The Lycan King's Puppet-Chapter 17: Court Confrontation

Yeren received the note Andon held out.

His gaze flicked over the untidy and barely legible scrawl in the script.

"What do you advise I do?" He leaned closer to ask.

"Give him a fair hearing... but not in the presence of the other council members, lest they tie your hands with their subtle threats - what Lord Straught lacks for wisdom, they say, he makes up with pride."

"Send him in, then."

"No, Your Grace. You must punish him for insolently demanding your immediate attention. Keep him waiting an hour or... two."

He cracked a grin at Andon’s antics.

"Very well. I will do as you say."

Andon bowed and left.

Another person stepped into the throne room for a hearing.

Yeren sat at the throne. It was boring to listen to complaints that didn’t concern him for a better part of his day.

The room was large, with pillars framing the sides and entrances. Large windows flooded the room with light. His council members were seated at the side, chatting away instead of paying heed to the matter at hand.

They always seemed to forget he could hear every single word they said.

"Your Grace, my livestock farm was raided by a pack of wolves the previous night. That was my source of livelihood..."

Yeren withheld a sigh.

"And what may I do for you?"

"If you will, Your Grace, those wolves must be punished... it would sound a warning to the other offenders."

"And your livestock? You prefer justice over having them restored?"

The man nodded.

"Very well. I will address the matter."

The man bowed his head to the ground and left.

He beckoned to the guard at the door.

"Send the next one in."

There was a commotion at the door. The guards stood in formation, their hands on the hilts of their swords.

"Let me be! Unhand me! I demand to see the King!" He heard from behind the door.

It was very typical of Straught to make a fool of himself - and to think he was Stenly’s half brother.

"Get out of my way or I’ll have your head served to my niece on her wedding day!"

That caught his attention. The niece. He definitely wasn’t talking about the younger sister.

Claire.

Yeren had even intended to visit the man at his grand home to demand for her, but the man made things easier by coming to him.

He laid his hands on the hand rests of the throne, struggling not to clench his fists.

"Let him in!" He instructed.

Andon walked into the room using the entrance reserved for the King’s guards.

He took his place by Yeren’s side.

The large oak doors opened at last, revealing the obnoxious man.

His hair was slightly tousled and his garments were ruffled.

Yet, Yeren couldn’t deny that the man had a fair share of good looks at his age - more than many men could boast off.

Jarren dusted himself, his movements humming with anger.

There was a stirring among the council members - led by Lord Moonstone as expected.

"He shouldn’t be treated like that. He’s a peer of the realm!" Moonstone kept saying.

His attention returned to the cursing man in front of him.

"State your purpose before the King!" Andon called out, as was his duty.

Jarren hesitantly went down on one knee, his head bowed.

"Your Grace, your humble servant has been disgraced!"

Strangled coughs erupted through the room at his mention of ’humble servant’.

Yeren nodded.

"My apologies for your bruised dignity."

"Your Grace, that will not suffice."

He leaned back against the throne and clasped his hands. Andon supplied a generous goblet of wine just then. He was more than grateful.

He sipped as he looked down at the raging man.

"What would you have me do?" He asked after a long pause.

The court attendants in their colourful attires were seated at the right side of the room, silent as night.

"Hang them. All four of them." The man demanded through gritted teeth.

A gasp ran through the crowd, both the court attendants and the council members alike.

"You dare cast a death sentence at the King’s guard?" Lord Falstaff asked this time.

Jarren attempted a response but failed. His face reddened.

Whispers threaded through the hall.

Yeren raised his right hand up, silencing them with the single gesture.

"My apology should have to suffice, Lord Straught."

The man’s shoulders stiffened.

"You have my gratitude, Your Grace." He choked out.

"What can I do for you?"

"I was asked to inquire your favour myself on behalf of my house. The matter concerns the lands of my late half brother, Lord Harrick Stenly, who served in your court."

A nod from Yeren urged him to continue.

"Since a marriage between our families is now inevitable,"

Yeren’s lips tightened at the mention of the word ’inevitable’.

"I only ask that we join lands as well as people. Let the man that marries either of the girls inherit all their father’s lands and properties."

He glanced towards his left where his council was seated.

All eyes were on him. From their expressions, they all expected him to concede to the man’s abominable request.

He wants to take everything the poor girl has left.

Even her ruined home at Loodswood would belong to him.

"I will decline your request."

He expected shouts of objection, but the room remained silent.

Jarren’s outraged look, however, was unmistakable.

Andon was vibrating with suppressed laughter beside him.

"What is my offense!" He all but screamed at Yeren.

"I will only endorse such a request if either of the girls are married to their fated mates - which will guarantee that they will be treated well."

"What makes you think they won’t be treated well in my home! I am their uncle by blood and law, I would never harm a single hair on their heads!"

Yeren finally heaved the sigh he’d been wanting to let out.

"My decision is final. Send the next person in."

The dismissal was like a slap in the face, and they both knew it.

Jarren climbed to his feet with a bit of difficulty. He could perceive the scent of burning flesh from his perch on the throne.

It was true, then. Claire had sent him on fire.

He wished he had been present to have witnessed it himself.

Jarren was a screamer, he was certain of it. And the brunt of her brave action was her sister’s captivity. His grip on the arm of the chair tightened until the veins in his hands bulged.

But, the proud man wasn’t finished.

"If you have designs on my niece, stop hiding cowardly behind your throne! Say it!"

Another round of gasps passed through the room.

Moonstone was red in the face.

"Are you aware that you speak to the King?" Andon asked, begging for a chance to throw the man in the dungeons.

Yeren didn’t utter a word.

"Do not pretend that it’s not true! He has been seeking her attentions in private." He lowered his voice as he said the last part.

The court attendants started crying ’Slander!’

Yeren let them carry on for a while before silencing them.

"Do you have any proof of your accusation?"

The man fell silent.

"By attentions, what do you mean?" Lord Redmare asked to the hearing of everyone.

Jarren lifted his head to glare at Yeren.

Then, as if dunked by a pail of icy water, the man dusted his garments and attempted to walk out of the room.

The guards at the door blocked his path.

"What is the meaning of this?"

The guards did not budge.

He spun around, the hem of his tunic flying at the gesture.

"Allow me to pass, Your Grace."

Yeren stood up, then. The whole court stood along with him.

His lycan brooch was pinned precisely over his right breast. No one dared to meet his gaze.

"The hearing session has come to an end!" Andon called out.

Then, he processed down the flight of stairs. A wide path was cleared for him as he moved. The guards marched behind him.

When he got to the door, he stared down at the red-faced man. He was at least a head taller than him.

"Throw him in the dungeons."

Then, he walked away.

He could hear the man’s filthy curses as he was restrained.

Satisfaction washed over him.

"Wine!" He called as he entered the library.

A cup was handed to him.

Andon entered the room, a sly smile on his lips.

"He’ll never be able to show his face in court after this."

Yeren didn’t answer. He sank down into his usual highbacked chair by the window.

He could see Straught’s men waiting outside. They were holding up the banner of their house - the sigil of a red wolf.

The Stenly’s sigil was that of a large black wolf.

"How long do you intend to keep him in the dungeons?"

He took a long sip of his wine.

"As long as it takes for Miss Stenly to realize that I did it for her."