Untouched (Untouched #1)(Old Work)

Chapter Seventeen

The atmosphere inside the compound was in a state of confusion and chaos. Did Hans really kill someone and take on a role as a double agent to the Necromancers?

The news of the upcoming trial of the infamous Master Grey had spread like wildfire, like fire taking to dry grass. Since the breaking of the news, peaceful protests had taken place outside of the trial room and Claudia had been inundated with countless letters or disapproval and personal testimonies of Hans as a person. Although Claudia was unable to comment on the situation at hand, Hans had thanked everyone for the support they offered and that he would go to trial without appealing the initial summon. He, just like any other Tempusmancer, was bound by the same law and he expected to go through the same process to determine the truth.

He had nothing to hide.

No one expected lesser nobility from him and the crowd erupted in applause.

There was only one person within the manor that seemed to be bursting with happiness and his words were heard echoing with enthusiasm in the dining room on the morning of the trial. Breakfast was served earlier than usual to cater for those attending the trial and the buffet was freshly stocked with the breakfast selections. Most had filled their plates with little food, unable to eat, and had already returned to their chairs. Ellen was too focused on pushing the eggs and bacon around her plate, trying to comprehend the flurry of events, and blocked out the wining voice. Whilst everyone else sat in solemn silence, a tribute for Hans, Dvorak was pompously voicing his 'humble' opinion that they would finally establish who the real Hans was and see beyond his façade, and this was karma for incriminating him previously. He also added that he hoped the Seek would need to be employed. There was a collective murmur as everyone showed their disapproval; a murmur which stopped when one of the female Tempusmancers had let the best get of her, rose from her seat and slapped Dvorak across the face.

"You dog," she screeched, pointing her finger into his chest. Each jab was stronger than the last, and pushed the man backwards. "You are an abomination. This is a time of need and yet, here you are finding solace in someone else's pain! Have you no shame!"

Someone on the other side of the room had put their hands together, clapping slowly. One by one, the others in the room followed suit, many laughing at the stubby man who now kept his head down so no one could see his cheek which was red and stinging, and also swollen to almost double its size. The sound of a hundred hands clapping was thunderous and music to Ellen's ears. It was the second time Ellen had witnessed him being humiliated and he deserved it. It also gave 'we are one' a new meaning. She was proud of the cohesion – the way everyone came together – in the face of difficulty and to protect one of their own. She was also thankful that she was no longer regarded as an outcast and had been invited to join members of Hans' clan for meals. She was no longer alone.

"You've hardly touched your meal," the woman next to told Ellen kindly. The woman was regarded as somewhat of the grandmother of the clan. Although it was an unspoken rule to never ask ages, the general consensus agreed that she was at least two hundred years old. This was established off the comparison to others and their recollections of who they had observed in the manor during their time.

"I'm not hungry. I can't eat," she replied dully, stabbing the bacon with her fork before laying it down on the side of her plate.

"Nonsense, nothing to worry about," one of the others spoke. He had a thick accent to his words and twirling his fork so much that he nearly impaled his neighbour onto it.

"Oi! Watch where you're pointing that thing, would you? Lethal, even with a fork! My word, they really have dropped their standards to let you in, didn't they? You'd think they'd make you master forks before they give you the incantation." The table erupted in laughter as the neighbour poked his tongue to the side in his cheek and held up his arms as if to surrender.