NOVGO.NET Chapter 1056: Guilty?
Chapter 1056: Guilty?
Quinlan rose from his seat.
“Wait!”
His voice boomed across the hall.
Many eyes turned toward him.
Including the king’s.
A ripple moved through the hall. Hushed murmurs rose from the gathered nobility, each voice barely above a whisper yet full of speculation.
The masked enigma had moved again.
Ever since his return to the feast from being healed, Lord Black had been content to linger at the edges. He was present, yes, but in the background.
Many had assumed he would remain that way, playing the dutiful guest. Those assumptions were shattered the moment he openly interrupted the king’s command.
It was a dangerous line to cross.
Young ladies who sported a faint, pink blush on their delicate cheeks covered their lips with their fans, eyes wide, realizing that such an act could be interpreted as breaking the law. Arguably, he was disrupting justice in the king’s own court.
But Quinlan didn’t care for such thoughts.
“Yes?” King Alexios asked, not angered like many expected him to, especially after the horrible verbal abuse Alastair received moments ago. His tone was unreadable, his expression a perfect mask of dispassion. Yet, perhaps… perhaps there was the smallest flicker of amusement in those sharp eyes of his.
The rhythm of Alastair’s killings halted as he sensed the air in the room change. His bloodstained hands froze right before landing another devastating punch, turning to regard the source.
Quinlan felt the weight of hundreds of eyes now pressing down on him. Their gazes were heavy, scrutinizing, hungry for what would come next. But he knew this was not the moment to falter. He inhaled once, deeply, and steeled his heart.
“My king,” Quinlan began. His voice was calm but booming, carrying to every ear in the chamber. “I hate needless violence.”
Elias, the first prince, was the one to speak up first. “Needless? These are criminals, brought straight from the prison of a duke.”
Quinlan nodded politely. “A very valid point, Your Highness.” Then, with deliberate slowness, his gaze slid toward Alastair. It was a gaze that dripped with contempt, as if he were looking at refuse rotting in the sun. “But one must also consider whose prison the prisoners in question came from.”
The motion did not go unnoticed.
Alastair’s fists clenched so hard the knuckles blanched white. They trembled, veins bulging beneath his skin. But he said nothing. He could say nothing. Even he understood he’d already barked far more than he should have today. Throwing a fit right now would only paint him in an even worse light. After all, all Quinlan did was look at him with similar eyes the king did and question his competence, which had already been brought into question by the highest authority in the kingdom.
Elias stroked his chin. “Continue.”
“I don’t understand,” Quinlan said, turning his attention back to the front, “how it was decided that Duke Alastair was an incompetent ruler, and yet… somehow, his justice system is to be trusted without question.”
A subtle shift passed through the air. Elias’s expression darkened a fraction. It was not an overt change, but noticeable enough for the keen-eyed to see. Quinlan was treading dangerously close to questioning the king’s judgment. It was the king who ordered their execution.
But all Quinlan could do was press on.
With a sweep of his hand, he gestured toward the bodies, or what bloody pool remained of them, already cooling on the marble. “That woman who ran a child-slave brothel? She deserved far worse than being obliterated by a single punch. The broker as well. And as for that…” his eyes flicked to the smuggler’s corpse, a flash of pure disgust in his tone “… any member of the Consortium deserves worse than death. I’ll see to it they receive just that.”
Gasps rippled through the younger ladies of the court.
Was Lord Black declaring his ambition?
Did he mean to challenge for the vacant duchy?
He all but confirmed it now!
Quinlan ignored the whispers. His gaze turned fully upon King Alexios once again.
“These criminals deserved it. But what of the wife of a criminal? A woman who allegedly benefited from her husband’s wealth, yet with no proof of her involvement? I have not heard any particular offenses from Lord Alastair. From what I can tell, she is only here due to association.”
He let his eyes roam the hall now, catching the attention of every young and impressionable noblewoman present. His voice, when it came, was smooth, persuasive, impossible to ignore.
“Perhaps she married him when they were both simple commoners, long before his rise in crime. What I want to ask is as such: should the wife of a criminal truly be held responsible for the crimes committed by the husband…?”
Several noblewomen leaned forward in their seats, fans lowering just enough to show the wide-eyed uncertainty on their faces. The law was clear, and yet…
Calienne’s cool, measured voice cut through the silence.
“The law,” she began, “states that the family of a criminal is to be treated as criminals themselves. Blood, spouse, and household alike.”
A few of the ladies nodded faintly at her words, but Quinlan didn’t miss the way others shifted, as though the taste of that truth sat bitter in their mouths.
“Princess Calienne, you’re only half right. That is how it has been interpreted,” Quinlan agreed, “and enacted for as long as anyone here remembers. But the actual wording of the law condemns those who ’willingly aid, abet, or benefit from the crimes of the accused.’ Willingly. Such a small word, yet it changes everything. But for some reason, ’many’ in positions of power have ignored it.”
Indeed. The kingdom has been dealing with outlaws for time immemorial. Somehow, along the way, that small word, willingly, has somehow been… pushed to the side. The kingdom was fighting two perpetual wars with immensely strong nations, had great internal troubles, and had many other problems to spend its resources on. As such, it has become tradition to just purge criminals and those associated with them.
It was easier on those who were in power, and small injustices happening bothered no one, not the king, not the nobility. After all, if one dug deep enough, it would be possible to frame almost any family member as a willing associate. Many helped their criminal family member in even a small manner, which would justify their punishment.
Quinlan gestured to the woman in question. The slumped, wrists bound, woman, whose posture was more that of someone long broken than a criminal mastermind.
“Tell me. Does this woman look like someone who masterminded her husband’s rise in the underworld? Or does she look like someone who has already been punished by fate itself?”
Eyes followed his hand, and the image spoke louder than his words.
He returned his gaze to the hall, locking eyes with the young ladies first, then sweeping to the older wives.
“If we take my earlier suggestion, that she married him before he chose this path, then I’m sure many of you can imagine the difficulty of her situation once her husband decided to become a criminal. There are husbands who treat their wives as trophies, ornaments to display, never asking their opinion. It is possible she was never asked if she wanted to be married to a criminal. She was simply told to ’deal with it.’”
Whispers flitted through the air. Several young ladies began nodding hesitantly, but the most vigorous nods came from the wives themselves. Some of them shot thinly veiled glares at their own husbands, their expressions saying they understood all too well what it meant to have no say in a man’s decisions.