Chapter 534: The Strange Little Detail

The doors opened, and in walked Marquess Avery with his son, Derrick right beside him.

Cherion spotted them immediately. His face brightened, and he raised a hand in an enthusiastic greeting, looking far more excited than one might expect from a formal morning visit.

Derrick’s eyes lit up the instant he caught sight of Cherion. Forgetting high-society formality for a fleeting second, his face broke into a broad, golden-retriever-like beam, and he enthusiastically waved back, his shoulders practically bouncing with genuine excitement.

"Your Grace, Lord Cherion," Marquess Avery spoke in a deep voice, stepping across the threshold onto the plush carpet. He placed his right hand over his chest and dipped his head in a bow. "Thank you for taking the time to agree to meet with us on such short notice. My household is deeply honored by your gracious invitation to the ducal manor."

"Of course, Marquess Avery," Zarius replied. "It is an honor to receive you both. When it concerns something as important as the safety of our families and the stability of the capital, there is no need to speak of inconvenience."

Derrick stepped forward next, looking at Zarius with a mix of awe and earnest concern. Taking in the Duke’s formidable presence, Derrick hesitated briefly before voicing his thoughts. "Your Grace... if I may be so bold, I hope hosting us today hasn’t put too much of a strain on you. We all know how demanding your schedule is, especially while managing your ongoing health recovery."

Zarius offered the young noble a faint, reassuring nod, his expression softening just a fraction. "I appreciate your concern, Lord Derrick. But fear not, it is merely a conversation over morning tea. I can still manage that much quite comfortably."

"Please, come inside," Cherion added cheerfully, gesturing down the grand corridor. "We’ve had the main drawing room prepared for our discussion."

As the group walked down the wide hallway toward the plush velvet settees arranged around the central glass tea table, Zarius prepared his performance. The exact moment Marquess Avery and Derrick turned their attentive gaze back onto him, the Duke’s entire aura shifted dramatically. The sharp, commanding warrior who had been chuckling with Cherion only an hour prior completely vanished into thin air.

In his place stood a man visibly weighed down by a heavy, lingering, and mysterious affliction.

Ahem... cough, cough!

Zarius brought a clean white silk handkerchief up to his lips, his chest heaving slightly as he pressed his other hand against his ribs, perfectly acting out the physical toll of a weakened, declining ruler struggling against his legendary ailment.

"Ah... forgive me, Marquess," Zarius rasped out in a low, gravelly voice, clearing his throat weakly as he lowered the handkerchief. "My condition... has been particularly stubborn on these days. Please, take your seats."

Marquess Avery’s sharp eyes flashed with a mixture of deep sympathy and quiet, analytical concern as he observed the Duke’s apparent frailty. "Think nothing of it, Your Grace. Please do not overexert yourself on our account. It is I who should apologize for burdening you with a formal call while your health remains so precarious."

Cherion instantly rushed to Zarius’s side with practiced, devoted tenderness, placing a gentle, supportive hand under Zarius’s broad arm to help guide him into the largest leather armchair near the hearth. "Careful, Zarius... please take a slow sip of the warm herbal tea first before speaking further."

Zarius offered Cherion a weak, deeply appreciative nod, sinking into the plush armchair with a quiet, breathy sigh that looked thoroughly convincing to everyone watching in the room.

Once everyone was seated around the glass table and the head steward had poured fresh cups of steaming black tea for the guests, Derrick couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer. He leaned forward over the table, looking across at Cherion with wide, eager eyes.

"Cherion!" Derrick called. "Did you get that crazy, huge delivery from the palace early this morning? Two royal carriages pulled up to our estate right at sunrise!"

Cherion blinked, taking a small, elegant sip of his tea before putting on a look of total, wide-eyed surprise. "OMG, you too?!"

He had actually been meaning to ask Derrick about the royal delivery himself once they got past the more serious discussion about Heinrich Bramwell. It seemed the Crown Prince’s unexpected generosity had been on both their minds, though Derrick had apparently beaten him to the question.

"Yes!" Derrick nodded vigorously, gesturing enthusiastically with his hands to show the scale of the delivery. "A massive crate straight from the imperial vault! It was packed to the absolute brim with rare moon-blossom medicinal teas, tonics, and these crystals."

Cherion let out a massive, dramatic sigh of relief, slumping back against his chair and placing a delicate hand over his heart. "Oh, thank goodness! You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that, Derrick! When those crates arrived at our gates at the break of dawn, I was practically breaking out in a cold sweat thinking Prince Yerel had only sent them to our estate! I was so unbelievably confused!"

