CHAPTER 5 #2
“That’s true, my lord,” Esmond said, “but there have been sightings just beyond the forest barriers. The villagers are worried it’s only a matter of time before they strike again.”
Reagan’s face betrayed nothing as he considered the seamster’s words.
“We’ll alert the patrols near Eldritch and reinforce the wards surrounding the town. Liege Wicklow will see to it.” He glanced toward his sister, who stood on the other side of the dais.
“Thank you, my lord,” Esmond responded, bowing deeply and leaving to the side of the chamber.
“Step forward and state your name and petition,” Cerridwen commanded.
A black-haired man dressed in leather trousers and a dark cloak approached the dais, offering a slight bow.
“My lord, I am Zephyr from the Highlands. My plea concerns the harvest in the region and your proposed solutions. I sent a formal plea last month,” he continued, drawing a folded parchment from his cloak, “but since I received no response, I brought it here in person. This document details the extent of my losses, along with those of others in the Highlands, due to the blight.”
Cerridwen rose from her seat, gracefully descending the steps of the dais to retrieve the parchment from his outstretched hand.
“I recall your plea, Mr Zephyr,” she said firmly. “We responded by sending provisions to support the Highlands. There should be no shortages.”
“The provisions are not the issue,” Zephyr replied, his tone a little edged. “The families who once supplied you with those goods can no longer earn a livelihood. The soil is completely infertile now, so we cannot grow crops to sustain ourselves.”
He turned his gaze from Cerridwen to Reagan. “My lord, how do you plan to address that?”
The room fell into a tense silence. Even the soft drip of water somewhere in the distance seemed amplified after the murmurs faded.
Reagan leaned back in his chair, his expression steely.
“As you know, the infusions we’ve been using are no longer faring the same.
We have arcanists studying other solutions, testing new reagents.
We’ll keep searching for other treatments so those families can have successful harvests again.
I have personally ensured that they receive every incentive to continue their research.
For now, the Highlands will have to rely on the provisions we’ve sent. ”
The citizen scoffed. Loudly. Though this was my first session, the tone of that man was far more brazen than the respectful petitions I had observed before.
Reagan leaned forward in his seat, his voice hardening into a warning edge. “I highly suggest you remember where you are. Is there something you’d like to add to that noise?”
“My lord, beyond receiving the same answers I expected, I feel obligated to remind you that your so-called solutions aren’t enough anymore. These actions aren’t enough.” Zephyr took a bold step forward, eyes flashing with defiance.
Immediately, the battle mages tightened their circle around him. Zephyr only spared them a quick, dismissive glance before fixing his glare back on the Lord of Mountheim. “You, my lord, are no longer enough.”
The soft patter of rain now struck the roof. All eyes were on Reagan, waiting to see how he would respond, though the ruler didn’t react, didn’t even flinch.
When he finally grinned, it was a cold, cruel smile that did not reach his eyes.
“As much as I appreciate the criticism,” Reagan said, his voice calm but no less menacing, “you won’t have the floor if I decide your insolence here is worthy of punishment. Do I make myself clear?”
A cold dread tightened in my chest. The tension in his voice brought back memories of a confrontation the day before, still too vivid in my mind.
“Yes, my lord,” Zephyr said, his leg starting to bounce mildly in front of the dais. “But are we supposed to accept that? Live off the estate’s charity, giving up our autonomy? Aren’t you supposed to amend the rotten land you rule?”
“Mr Zephyr, I remind you that you are addressing the Lord of . . .” Cerridwen’s reprimand was cut off.
“No! No!” he yelled, anger growing with each word. “You can’t dismiss us.”
He lunged then, grabbing Cerridwen and clamping an arm around her throat.
Startled gasps rippled through the chamber.
Reagan had risen from his chair, eyes blazing, followed by Barracus, who raised his hand as though to stop the battle mages. Both of them stared at the second-in-command being held in a chokehold.
“I will make my demands now, and you will listen.”
Reagan took a step forward. “Release her now. Then you and I will have the conversation you’re looking for.”
“No,” Zephyr answered, tightening his hold on Cerridwen. “I will speak here, in front of your entire audience.”
Near the entrance, a few mages slipped out quietly. Finnegan stepped in front of me, while Gwinifer signalled for the others to step back.
“There’s no need for this, Zephyr,” Cerridwen said, stumbling against his grip. “You won’t gain anything from it.”
“You see, we are desperate, my lord,” he seethed, unstable fury flashing in his eyes. “You don’t help us. The very people living on your estate. The ones you’ve endangered.”
My shoulders had gone stiff.
Reagan’s expression darkened as he descended another step. “Yes, I’m sworn to protect the estate from every threat it faces.”
A flash of lightning burst outside, flooding the chamber in stark white light, followed by a crack of thunder.
“Reagan,” Cerridwen’s calm voice cut through the tension as she raised her hands, as if she was asking him to wait, instead of the crazed mage restraining her.
But Reagan’s gaze remained fixed.
From my vantage point, I watched as the man gripping Cerridwen stilled, his body going unnaturally rigid. The anger in his eyes changed, replaced by wide-eyed shock that left his mouth slack.
Cerridwen pulled free from his arm without a struggle. Zephyr didn’t fight back. He stood there, as if some unseen force had paralysed him.
“My lord,” he said, his voice quivering. “This is a plea for the estate. I’m your citizen.”
I watched as Zephyr’s expression twisted, a grimace barely suppressed.
His arm, still up in the air, flushed crimson under the weight of the lord’s unrelenting stare.
Whatever Reagan was doing to him, it wasn’t just holding him in place.
It was punishment. His arm deepened to the raw, angry hue of scorched flesh, blisters forming like fragile bubbles ready to burst.
Reagan’s voice echoed, cold and furious. “I don’t tolerate threats, no matter where they come from.”
Zephyr’s arm drew a ragged gasp from him, a sound more instinctive than controlled. His curses filled the chamber, his voice cracking with sobs of agony.
Every instinct told me to close my eyes, but I kept watching, my stomach churning at the sickening sight.
Everyone watched.
Zephyr’s body sagged, his arms falling limp at his sides as his knees struck the stone floor with a dull, echoing thud.
Reagan’s voice rang out. “Take him.”
Battle mages rushed forward and gathered the fallen man, who let them carry him out of the room without a fight, keeping his eyes on the floor.
Finnegan broke away from my side, heading in Cerridwen’s direction. They exchanged a few quiet words before she turned and followed him out of the chamber.
Reagan’s gaze followed them until they disappeared through the arched doorway. The audience was only able to see the side of his face, but I could see it fully. The blank, steely expression gave no hint of whether he regretted punishing the mage or not killing him.
With no more than a flicker of acknowledgement, Reagan took his seat, casting a bored glance at his third-in-command.
Barracus said, “Step forward and state your name and petition.”