Chapter 245

Chapter 245

The flowers and leaves would grow no more on that broken branch. Deatrice wanted Lucius to understand this.

But Lucius wasn’t the only one clinging to it.

Even as the Duke’s deeds were exposed, stripping him of his power piece by piece, he desperately sought out Deatrice. He clung to the idea that the marriage between Deatrice and Lucius still held enough weight to turn the tables, using it as a bargaining chip in his negotiations.

Lucius grew increasingly exasperated with the Duke’s relentless requests for meetings, brushing him off repeatedly.

Lucius couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly at the Duke’s audacity—demanding a conversation as though it could somehow resolve everything, even while Lucius held the Duke’s brother captive.

There was a strange confidence about the Duke.

It wasn’t just the Duke; even the captives seemed emboldened, as if they knew Lucius wouldn’t dare kill Deatrice’s relatives.

As he passed the east annex where they were held, he could hear their haughty voices hurling sharp insults at him while maintaining their noble composure.

“Should I just kill them all?” Lucius mused aloud, wondering if his restraint had emboldened the Duke and his vassals to cause such chaos.

So, Lucius decided that he would kill the Duke’s most cherished brother, Filbert Vander the next day.

At dawn the following morning, Lucius gathered all the nobles and vassals. With his own hands, he dragged Filbert Vander to the center of the room.

Gripping Filbert by the hair and subduing him with a swift kick, Lucius silenced any resistance. When he stabbed Filbert’s son in the leg to stop him from intervening, the boy’s scream echoed briefly before the room fell into a deathly silence.

For the first time, Lucius smiled as he wiped the blood from his cheek.

“Finally, some peace and quiet. I couldn’t stand the noise any longer.”

It was in that moment that the pampered nobles realized they were truly prisoners. Filbert Vander, a man who still held some sense of honor, only asked that Lucius spare the lives of his wife and son in exchange for his own.

Lucius nodded willingly, his reply disturbingly soft.

“Of course. As soon as your head falls, I’ll make sure your son sees a doctor.”

But even in the pain of his wound, Filbert Vander’s son screamed again and lunged forward. In the end, another knight struck him, this time wounding his arm.

Two knights pinned the boy’s head to the ground. As Vander’s son and wife began to weep, Lucius found the irony of his situation amusing and allowed himself a brief smile. While he had orchestrated this scene for dramatic effect, everything felt surreal, as though it were part of a play.

Then there were those eyes.

The pale gray eyes, so similar to Deatrice’s, gnawed at Lucius’s nerves. Filbert Vander, as if finally accepting his fate, slowly closed his eyes.

Lucius thought.

He had to raise his sword and strike down.

Only by doing so could he sever the lingering emotions that plagued him. Once he struck, the bond between him and Deatrice would be severed. Starting with this man, Lucius would exact a cruel and perfect revenge.

The world, and even Deatrice, had told him to do so. So why should he resist?

Just as Lucius was about to strike down Filbert Vander, a knight intervened, knocking the sword from his hand.

“What is this?”

Lucius frowned and turned to the knight, who bowed deeply and whispered briefly in his ear.

“The Duke has arrived. He’s alone, without knights or guards.”

Lucius lowered his sword.

He glanced around at the terrified, trembling people, then nodded curtly, ordering them all to be locked up before going to meet the Duke.

As he walked away, his retreating figure showed no hesitation, as if he had expected this outcome all along.

“Are you sure about this?”

The knight who had delivered the message stopped Lucius before he entered the room where the Duke waited and asked.

To others, Lucius looked ready to thrust the sword he held straight into the Duke’s chest the moment they met.

But in truth, Lucius harbored no resentment toward the Duke. Perhaps a faint contempt, but nothing more. The Duke had never held any real significance for him, neither six years ago nor now.

Lucius chuckled lightly, patted the knight on the shoulder, and entered the room. The Duke sat there, upright and dignified, leaning on his cane with his left hand. He offered no greeting.

Lucius had never expected anything from the Duke, so he wasn’t disappointed. He sat down in front of the Duke with a relaxed demeanor. As soon as he did, the Duke voiced his displeasure.

“Was all this really necessary?”

Lucius smiled and replied, “To show you that there was no reason not to.”

“To show that your feelings for Deatrice are over?”

“Perhaps.”

Lucius gave a vague nod.