On the inside, however, Cherion’s mind was racing with rapid, calculated thoughts. So he really did send them to Derrick as well. At least I’m not the sole target of his random imperial gestures... but still, what is Yerel actually playing at? Is he trying to buy public goodwill, monitor us through imperial messengers, or just build a protective narrative for the crown? Despite feeling relieved that he, no, they weren’t the only ones to receive such an unexpected delivery, Cherion couldn’t bring himself to drop his guard or fully trust Yerel’s true intentions.

"Wow, the Crown Prince is really so generous, isn’t he?" Derrick chimed in with a bright, innocent smile, shaking his head in open admiration. "To send such high-grade supplies from the inner vault just because we were shaken up!"

Marquess Avery set his porcelain teacup down onto its saucer with a soft, refined clink, chiming in with smooth courtly dignity. "You need not overthink it, Lord Cherion. His Highness Crown Prince Yerel is widely known for his strict adherence to duty, justice, and capital security. Having two young nobles of prominent houses attacked in a public establishment under his watch undoubtedly troubled him deeply. The Crown Prince is merely showing attentive worry for his people and ensuring our families feel fully supported by the throne."

Cherion offered a soft, innocent nod, his dark eyes shining with pure, naive compliance. "Yes... I certainly hope that is the case, Marquess. It is very reassuring to know the royal family is keeping such a close, protective eye on everyone’s safety."

Beside him, Zarius let out another low, rasping clear of his throat. He set his porcelain cup down onto the glass surface with a solid thud, shifting his weight forward as his dark, shadowed eyes locked directly onto Marquess Avery.

In a single instant, the playful chatter in the room gone, replaced by a tension.

"Now then..." Zarius began, his voice still rough from his supposed illness, but carrying enough authority to bring the conversation to a halt. "Should we move to the true purpose of why we met today?"

Marquess Avery’s polite smile slowly faded, his spine straightening as he met the Duke’s gaze with absolute seriousness. "Right. The matter at hand."

The Marquess took a short breath, his expression darkening as his tone turned stern and unyielding. "Heinrich Bramwell. What a foolish, reckless boy. To launch an unprovoked attack against the fiancé of Duke Valtrane, a prominent member of House Antel whom His Majesty treasures so deeply, and to simultaneously target the sole heir of House Avery... it was such a grave, catastrophic mistake. Just what on earth was he thinking?"

Cherion leaned forward slightly, placing one hand softly against his chest as he looked at Derrick with a expression of genuine apology. "It was revenge against me, plain and simple. Heinrich has held a bitter grudge against my name for a long time. Again, Derrick... I am so terribly sorry for dragging you into my personal mess and putting you in such a dangerous situation."

Derrick immediately waved his hand off in a hasty, dismissive motion, flashing Cherion a warm, reassuring grin. "Oh, please! Don’t apologize at all, Cherion! Honestly, Heinrich’s reputation wasn’t really nice to begin with anyway! Everyone in high society knew he was volatile and reckless. You didn’t drag me into anything, he was the lunatic who brought a weapon into a public washroom!"

Marquess Avery nodded in firm agreement with his son before turning back to Zarius and Cherion. "Indeed. I intend to visit the Ministry of Justice personally and review the formal charges. What do you think about that, Duke?"

"That was precisely my intention as well," Zarius replied, giving a slight nod. "I’ve already instructed my aide, Flio, to visit the Ministry of Justice and look into the matter. I’m glad to hear you’ve taken the same initiative, Marquess. It would be best if both our households stayed informed about the proceedings, especially given how serious these charges are."

Cherion nodded thoughtfully before glancing between the two men. "So, will there be a formal trial for Heinrich?"

"Most likely," Marquess Avery answered, giving a firm nod. "Given the severity of his crimes, the Ministry of Justice will have little choice but to bring the matter before the high court. Once the proceedings begin, that will be when we fulfill our respective roles as witnesses. You, Lord Cherion, Derrick, and your attendant will be expected to provide your testimonies."

"I see..." Cherion murmured, taking another small sip of his tea before setting the cup down. "And what sort of punishment would he be facing?"

"That remains to be determined," Zarius answered. He leaned back, looking at the tea in his cup for a brief moment before raising his eyes toward Cherion. "But whatever the final judgment may be, I intend to see that he receives the harshest punishment permitted by law."

There was no anger in his voice, which somehow made his words all the more intimidating.

"After what he did to you, I have no intention of allowing him to walk away lightly."