In the Nest of the Fallen Serpent - Chapter 37
Chapter 37
Anyone else would have been executed on the spot. Yet, the slave was not only spared but also carried back to her room. An order of silence was even issued, ensuring the incident remained concealed.
‘Could it be because His Grace’s headaches respond to divine power?’ Moritz nodded, satisfied with his plausible theory. ‘It makes sense to keep her alive then. His headaches have been particularly severe lately.’
While most remained oblivious to the Grand Duke’s suffering, Moritz was keenly aware. He’d witnessed the suppressed fury in his lord’s bloodshot eyes after hours of enduring the pain, a sight that made his knees tremble. A shiver ran down his spine.
Moritz suddenly felt a similar aura emanating from the Grand Duke, sending a chill through him.
“Aide.”
“Yes, Your Highness!” The unusually sharp tone of his reply was not merely his imagination. “It’s been a while since we’ve carried out an execution of a Class A prisoner, hasn’t it?”
“Indeed, Your Highness…” Preparations for war had delayed many matters. Or rather, priorities had shifted. The icy sensation crawling down Moritz’s back told him his lord’s question was not a casual inquiry.
“See to it now.” Before Moritz could respond, the Grand Duke turned.
They soon arrived at the entrance to the dungeon, located in the most remote part of the castle. The condemned were held in the darkest, filthiest depths of the prison. After walking some distance down the subterranean corridor, the Grand Duke spoke without turning his head.
“You may stay here.” The heavy iron door creaked open and then slammed shut. Immediately after, the chilling screams of the condemned echoed faintly from within. The sound was so gruesome it made Moritz’s hair stand on end.
A wave of revulsion and fear washed over him, causing him to instinctively step back. He only stopped when he was far enough away that the screams faded.
‘What…is happening in there?’
He heard the sound of his own dry swallow. Of course, these were prisoners condemned for heinous crimes, awaiting execution without possibility of reprieve. Yet, he couldn’t shake the overwhelming dread.
The imagined scene of his lord’s cruelty only amplified his terror. Sweat beaded between Moritz’s clenched fists. The Grand Duke only displayed such ruthlessness when his mood was exceptionally foul.
‘What happened today?’
He retraced the day’s events. A chilling realization struck him like lightning. ‘His Highness…’
Until they reached the dungeon, Moritz had believed the Grand Duke had spared the slave. It was a grave mistake. The condemned, now dying in her place, were proof. Moritz forced his stiff neck to look up at the closed iron door. The chipped paint and rusted metal made it resemble the gates of hell. Contrary to his foolish assumption…
“….”
The master had not yet forgiven his slave.
***
Benedict was profoundly displeased. It had begun the moment his slave dared to intervene. No, it started the moment she appeared before everyone.
‘Oh, no…!’
Had he given her permission to leave the mansion? He hadn’t explicitly forbidden it either. Judging by her presence with Greta, she must have been exploring the castle grounds. There was nothing wrong with that.
If only she hadn’t interfered with the vile thief, hadn’t used her divine power on that wretch. Benedict easily justified his anger. The divine power was not the slave’s. She belonged to him, therefore it was his.
She had dared to use it without his permission. How could he not be displeased? He had the thief’s wrists severed. The filthy flesh that his slave’s small, pale hands had touched, held, grasped. He should have felt better, but instead, he felt defiled, as if covered in filth.
