Chapter 91: The Noble That Barked

The tea had gone cold an hour ago.

Nobody had touched the sweets either.

Pope Verdigris, Mother Euphemia, Cardinal Feldwin and a row of church dignitaries sat on one side of the long table, and King Aldrius sat alone on the other.

The room was tense, but only on one side of it.

The Church looked like it was enjoying a lovely afternoon.

The Pope sipped his tea with half-closed eyes.

Euphemia stared into the middle distance.

Cardinal Feldwin counted the ceiling beams.

For the most part, they seemed quite unbothered.

The King looked like he’d swallowed a fishbone. Even with Hershant standing right behind him, his knee wouldn’t stop bouncing.

None of the consorts had come. They were all busy with their sons, and the only one with any free time was Minerva. King Aldrius had considered asking her for exactly one second before dropping the idea.

The Pope despised every race that wasn’t elven, which was only thanks to Lady Euphemia and Sword Sister Rita’s impeccable reputation. Thus, putting a blood witch in front of him now would only make Aldrius’s case worse.

So he sat there in uncomfortable silence.

"Now then."

Pope Verdigris set down his cup.

"Where exactly is Count Vesta?"

"I... that is, I’m not..."

The King cleared his throat.

"He was meant to arrive before all of you. I haven’t the faintest idea why he—"

"Aldrius."

The Pope’s smile didn’t move an inch.

"Should I discover you’re lying, or that you’re sheltering a noble who harmed an institution under the Church, I can assure you the consequences will be severe. Is that clear?"

His eyes were gently closed and his smile was gentler, yet cold sweat ran down the King’s spine anyway.

Aldrius opened his mouth, but couldn’t find his voice, not in front of this many holy men.

Hershant narrowed his eyes at the Pope.

"That sounds like an affront to His Majesty’s authority. Didn’t the Church and the peerage agree to treat each other with mutual respect?"

The King pressed a hand to his chest.

’Phew. What would I do without Hershant?’

Bang!

The Pope’s palm hit the table, and the teacups jumped but was still smiling.

"An affront? No. That was a threat."

His voice stayed soft, which made it worse.

"The Church has respected every king, even through their most questionable choices. And yours, Aldrius, may be the worst of the lot. Slavery. Polygamy. Lust. And a blood witch for a queen, a demon sympathizer sitting on the throne. Those creatures are tools. They are animals. They are NOT people. Yet the face of this kingdom went against the Church and married one."

There was an ugly emotion, one that went beyond anger, in the old man’s eyes for a moment. Then it faded, as if it had never been there. Even Lady Euphemia was partly unsettled by it, and the King very nearly wet himself.

As for Cardinal Feldwin, he nodded at every word and syllable that left the Pope’s thin lips.

"And now a noble of your court has attacked the Church itself. You’re lucky you still have your head. But I digress."

He held out an open hand, as peaceful as a prayer.

"It’s fine. Simply hand Count Vesta over to the Church, along with his lands and everything under his control. Do all the tedious political paperwork, please. A fair trade, isn’t it? One noble’s life for the lives of many innocent villagers. Unless the peerage sees those villagers as expendable trash?"

That gentle smile was the most infuriating thing the trembling king had ever seen.

But he knew better than to challenge it. These people had lived through the Era of Blood and things far worse. A man like him couldn’t compare.

He stood up from his chair.

"Since Count Vesta has yet to appear, why don’t we take a carriage and visit him ourselves? How does that sound?"

Pope Verdigris glanced at Euphemia.

She nodded, elegant as ever.

"Wonderful..." the Pope said.

They filed out of the castle together and into the courtyard.

From the gates, they could already see a crowd outside.

Nobles. Dozens of them. They weren’t dressed for a meeting, and they weren’t just standing around either. There was something there they were all staring at.

"Hm?"

Aldrius walked ahead with his guards.

The Pope and his entourage followed out of curiosity.

And what they saw shocked them to their core.

