quicken the heartbeat of any woman. Yet, Rebecca's gaze did not linger on his irresistible appearance or his elegant attire. Instead, her focus wavered between the opulent nightwear he donned and the lavish hall, her greedy desire for wealth and power thinly veiled.
Mordret exuded an aura of dignity that set him apart, a presence only he as a Baron could project. Rebecca fixated on him—the Baron—his status, authority, and persona that held sway everywhere.
Beneath her gaze lay an even deeper aspiration: to witness his dominion crumble or engulfed in the flames of a vindictive yet cunning individual.
'Why am I suddenly appraising people this way?' Zephyr questioned himself, but he lacked the time for introspection.
An air of uncertainty enveloped Mordret as his eyes locked onto Rebecca.
...
'Why is he staring at me?' Rebecca instinctively retreated a step. 'Is he challenging me? What are you up to, my Lord?' A chuckle of amusement resonated within Rebecca as she licked her plush lips, her audacity amplifying.
"My Lord, I extend my apologies on my brother's behalf!" Her words reverberated, surprising the villagers. Her tone was dramatic, devoid of genuine remorse.
"However, I must insist—" Rebecca's speech was curtailed. "Who are you? I never granted you permission to speak in his stead." Mordret dismissed her, his attention shifting to Jon.
"Jon, son of Chieftess Maria, why have you entered my abode without prior notice? Your little spectacle earlier did capture attention," Mordret's gaze flickered toward the crowd that had retreated like startled lambs.
His predatory stare surpassed even Eliza's, and only individuals of equal or higher status could endure it.
Rebecca clenched her teeth as she deciphered Mordret's discerning gaze. 'Son of Chieftess?! Does he not recognize my brother's standing, the village's mightiest warrior? What audacity is this? Is he looking down on us, Lord Mordret?' Frustration clenched her fists, tightened her lips, and stirred her determination to speak out. Yet Jon's intervention preempted her.
"Lord Mordret..." Eliza's glare prompted Jon to hastily amend his address. "Lord, my betrothed, Karen, has vanished." His resolve was steadfast. "Based on villagers' accounts, she was last seen with your attendant." He continued, "Additionally, according to my knowledge, Karen visited your residence before disappearing. Thus, that is why—" Jon's words began to wane, overtaken by a creeping unease.
The more he spoke, the more his words stuttered. Searching for support among the crowd, Jon found only silence. Even those who had fanned his fury with rumors about the Lord's wrongdoings had vanished. Some lingered outside the mansion's gates, while those who remained, emboldened by Jon's defiance, clustered around Rebecca.
Even Rebecca found it challenging to comprehend how swiftly the unity she had counted on disintegrated, leaves falling from a tree in a brisk breeze. She struggled to fathom how the once-supportive villagers had lost interest or the will to oppose Mordret.
'Why are you retreating, you cowards?!' She scanned the area frantically, her disbelief mirroring her brother's plight.
The very support that had sustained their cause had unraveled before her eyes.
"Are you finished?" Mordret's chilling voice pierced the air. Jon parroted his statements redundantly. "Y-yes." His well of words exhausted, Jon nodded.
"So, you insinuate that Karen, your intended, has gone missing, and your first recourse is to hold my Lord responsible? Instead of scouring the village for her, your immediate action is to implicate my Lord? Instead of reporting this to the camp or informing the Chieftess, you dare threaten my Lord? Quite a rational approach, I must say." Eliza's words dripped with contempt.
Jon felt shame cast its shadow upon him. After all, the logical course of action following Karen's disappearance was to alert the camp and Chieftess, rather than make baseless accusations.
"Is Karen a child to vanish unnoticed from a village of scarcely 2000 people? Or does she require constant surveillance? Is she as fragile as a fledgling pigeon?" Each of Eliza's questions drove an invisible dagger into Jon's heart. The language she chose was unapologetically forthright, rendering him and his supporters defenseless.
The shame they felt was palpable, heads bowed in humility. 'Not good!' Rebecca clenched her teeth. The situation had unexpectedly shifted in Mordret's favor.
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