A Barbaric Proposal Chapter 73

※Exile (2)※

[Noble] "Regardless of the evidence, we cannot hang the Chairman of the Grand Council."

The dissenting noble looked toward the other Elders, searching for a crumb of solidarity. Rosadel and Ellaroyden, however, refused to meet his eyes. Instead, they stole nervous glances at Black.

Lord Burrey was in no condition to help; he was too busy cradling his mangled wrist, his face twisted in a mask of agony.

[Arland] "In anticipation of a lack of unanimity, Her Highness Princess Liene has proposed an alternative: a royal act of clemency. In exchange for escaping the gallows, the two perpetrators will be permanently exiled from these lands. Do you agree to these terms of mercy?"

The meaning behind the word "mercy" was razor-sharp. Their heads would remain on their shoulders, but the Crown would no longer tolerate their existence within Nauk’s borders.

The Elders’ expressions grew grim.

In years past, such a demand would have been laughable. But the landscape had shifted. The Crown now possessed Tiwakan—a military force unlike anything any royal house on the continent had ever commanded.

Arland’s calm, steady voice echoed through the hall.

[Arland] "If the Grand Council rejects this clemency, the Crown cannot grant it. Since you also oppose the hanging, the two prisoners will remain in the dungeons for the rest of their lives."

[Lyndon] "That’s absurd!"

His voice rose in a frantic shriek.

[Lyndon] "You dare play such games with me? With the House of Kleinfelter?"

Black didn't even look at him. He signaled over his shoulder. A Tiwakan warrior standing by the entrance stepped forward instantly.

[Black] "Ensure the prisoner remains silent."

[Tiwakan] "By your command, My Lord."

CRUNCH.

The mercenary seized Lyndon by the back of the head and slammed his face into the floor.

THUD.

The impact was brutal. Lyndon’s forehead split against the cold stone, and blood spattered across the floor.

[Lyndon] "You... you animals... how dare—"

[Black] "I said silence."

CRUNCH.

The Tiwakan slammed him down again.

It was a clear, bloody promise: every time he opened his mouth, another piece of his skull would pay the price.

[Arland] "I ask again. Do you reject the clemency? If so, I shall record that, by the will of the Grand Council, the traitors are to be imprisoned for eternity."

[Lyndon] "Wait... wait!"

Lyndon scrambled to speak before the guard could strike again. The mercenary gripped his hair, tilting his head back, but Black offered a tiny nod to stay the blow.

[Lyndon] "I... I accept... the mercy."

Lyndon spat the words through gritted teeth.

Exile was a bitter pill—the thought of leaving behind every scrap of power he had spent a lifetime accumulating was like a fire in his gut. But he couldn't rot in that cellar forever. If he were cast out, he could at least find sanctuary elsewhere.

Kleinferter’s eldest son was a grandson of the Prince of Sharka through his mother's side. If they could reach Sharka, there would be a path back to power.

[Rosadel] "It is settled, then."

Rosadel spoke up quickly. When Lyndon glared at him, Rosadel didn't flinch. Instead, he pointedly lifted his broken left wrist—a silent, painful reminder that he had already paid his dues.

[Arland] "And the other Houses?"

One by one, the four remaining Elders offered a reluctant nod.

[Arland] "Let the record show the vote for clemency is unanimous. Those exiled may carry nothing of Nauk with them. This includes their names, their titles, and their wealth. Her Highness has dictated that, should the exiles wish to remain clothed, they will be granted the special exception of wearing penitential robes."

[Lyndon] "Wait! Does that mean—"

It was too late. The law, which had been a hollow tool in Lyndon’s hands for years, was now being turned against him with clinical precision.

[Arland] "The entirety of the Kleinfelter estate is hereby forfeit to the Crown."

[Lyndon] "This is highway robbery!"

THUD.

At Black’s silent command, Lyndon’s face met the floor for a third time. His vision swam; his brain felt like it had been turned to mush. He fought the overwhelming urge to pass out.

[Lyndon] "No... no..."

His voice was a pathetic whimper. The other nobles watched in silence as the light of defiance faded from his eyes.

At that moment, everyone in the room realized that the name "Kleinfelter" no longer carried an ounce of weight. Lyndon was now just a man whose head would be cracked open if he spoke out of turn.

