Shaking arms
In the dimly lit room, a fresh surge of hushed murmurs and startled gasps reverberated, their resonance intertwining with the already palpable tension that hung in the air. The audience's collective distress seemed to offer a peculiar release, further diffusing the weight that burdened the very walls of the chamber. Amidst this dramatic backdrop, a fusion of astonishment and bewilderment painted each and every face, all eyes converging upon a figure who had masterfully wrested the spotlight from the aftermath of the preceding fight.
In Felix's unyielding grip, Lord Kaylen's voice trembled as he urgently pleaded with the Duke, his words laden with fear and desperation,
"Your Grace, I beg you, allow me to explain!"
But Damien showed no interest in hearing explanations. With resolute decisiveness, he grabbed Lord Kaylen by his pristine white shirt collar, wrenching him away from Felix's hold. In the dimly lit chamber, their eyes locked in a tense confrontation. Damien's face twisted with an unsettling intensity that struck fear into Lord Kaylen, whose terror was evident on his pale face.
With a piercing stare that seemed to stretch into eternity, Damien shoved Lord Kaylen to the ground, positioning him near the lifeless child's body. He loomed over the man, gripping his thinning hair tightly and pulling his face close to the cold, pale face of the dead child. His voice dripped with furious intensity as he spoke above them,
"Look closely at this face. It bears the mark of a life you have destroyed. The countless other shattered lives hidden in darkness are too horrifying to imagine."
In a swift and decisive move, Damien pushed Lord Kaylen onto the stage, then pivoted to snatch the longsword from Felix's hand. The blade's razor-sharp tip gleamed as Damien held it against the fat man's throat. A new wave of fury flashed in Damien's eyes as he leaned in, his voice a hiss through clenched teeth,
"You, a despicable lowlife, are unworthy of the touch of this clean blade. When Lord Kemmerson begged for his life, I showed mercy. But for scum like you, death would be a merciful escape."
With a swift and assessing glance around the stage, Damien took in the tense atmosphere. His gaze settled back on Lord Kaylen, who remained cowering at his feet. With practiced precision, Damien incapacitated him with a firm blow to the head using the sword's hilt. Standing upright, he addressed the assembled crowd with unwavering authority,
"Remain where you are. You are all under arrest for participating in illegal gladiator contests. Any resistance will be met with immediate consequences, by my hand."
The crowd, previously restless, fell silent at his decree. Despite his authority as the Grand Duke and Chief Prosecutor, Damien lacked the inherent right to dispense life and death summarily. Yet, the Emperor's backing lent weight to his words.
"Your Grace!"
Felix attempted to step forward, perhaps to calm Damien, but the intensity in Damien's gaze caused him to retreat. Damien then turned his attention to Laith, who stood steadfast. He commanded,
"Felix, summon the Fourth Division of the Shadow Knights immediately. Both of you will face justice."
"Yes, Your Grace."
With a nod of understanding, Felix hurried off the stage toward the exit. Damien signaled Laith to approach, enlisting her help in managing the situation. As Laith complied, she subtly moved aside, revealing a small, emaciated child hidden behind her, clutching her cloak with blood-stained hands.
Uncertain how to proceed with the child, Laith hesitated. Sensing the need, Rosalie stepped forward with assurance,
"Don't worry, I'll take care of him."
Lady Ashter spoke with reassuring kindness, her face glowing with a radiant smile that enhanced her already captivating appearance. However, the child remained wary, hiding behind Laith's cloak, avoiding the unfamiliar attention.
"Don't be afraid. We won't harm you. We're here to help."
Her soothing words seemed to ease the boy's apprehension, sparking a glimmer of hope in him. Slowly, he peeked out from behind the cloak, revealing a shocking sight that widened Lady Ashter's eyes in astonishment.
His young face, tender yet marred by a long and ugly scar, ran from his left temple to his right chin.
'How could this be...'
A wave of distressing emotions surged through Rosalie, causing her to tremble as if physically ill. Amidst this turmoil, she fought the urge to cry or disappear. Despite her own anguish, she knew she needed to remain composed for the child's sake.
With a slightly trembling but kind smile gracing her lips, she extended her hand once more. Her gaze remained fixed on the approaching boy, his emerald eyes shimmering with trepidation, his small frame quivering. Exhibiting her empathy, Rosalie slowly removed her coat and draped it tenderly around the child, cradling his tiny hand within her own, positioning herself protectively beside him.
Meanwhile, Damien, who had been silently watching, let out a sigh of discontent and continued,
"Lady Rosalie, once the Shadow Knights arrive, return to the mansion with Sir Logan and..."
He glanced at the child standing next to his fiancée and added,
"Take the child with you. We will take care of him later."
Lady Ashter nodded firmly, her eyes returning to the boy who kept his wide green eyes fixed on her. Throughout this exchange, Laith had been observing Rosalie's actions discreetly, her thoughts filled with unfamiliar emotions. When Damien called her name sharply, she swiftly departed, leaving the child in Rosalie's compassionate care.
"Are you capable of walking?"
The lady posed a seemingly ordinary query to the boy, only to realize that he stood barefoot. In response, she executed a delicate maneuver, lifting the child into her embrace. Gently, she pressed his frail form against her chest, and the boy instinctively wrapped his shaking arms around her neck, seeking refuge by resting his head upon the girl's shoulder.
'God... I once thought Rosalie was skinny, but this boy is nearly weightless.'
Upon reaching the dimly lit steps that led them to this concealed chamber, Lady Ashter encountered Sir Logan, whose eyes widened in astonishment at her somewhat disheveled state, nearly springing forth to offer aid.
"My Lady! Are you unharmed? Is there someone inside your coat? Please, allow me to assist!"
As these words escaped his lips, the boy's arms tightened around Rosalie, his slight frame trembling like a leaf caught in an unforgiving gust. Perceiving the child's palpable distress, Lady Ashter gently shook her head, responding with a composed demeanor,
"No, there is no need, Sir Logan. Let us depart. Let us return home.".
YOU ARE READING
villainess'ss Secret Service
Roman d'amourThis novel can be categorized as "he falls first and he falls harder" . . "Did you really think that after all that you've done to me, I would simply let you go, Rosalie? You might as well go to the Devil himself because otherwise, I will definitely...
