Novel Full Chapter 1055: Kill Them
Chapter 1055: Kill Them
The color of pure desperation drained from Alastair’s face, replaced by a flicker of dawning comprehension.
Home ground. Loyal bannermen. Wealth. Troop numbers unmatched. The words ’all you must do is win’ rang in his mind like a war drum.
The king hadn’t named a successor for his duchy and its properties. As such, who was the current owner of them? Perhaps the best answer would be the king, but he made no moves to claim it as his. As such, the next best option would be… Him.
Even if he was no longer a duke, he was still a noble who only had one of his titles stripped, not all his belongings.
In an instant, the fire of outrage swelling in his heart guttered and died, replaced by a different heat, the feverish desire for success. Open rebellion against the king’s tyranny evaporated from his thoughts immediately.
This was no execution. This was a game.
And games… could be won.
He bowed, but found the gesture insufficient. One of Alastair’s knees hit marble, and the Phantom League’s blood dried on top of it as he kneeled before his king. “I understand… My Liege. I’ll prove to you and the whole of Vraven that I’m the best choice.”
Alexios didn’t respond to the declaration with anything more than a little nod. The king then turned his attention toward the prisoners. “How many Shadow Vanguards are present in your offering?”
“… Nine.”
“Then you have nine points already. Excellent job.”
Sarcasm oozed from the king’s words, once again letting Alastair know how little he thought of the so-called birthday gift.
“Kill them.”
“Huh?” Alastair gasped, hearing the king’s cold words.
“Kill them,” Alexios repeated. “I have no need for these men and women. Letting criminals go is not an option; putting them in our prisons would be a waste of resources, so… for the third and final time, Alastair.”
“Kill them.”
Alastair rose with resolute eyes. “Yes, my king.” His attention turned to an older woman.
The brothel keeper screamed and kicked, eyes wide in animal terror. Alastair didn’t bother with drawing his blade. There was no need for such drastic measures to deal with the rabble. His fist slammed into her abdomen with such force her spine bowed, and the sound that followed was wet and ugly. Blood and fragments sprayed the marble as she was outright obliterated, exploding into little chunks of flesh.
The weapons broker lunged for the guards, snarling like a rabid dog. A backhand from Alastair tore teeth from his jaw, and the follow-up swing of the duke’s destroyed his head as if it were a watermelon.
The smuggler, whom Vex said was an important part of the drug department, made it two steps toward the dais before Alastair’s boot caved in his sternum. The body folded around the impact and hit the ground in a twisted heap, chest a ruin of shattered bone.
The next didn’t make it three paces before the duke’s fist punched through his back and tore free through his chest, ripping the life out of him in one motion.
One by one, they fell, until the smell of blood grew so thick it clung to every breath.
Jasmine’s hands clutched the arms of her seat so tightly her knuckles whitened. Her chest rose and fell with each brutal execution happening before their very eyes, each breath shallow, each one threatening to spill into a sob.
Her mother was among the prisoners.
The woman’s spine curved in on itself, her hair a curtain shielding her face. Even when she was the object of discussion, she did not speak up.
Now, again, she made no move to save herself. The woman did not flinch when the duke’s first tore flesh beside her. She did not recoil when warm blood splashed across her. It was as if she had already left this place, already welcomed death into her arms.
Quinlan’s gaze lingered on her. ’What kind of life grinds a person down to that? Even Iris, after all her torturous captivity, had a desire to live…’
But he wasn’t allowed to let his mind wander, not when his beloved woman was hyperventilating next to him because her mother was about to be killed. He simply couldn’t let this happen.
As such, his thoughts began racing.
But the obvious answer, that he stood and declared her kin to one of his wives, was the most stupid one. The moment the court learned Jasmine, a lowborn Vesper Consortium member, was married to him, the mask of “Black the noble” would shatter. Nobles didn’t marry lowborn women, no matter how pretty and charming. At most, they’d be secret mistresses, nothing official. Outright marrying Consortium scum…? No noble would dare do that.
Devil was a member of the Consortium, and Jasmine was as well. Black could use strange elemental powers, so could Devil. Devil was a tall, muscular man surrounded by a harem of utterly gorgeous women, and so was Black…
He simply could not allow Jasmine’s identity to be revealed because the second that facade crumbled, so would his protection. The court wouldn’t hand the woman over. Instead, they’d tear him and every one of his wives to pieces.
’So what else?’
He considered bribery… Just no. Distraction… maybe possible, but far too risky. They’d likely be cut down before making their escape. False accusation… But how? Accuse what exactly? Perhaps… provoke Alastair into an honor duel? No, he’d get his ass beaten.
The walls of strategy closed in tighter and tighter around his throat with every breath.
And then… boots echoed. Alastair was walking toward them. The line of prisoners was thinning.
<Quin, do something!> Jasmine’s voice begged in his mind, choked with panic. <Please! Please! Mom’s right there!>
Her faith in him was absolute. Even now—especially now—she believed he could pull off the impossible.
Perhaps that’s the reason why his body moved before his mind even caught up.
Quinlan rose from his seat.
“Wait!”
His voice boomed across the hall.
Many eyes turned toward him.
Including the king’s.