[Arland] "The clemency takes effect immediately. This is Her Highness’ grace."

He began to conclude the proceedings.

[Arland] "As an exile, Lyndon Kleinfelter has lost his status. Therefore, the position of Chairman is vacant. The remaining five Houses must appoint a new Chairman by this time tomorrow—before the selection of the new Cardinal. If no Chairman is appointed by then, the power to select the Cardinal will be delegated to the Crown."

The five families were now trapped. Between now and tomorrow, the room would be a hornet's nest of suspicion, conflict, and backstabbing.

The era where the Treaty of Risebury held absolute power was over.

Black stood up, satisfied. He hadn't been the biggest fan of letting them keep their heads, but he respected Liene’s desire to avoid a direct, bloody clash with the Kleinfelter loyalists.

Once their wealth was seized, their private soldiers would be too busy worrying about their next meal to pose a threat.

[Black] "Take them to the temple. Dress them in the rags."

Lyndon summoned his last ounce of strength to shout.

[Lyndon] "What? Right now? At least give me time to see my family!"

[Black] "Not a chance."

[Lyndon] "No! You can’t do this! You can’t!"

[Black] "If you’d like to leave this land on your own two feet, I suggest you stop shouting. I’m not particularly fond of people raising their voices in my presence."

[Lyndon] "You... you..."

[Black] "Haven't you learned yet? My patience isn't a gift you want to test."

The cold, slow delivery of his words carried absolute truth.

Having learned the hard way that Black never bluffed, Lyndon finally collapsed into silence.

From this moment on, they would be nothing more than beggars in coarse, grey robes, cast out of Nauk with nothing to their names.

---

[Fermos] "My Lord sent me ahead to give you the news. I assumed you’d be anxious to hear it. Should I proceed?"

Fermos found Liene in her chambers.

The room was a whirlwind of activity; Madam Flambard was currently locked in a heated debate with a royal tailor over the hem of the wedding coat.

Liene was caught in the middle, trying to oversee the tailoring while simultaneously drafting documents for the upcoming investitures.

[Liene] "Sir Fermos! Yes, please. Let's step into the next room."

[Fermos] "Lead the way."

The "next room" was Black’s bedroom, connected via the shared bath.

[Fermos] "Why is it so... empty in here?"

He scanned the room. The bed curtains were gone, the linens stripped. It looked like a room that was being abandoned.

[Liene] "Oh, I’m having it refurnished. It’s customary to prepare the consort's chambers."

[Fermos] "I see. But is that strictly necessary? I assume the two of you will be sharing a chamber anyway."

She blinked, looking genuinely puzzled.

[Liene] "Why would we do that?"

[Fermos] "Pardon?"

He looked even more confused than she did.

[Fermos] "Don't you two already spend every night in the same room?"

[Liene] "That was a matter of circumstance and safety. Lord Tiwakan must have his own proper chambers."

[Fermos] "Ah... is that how it works here?"

[Liene] "Of course. It’s the standard."

[Fermos] "Right... I see."

He wasn't familiar with the stiff, separate-bedroom culture of the Nauk nobility, and Liene had never seen a marriage where a couple shared a single bed every night.

[Liene] "Never mind that. Tell me—how did the Assembly go?"

[Fermos] "Well, about that..."

He gave her a sanitized summary of the afternoon’s events. He conveniently left out the part where almost every Elder in the room had walked out with a shattered wrist. Instead, he focused on the lack of casualties.

[Fermos] "It was quite peaceful, all things considered."

[Liene] "Really? That’s a relief. I was worried the Kleinfelters would fight the exile order."

[Fermos] "Well, you’re about to be a very wealthy woman, Your Highness."

He quickly changed the subject before she could ask what "peaceful" meant in Tiwakan terms.

[Liene] "I doubt it will be that simple. I’m sure the Kleinfelters haven't just left their gold sitting in neat piles."

[Fermos] "We’ll squeeze out every coin we can. We’re recovering everything held in the names of Lyndon and Laffit... er, that 'bastard' son. Let's hope they kept a lot of liquid cash in the manor."

[Liene] "I hope so, too."

She offered a small smile, noticing how Fermos glossed over Laffit’s name with a cough. She realized again that Black had known the truth about her "lover" all along and had chosen to protect her dignity anyway.

