Awakening Domination System: But I'm a Slave?-Chapter 234: Fall of Valtair [30]

The air in council room hummed with power... high vaulted ceilings, and the heavy oak table where matters of state were decided.

King Grey sat at the head, his crown catching the afternoon light streaming through stained glass windows.

Queen Vesperine occupied the seat to his right, her posture perfect, her expression unreadable as always.

Around them, five members of the inner court debated over ongoing and upcoming matters. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

Then the shadows in the corner of the room rippled.

A hooded figure materialized from the darkness itself, silent as death.

They moved with inhuman grace, crossing the distance to the Queen’s chair. Then the figure knelt, producing a sealed envelope from within their cloak.

Vesperine took it with a slight incline of her head.

The hooded figure dissolved back into shadow, leaving only a faint chill in the air.

The conversation had stopped. All eyes turned to the Queen.

Vesperine broke the wax seal with her thumb, unfolded the parchment, and read.

Her lips twitched, but she quickly smoothed her expression back to neutral and passed the letter to her husband.

King Grey read it.

And his knuckles whitened around the edges of the parchment.

"Traitor!"

He shot to his feet. "Guards!"

The chamber doors burst open. Four royal guards entered at attention, hands on sword hilts.

"Arrest that heretic immediately," Grey commanded, his voice shaking with fury. "Bring him to the dungeons. Use whatever force is necessary."

"Your Majesty." The captain of the guard saluted and turned on his heel.

The council members exchanged glances. No one dared speak.

-------

The afternoon sun painted the garden in gold and amber. Roses climbed the stone walls.

Valtair sat on the marble bench, barely seeing any of it.

There was a leather-bound tome in his hands. Dark leather, with crimson patterns embossed on the cover.

"All the secrets you need," the traveling merchant had whispered, to him. "To escape your cage, my lord. To claim the power you deserve."

Valtair’s heart hammered against his ribs. His hands trembled.

And just as he opened the book—

The garden gate exploded inward with a crash.

Valtair jerked up.

Royal guards poured through the opening, weapons drawn. Their armor gleamed.

"Lord Valtair!" The captain strode forward, a scroll in his left hand. "By order of King Grey, you are under arrest for high treason against the crown!"

"What?" Valtair’s voice came out strangled. "What are you... I haven’t—"

"You stand accused of conspiring with foreign powers, of passing intelligence to enemies of the kingdom, and of plotting against the throne!" The captain’s voice rang out, loud enough to carry. Loud enough for the household staff to hear.

Vivienne appeared in the doorway to the manor, her face pale. "Husband?"

The captain’s eyes fell to the bench. To the dark tome lying open there.

He went rigid. His hand shot out, grabbing Valtair’s collar. "You would dare bring this into your home?"

He snatched up the tome with his other hand, holding it away from himself as though it might burn him. The crimson patterns seemed to glow in the sunlight.

"This is forbidden magic! Demonic filth!" The captain’s face twisted with rage and disgust. "You’ve damned yourself, Valtair!"

"I don’t... I didn’t know—" Valtair stammered.

The captain slapped him with the back of his hand.

Pain exploded across Valtair’s cheek. He staggered, tasting copper.

"Bind him!" The captain threw the tome to another guard, who caught it gingerly, wrapping it in a cloth. "Bind the wife as well. She’s complicit in harboring this heretic."

"No!" Vivienne’s cry pierced the garden. "I had nothing to do with—"

Two guards moved toward her. She tried to run, but they caught her easily, wrenching her arms behind her back.

"Please!" Valtair lunged forward, but guards slammed him to the ground. Iron shackles locked around his wrists. "She’s innocent! She knew nothing!"

The captain ignored him, turning to the remaining guards. "Take a squad and arrest his sons. Bring them to the dungeons."

"The boys?" Valtair’s voice broke. "No, they’re children! They’ve done nothing!"

"They’re your blood." The captain spat at Valtair’s feet. "The rot runs deep in this family."

They hauled Valtair to his feet. The world spun. His cheek throbbed. Vivienne was sobbing.

As they dragged him toward the gate, Valtair caught one last glimpse of his garden. Then he gestured at the tome.

"I don’t know where that came from!" His voice cracked with desperation. "I swear on my honor... someone must have planted it! I would never—"

"Your honor?" The captain’s laugh was bitter. "You have no honor left to swear on, Casten."

Then more guards emerged from inside the manor, carrying wooden boxes. Three of them, each small enough to fit in a man’s arms.

The captain’s eyes narrowed. "What did you find?"

The lead guard set his box down on the bench and flipped open the lid.

Inside, nestled in black velvet, were vials of dark liquid that seemed to absorb the light. Bone fragments carved with symbols.

A blade with a handle wrapped in something that looked disturbingly like dried skin. Candles made of blackened wax.

The second box revealed more. Parchments covered in the same script as the tome. A small crystal that pulsed with a faint, nauseous red glow. Dried herbs bound with hair.

The third box contained a partial skull, its surface etched with ritualistic markings.

Vivienne made a strangled sound of horror.

The captain’s face went white, then red with fury. He turned on Valtair. "Still claiming innocence?"

"I’ve never seen those before!" Valtair’s voice. "I don’t know what those are, where they came from!"

"Where were these found?" the captain demanded.

"His private study, Captain," the guard reported.

"No." Valtair shook his head frantically, chains rattling. "No, I don’t even... I would know-I would have seen—"

The captain drove his fist into Valtair’s stomach.

"Ugh!"

The air left his lungs. He doubled over, would have collapsed if the guards weren’t holding him upright.

"Lying filth." The captain grabbed Valtair’s hair, yanking his head back. "You’ve been practicing dark arts under our very noses. Plotting against the crown with demonic power."

"Please, I..." Valtair could barely breathe. "My wife, my sons, they’re—"

The captain released him with a shove. "Get the woman into the carriage. We’ll take her to the castle for questioning."

Two guards took Vivienne.

"Husband?" she whispered. "What did you do?"

"Nothing! I did nothing! Vivienne, you have to believe me—"

But they were already carrying her away, toward the black carriage waiting outside the garden gate.

The captain turned to his remaining men. "Drag this one all the way. Let the others see what becomes of traitors."

Valtair’s blood turned to ice. "What? No, you can’t—"

"Strip him of his house colors."

Rough hands tore at his clothes. They ripped away his fine doublet, leaving only his shirt and trousers. One guard yanked the ring from his finger so violently it scraped skin.

"Captain, please! I’ll walk! I’ll cooperate!"

The captain smiled. "You’ll be dragged, heretic. All the way through the city to the castle. Let everyone see Lord Valtair for what he truly is."

They attached a chain to his shackles and mounted their horses.

Valtair’s eyes went wide with horror.

"Please," he whispered. "Please don’t do this."

The captain wheeled his horse toward the gate. The chain went taut.

Valtair stumbled forward, forced to move or be dragged. He looked back at his household staff, the butler, the maids, the groundskeeper, all gathered in shock at the doorway.

They wouldn’t meet his eyes.

One by one, they bowed their heads. Not in respect. In shame.

His own house guards stood at along the path, their faces carefully blank. As the royal guards approached with their disgraced lord stumbling behind, each house guard bowed, acknowledging not Valtair, but the authority of the crown.

They parted.

"No," Valtair breathed. "No, don’t, I’m still your lord!"

But he wasn’t. Not anymore.

The chain jerked. Valtair’s feet skidded on the gravel. He barely kept his balance, forced into a stumbling run to keep pace.