Pope Verdigris had been through countless wars and carried the scars to prove it... he’d never seen anything like this.

Mother Euphemia lifted a kerchief to her mouth.

For once, her eyes didn’t look distant.

But no one was shaken more than the King, who stood frozen, unable to say or do anything. Then he noticed Prince Godfrey and Queen Esmarie standing off to the side.

"Godfrey. When did this happen?"

Godfrey swallowed hard.

"Th-, This morning. He’s been running around like that for a while. We barely managed to restrain him."

"I see."

That was all the King said before looking back.

In the middle of the crowd was Count Vesta.

He was alive. That was the only good thing about him. His naked body was so burned that there was barely any skin left to see, just raw, weeping red flesh.

And somehow that wasn’t even the worst of it.

He was crawling on all fours.

A chain was fastened around his neck and each limb to keep him from bolting too far. He pulled against it anyway, panting, tongue hanging out, drool dripping onto the stones. Behind those eyes there wasn’t a single human thought left.

They were the eyes of a mutt.

"Is that... Count Vesta?"

"Gods above. What happened to him?"

"Did he go mad? Was it a curse?"

"Look at his skin, my goodness! Who would do this to a member of the royal court?!"

"Bring a priest! Bring a healer! Bring anyone!"

"...Honestly, who’s going to be brave enough to go near that?"

The nobles kept whispering.

At the back, Grand Chamberlain Hershant and Pope Verdigris glanced at each other.

It was a small look of confusion.

Neither of them had done this, neither of them could even imagine a fate this cruel for Vesta.

Then, from somewhere beyond the crowd, a cheerful whistle drifted over.

Several nobles turned. There’s a young man was strolling toward them with his shirt half undone and a bottle of wine swinging from one hand.

"Wooahh~ What’s going on here?"

Prince Adonis, Fifth of his name, looked every bit the wastrel.

The King stared at his son.

"Where have you been?"

"At the brothel, obviously."

Adonis chuckled and took a swig.

"I spent all night celebrating my new salt road. With the kind of money I’ll be making, I can afford to sleep with so many wo—"

"Can you be quiet for one second?!"

Esmarie’s voice thundered across the courtyard.

"Can’t you see what’s happened to Count Vesta?! If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t even have that trade route! How does an undeserving animal like you end up with it?!"

Adonis leaned back with a lazy smile and turned the wine bottle in his hand.

"Hm. From where I’m standing, Vesta’s the animal here."

"WATCH YOUR MOUTH!"

King Aldrius’s roar rang through the courtyard.

Adonis staggered back a few steps, very drunkenly.

Hershant moved between them and cleared his throat.

"I believe His Highness has had a bit too much to drink."

Through all of this, the burned, naked, fat noble who’d been barking at the sky went quiet.

He had turned his head toward the fifth prince.

Then he whimpered, small and frightened, like a dog that had seen a raised hand. Only one man in this courtyard knew what had happened to him.

Adonis had made him strip. Then he’d made him bark.

Every time the sound came out wrong, he sent electricity flying through Vesta’s body. Then another, and another, each one worse than the last. The prince hadn’t cared that the Count’s skin was peeling like the rind of a grapefruit, or that he was barely clinging to life. He had only wanted one thing.

...An obedient dog.

Somewhere in the middle of it, Vesta lost the will to speak.

Then the will to stand.

And finally, the will to think like a human being at all.

Whenever a shadow of that proud noble tried to rise in him, all he remembered were the shocks, and his knees would buckle until he was back on all fours, barking at nothing.

Adonis tipped the bottle back and chugged.

From the corner of his lips, he grinned at the blank, hollow eyes of Count Vesta.

Then he put two fingers in his mouth.

Fweeeeeet—!

A loud whistle sounded through the courtyard.

Every noble flinched.

And Count Vesta’s head snapped up. His ears seemed to twitch, and his whole body began to tremble.

Then, wagging a tail he didn’t have, he started crawling straight toward the fifth prince.