Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1057: Truth

Calienne’s voice had a slight edge to it now.

“If that were the case, the woman still had plenty of chances to go to the authorities.”

Quinlan’s gaze didn’t waver as he responded.

“Does it look like this woman was ever allowed to exercise such freedom? Husbands can be controlling. Criminal husbands, even more so. It is entirely plausible she was chained to a basement for decades, long before the duke ever imprisoned her.”

The words made the air in the banquet hall feel heavier. Not only was this man questioning the royal family’s and the whole nation’s justice, but he seemed to be more than happy to start an argument with the princess.

To her credit, Calienne didn’t seem to take offense. She didn’t live for multiple centuries to act like a young brat. Instead, the woman’s eyes lingered on the alleged criminal’s ruined form. Her thin frame was wrapped in a dull prison gown, wrists raw from shackles, skin pale from years without sunlight. Her once-dark hair was streaked with white, tangled beyond care. There was no dignity left in her posture, only a hollow shell.

But the woman herself didn’t look toward the princess.

Her attention was elsewhere, fixed not on Quinlan, but on his table.

Specifically, on a brown-haired woman seated a few chairs away, a half-mask concealing the curve of her cheekbones and nose.

Jasmine.

Even with the mask, even if she was only permitted to see her daughter once a year, the mother recognized her daughter.

No twitch of her lips, no overt sign gave her away. She was too cautious for that. But in her eyes, dull and lifeless only moments before, there was a little spark. Just enough to betray that she had seen her.

When she finally spoke, her voice was as Quinlan had painted it in the heads of the nobility. Thin and ragged, the voice of someone who had been tormented for as long as she could remember.

“My ’husband’…” She spat the word with such incredible hatred that even Calienne’s heart skipped a beat. “Had ensured I was never without at least one guard who would stop me from speaking to the authorities.”

A murmur rippled across the hall.

“When I became pregnant with our daughter… I knew this was not the life I wanted for her. I tried to run.”

She sighed deeply, letting a long exhale leave her lungs. No one doubted the amount of grief she held as she said, “I didn’t make it far. He caught me and… handed me over to the duke himself.”

The audience gasped.

A criminal, giving his own wife to a duke? It defied reason. Such a move risked his secrets, his leverage.

That was when she added the final blow.

“There was a deal struck. Even in the duke’s prison, my husband was allowed to visit me any time he wished. I was tortured there by him… over and over again… as the guards watched.”

The reaction was immediate. Dozens of nobles jolted in their seats, whispers swelling to near chaos.

And then…

The king’s aura flared like a sudden storm, a tangible wave of pressure rolling over the hall. Conversations died in an instant.

“Alastair,” the king’s voice thundered, “explain yourself.”

The Duke of Greenvale visibly trembled, his complexion draining. But before he could stammer a word, his wife, Ophira, spoke up quickly.

Perhaps too quickly.

“Yes, Your Majesty. We did strike a deal with the man known as Broker,” she said, her tone defensive but oddly confident. “He handed certain prisoners from his… department… over to us for safekeeping.”

The hall erupted again in sharp, shocked gasps. The duchess had just admitted to it, openly.

Ophira pressed on before the noise could swallow her words. “Back then, we thought Broker the greatest fool in the world. He offered us the dumbest deal we’ve ever heard of. He paid us to house his prisoners. It was a perfect arrangement for Greenvale.

And, as the king can plainly see now, when the time was right, we broke the deal and took the prisoners for ourselves, bringing them here as tribute. No doubt Broker is livid this very moment.” Her lips curled in satisfaction, as though she were recounting a clever victory.

But the king’s gaze sharpened. “Was it Broker who was the fool, or was it that the Vesper Consortium was given so much leeway in your duchy that they came to trust you more than their own colleagues?”

“Did Broker expect his prisoners to be safer in your keep than in his own, where other consortium heads might pry them from him?”

The duchess’s self-satisfied smile withered in an instant.

Seeing that, the king only sighed, already well aware of their corruption. It was no secret to him that all his duchies were guilty of giving more room to the syndicates in their lands than permitted by law. These old syndicates were so ancient and powerful that they had deals with the ducal families that were much older than the current heads.

“The Duke and Duchess of Greenvale will remain after the celebrations conclude. We will have a thorough talk.”

At that, both Alastair and Ophira paled, neither daring to speak.

The king’s gaze then drifted to the battered woman on display, and then to Quinlan.

“So you propose we let her go because, based on the image you have so carefully painted, she might be innocent?”

“I wouldn’t dare propose such an illogical thing, King Alexios.” Quinlan met the king’s gaze without flinching. “I know you despise slavery, Your Majesty… and so do I.”

That earned him several confused looks from the noble ladies in attendance. More than a few pairs of eyes darted to the three women seated at his table, namely Sera, Kitsara, and Blossom, all wearing the unmistakable slave collars. Murmurs started up again, sharper this time.

Quinlan ignored them. “The slavery spell itself has many advantages.”

The king exhaled slowly. It was a long-suffering sound. “I’m well aware. A slave cannot lie if compelled to answer truthfully by their master.”

Even before Quinlan could respond, King Alexios had already flicked his fingers.