Behind the Royal Mask

Defiance in the Streets

"It takes a truly pathetic man to prey on someone who can't defend themselves."

A quiet murmur of sounds pulled Beatrice from her sleep. For some time, the hazy dreams lingered in her mind before the voices coming from outside her bedroom finally registered.

She frowned and sat up, the cool air of morning wrapping around her. She could hear a man weeping.  Grabbing a shawl, she put on her shoes and walked outside. 

"I beg you Donovan... I have tried everything. Please help me," came the broken voice of a man, each word trembling with desperation. 

She stepped into the dimly lit living room and spotted a man crying on the armchair, clutching his handkerchief as if it were his lifeline. Her father sat across him with an empathetic expression on his face.

"Patrick, unless you tell me what is going on, I would be unable to help you," Donovan said, trying to console the man. 

Beatrice had gone unnoticed by the two men, hiding herself in the shadow of the doorway, listening intently to the conversation.

Patrick sniffled, wiping his eyes as he spoke. "It's... it's the nobleman, Lord Haverton. I borrowed some money from him when times were tough, and I gave him the deeds to my land as collateral. We agreed on a three-percent interest, Donovan, I swear it! But when I went to repay the loan, he demanded triple—thrice what we agreed on. I... I can't afford that. I'll lose my farm, my home, everything!"

"Did you pay the loan on time?" Donovan asked, "Because otherwise, the law will allow Haverton to increase the interest."

"Yes! I went to pay him yesterday. I had one more week left to pay it off but because I got surplus profits from my crops, I decided to get it done with as early as possible."

Donovan leaned forward, his brows furrowed in thought. "Haverton's known for his greed, but what you're saying... it's more than unjust—it's theft." 

Beatrice felt her fists clench as the story unraveled. She knew this kind of corruption was rampant among the nobles, but hearing it firsthand was infuriating. Donovan rapped his fingers against the table, deep in thoughts.

"The Vigil will help you, Patrick. You will have you deeds by today evening and you have my word," Donovan said as he stood up, with resolve in his voice.

Patrick's eyes welled up again, this time with a glimmer of hope. "Thank you, Donovan. Truly, I... I don't know what I'd do without your help."

"Go home, Patrick," Donovan said, placing a firm hand on the man's shoulder. "Wait for my signal. We'll make sure Haverton regrets taking advantage of you."

Patrick nodded and, with a shaky sigh of relief, stood up to leave, mumbling grateful words as he made his way out the door.

"What's the plan, papa?" Beatrice asked, stepping forward.

Donovan gave her a long, assessing look before speaking. "The Vigil will help, but this mission... it'll be risky. You and Derin should sit this one out."

"But why-"

"Because this mission is dangerous, Bea. Haverton has connections, and his estate is heavily guarded. I can't risk you and Derin getting caught."

Beatrice crossed her arms, her defiance simmering just below the surface. "We're a part of this group, papa. We've faced danger before."

Donovan sighed, shaking his head. "Not like this. You'll stay behind and wait for further instructions. That's final."

Beatrice's heart pounded in her chest, but she knew better than to argue further—for now.

***