That man... how many more times is he going to make my heart skip a beat? 

It’s getting difficult to breathe around him.

[Fermos] "My Lord went to the manor personally. The Kleinfelter treasury should be moved to the royal vaults by nightfall."

[Liene] "I... I’m actually a bit worried. Is it safe for him to go there?"

[Fermos] "Safe? The Council has already ruled. What's the problem?"

[Liene] "No, I mean... I'm worried for Lord Tiwakan. Surely the Kleinfelter loyalists won't just stand by. Shouldn't we send the Royal Guard to back him up?"

[Fermos] "Ah, so that’s it."

He grinned. It was clear the Princess was head-over-heels for his Lord. She was inventing things to worry about.

[Fermos] "He took eight of our ten-year veterans with him. Nothing is going to happen. My Lord usually hates a fuss, but he wanted to make sure you didn't have to worry, so he took a proper escort."

[Liene] "But eight is such a small number! The Kleinfelters have over five hundred men!"

[Fermos] "We’ve already scouted the manor. There’s barely a quarter of that number on-site. There’s only so much room in a city estate."

[Liene] "Even a quarter is over a hundred men!"

His smile widened. The Princess was surprisingly sweet when she was being protective. It was a refreshing change of pace.

[Fermos] "Your Highness, you still don't know the man you’re marrying. If a man survives ten years in Tiwakan, it takes a literal bolt of lightning to kill him."

[Liene] "What?"

[Fermos] "A hundred men aren't a threat; it’s a chore. Even if all five hundred showed up, he’d walk out with his hair perfectly in place. Besides, My Lord's greatest talent isn't the sword—it’s negotiation."

[Liene] "Negotiation?"

Fermos was right; she didn't know Black at all. She found herself asking for clarification yet again.

[Fermos] "He doesn't fight people he doesn't have to. His blade is... well, it’s invincible as far as I know. But because of that, he doesn't draw it lightly."

[Liene] "I see..."

She nodded, processing this new facet of the man she loved.

Then, her face turned serious again.

[Liene] "I still think we should send the Royal Guard."

[Fermos] "Your Highness, really, it’s fine."

[Liene] "No. I want them sent. We don't know what might happen, and I won't be able to rest until I know for sure. Please, do this for me."

[Fermos] "Hmm..."

It was a complete waste of resources. By the time the Nauk Guard set foot out of the barracks, the situation would be over.

But Liene looked so earnest—so damnably lovely—that he found he couldn't say no.

Damn. So this is what My Lord deals with every day.

No wonder he's so head over heels.

[Fermos] "They might pass each other on the road, you know."

[Liene] "A minor detail."

[Fermos] "Fine... yes. I’ll send a detachment."

[Liene] "Thank you, Sir Fermos."

She beamed at him, a look of pure, heartfelt gratitude.

This is dangerous.

My Lord has ears everywhere. 

He had to make sure he didn't look like he was enjoying her smile too much. Even thinking she was "pretty" felt like a death sentence if Black caught wind of it.

[Fermos] "I’ll see to it then, Your Highness..."

He offered a quick, somewhat cowed bow and turned to leave.

[Liene] "Oh, wait!"

She reached out and caught his arm. Fermos nearly jumped out of his skin.

[Fermos] "Whoa! Your Highness, please—no need to grab! Just speak! I can hear you just fine!"

[Liene] "Oh! I’m sorry if I startled you. If you don't like being touched, I’ll be more careful."

[Fermos] "I would deeply, deeply appreciate that. Please, never, ever grab me again. Now... what is it?"

[Liene] "What is Lord Tiwakan’s favorite color?"

[Fermos] "Uh... what?"

The question was so far out of left field that Fermos was left speechless.

[Liene] "For the bedroom. Since I’m refurnishing it, I want to use a color he actually likes."

[Fermos] "I... I honestly don't know. Does My Lord even have a favorite color?"

[Liene] "Are you saying you don't know, or that he doesn't have one?"

[Fermos] "I suspect he doesn't have one, which is why I don't know it."

[Liene] "I see."

She nodded thoughtfully.

[Liene] "I suppose I’ll just have to ask him when he returns."

Fermos watched her, wondering how someone could look so radiant while contemplating something as mundane as a favorite color.

It was a mystery he wasn't brave enough to solve.

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