Moonlight Ball - CHapter 186

“Margaret is gone?”

Frederick, still reeling from the aftermath of the queen’s assassination, was questioned with a haunted expression in the dimly lit dungeon. Rumors circulated that Margaret, who endured brutal torture, was the real queen; she was taken away by Iris and met her demise. Tortured? Beaten? It seemed incredulous. Why would the queen administer punishment in her private chambers? There had to be an advisor involved.

Days later, Frederick unraveled the truth.

He pieced it together gradually, gathering fragments from the guards’ narratives like a rat scavenging for fallen crumbs. He felt less than human—an outcast from the family implicated in the queen’s assassination. The guards spoke ill of him, spewing disdain. A tainted, illegitimate child. Each taunt sent shivers down Frederick’s spine, as if he were burned alive.

Yes, they weren’t blood siblings.

They were, in a sense, so… estranged.

Margaret’s life allegedly ended with a few uttered words. For the first time, Frederick comprehended his sister’s struggles. Their only common ground was being Lehman En Surah’s offspring. Yet he was the legitimate one. This fact served as the linchpin of their identity and self-worth. Or so he thought.

For Margaret, weakened by brutal torture, this distinction became a powerful wedge. Sleep eluded her, and her racing heart drowned out reason. What turmoil must she have faced? Her foremost concern, rather than the will to live, was confronting her father. She needed confirmation. Is it true, Father? Are you truly my father? If not, why subject me to such cruelty all these years?

Frederick’s wait didn’t stretch for long. Just two days later, his two elder brothers and their father, Lehman, found themselves imprisoned in the same grim dungeon.

“What the hell is going on!”

Lehman’s voice echoed through the confined space. Randall and Liszt, the two older brothers, were bewildered, desperate to placate their father. The trio, previously jubilant with a sacred mission, now looked disheveled, their appearances marred by the oppressive atmosphere. The air was thick with a musty scent, worse than any living conditions. Still, the fact that Lehman looked better than Randall and List indicated that both sons had willingly sacrificed for their father.

Frederick cast cold eyes upon his father, Lehman. Rising in anger, he was swiftly subdued by a guard’s sharp spear. Randall stepped forward, intercepting the guard and bearing the punishment meant for Frederick. Nevertheless, Lehman struggled to contain his fury, emitting a disgruntled growl.

For the first time, Frederick saw beyond the fatherly facade and glimpsed the man named Lehman.

“Frederick!”

Now Lehman’s anger turned towards Frederick.

“You ask what’s going on! Aren’t your father’s words true?”

Lehman’s fist swung, aiming for Frederick’s face. Normally, Frederick would have accepted the blow. Instead, he seized Lehman’s weakened wrist. Randall and Liszt stared in disbelief.

“Frederick! Are you crazy?!”

Liszt, the eldest son, shouted. Frederick chuckled, shaking his head as he observed his older brother, who bore a striking resemblance to their father but, in reality, likely didn’t share his essence.

“Brother, in my life, my mind has never been as clear as this moment.”

Liszt recoiled, taken aback by Frederick’s erratic behavior. Something significant had happened to Frederick; that much was clear. It felt like a man’s worst nightmare. Since that morning, when he awoke to the shocking absence of his manhood, Frederick had teetered on the brink of insanity. Liszt had anticipated it, but the reality surpassed his expectations.

A sense of foreboding washed over Liszt. He exchanged glances with Randall. Though they weren’t particularly close, rumors of their mutual disdain during battles against demonic beasts in the underground had reached Liszt’s ears. Now, Randle shared a knowing look, as if sensing the same ominous atmosphere.

“Father.”

Frederick spoke, shaking his head.

“No, brother… Is it?”

Lehman’s eyes widened, and Frederick discerned the correct answer in that gaze. If this were nonsense, Riemann would have erupted in anger, screaming at Frederick and dismissing him as crazy. Frederick earnestly wished for that reaction.

But Lehman wasn’t angry. He merely gazed up at Frederick, holding his breath, as if caught in an act of deception.

“I see, you are my brother.”

At Frederick’s revelation, List and Randall widened their eyes and turned to look at Lehman. Brother? How was that possible?

Yet, a realization dawned on List and Randall. Ah, they understood. It wasn’t their father. That explained why he never loved them as much. It wasn’t because Lehman was inherently harsh; it was because he truly despised them.

“Brothers. He’s our eldest brother.”

Frederick said it with a smile, but his eyes gleamed with an unsettling intensity.

“Frederick, wait a minute. How is that possible?”

Randall questioned. Despite grasping the emotional truth, his logical mind struggled to keep up with the unfolding situation.

“All of us. From my brother.”

Frederick, gesturing towards the first on the list, pointed to an empty space.

“Even the departed Margaret.”

“Is Margaret really gone?”

Liszt inquired, but Frederick paid no heed. Margaret was gone, tortured to a gruesome end. So what? In reality, none of them had ever truly sympathized with her. Their sorrow was always self-centered. And it was painfully apparent. They were parentless. The only one feeling sorry for them was themselves!

“Everyone, we are the grandchildren of our grandfather and mother. All of us. So, including this Lehman here.”

Frederick seized Lehman’s wrist, shaking it with a fervor that bordered on malevolence. Lehman screamed, but Frederick pressed on, disregarding the cries.

“Meaning brothers, we are all bastards.”

Ah, of course. Frederick chuckled bitterly, giving Lehman’s wrist another forceful shake. Lehman’s screams reverberated through the prison once more, yet neither Rand nor Liszt spared him a glance. Both were fixated on Frederick, their breath caught in their throats. Frederick declared,

“Except for this brother.”

****

Duke Zeneth has woken up with a pounding headache each morning lately. The news of Margaret’s demise was quickly followed by reports of a skirmish in the dungeon, where her sons allegedly slew Count Surah. Madness begat more madness in his realm. It wasn’t confined to the lower echelons; it had permeated the upper strata as well.

The king exhibited an unwavering determination to leave no trace of treason untouched. He roamed the country, fueled by a resolute desire to eliminate every traitor. This relentless pursuit echoed the public’s fervor for more bloodshed. Count Surah had become irrelevant, and the Marquis En Samain had yet to reach the capital. The woman who plunged the knife into the queen’s stomach met her end. The populace clamored for more sacrifices.

Duke Zeneth found himself entangled in treason, having taken Margaret as his mistress and maintained a deep connection with Rosemary, the daughter of the Marquis of Samain. His stomach tightened with anxiety.

I shouldn’t have returned.

Remaining abroad would have been wiser, but his return coincided with chaos. What is his course of action now? Should he flee? Yet, hadn’t the king isolated himself from the country? How could he convince the border gates to open?

“I need to use that.”

Duke Zeneth’s words startled his vassals. Ah, yes, that…

“The only way to open the borders is to do just that! Hurry!”

The duke issued the command and left the hall, leaving his retainers to sigh in resignation. Two choices lay ahead: follow the duke’s directives or report to the king. However, the king’s sword showed no mercy in these trying times. Could they trust their lives to mere words?

It couldn’t unfold that way. In such a scenario, there is ultimately only one path.

“It’ll be okay.”

“Once we break the border, everyone can just cross over. We’ll be safe.”

“Usuya said it responds first to magic power.”

“Let’s not forget the magic seal.”

“Timing is crucial. Let’s strategize.”

Yes, we’ll be fine. We have to believe that. We definitely will!

Individuals can be at risk when entangled in something, but the peril peaks when an entire group is involved. They should have approached the king at this juncture or considered seeking help from someone like Cessian—a more moderate option. Instead, they ended up making the worst choice.