If You Love Someone

Chapter 2

He was standing behind the accused's pulpit in front of a dozen stony-faced councilmen. They all surveyed him critically, taking in his dirty and torn prisoner's clothing. His face remained blank as his eyes stared at a spot just over the main councilor's head. Another folded his hands as he started talking.

"Lord Cael Brittanus, you have been brought before this council accused of the Spiritual and physical murder of twenty-five people - all of whom were under your employ as household servants - as well as the physical harm of four villagers resulting in their Spiritual weakness. How do you plead?"

He made eye contact with the speaker, seeing the fear in his steel orbs, feeding on the fear.

"I've told you bastards a thousand times, I never killed anybody! For you to bring me - a Lord! - to captivity under such grievous false pretenses is extremely insolent and is a questioning of my upstanding moral character that any of my colleagues can attest to! I demand you set me free this instant before I have you all arrested for treason!"

The man's eyes hardened, with no trepidation lingering in them. "Lord Brittanus, please calm yourself. I am going to ask you again - how do you plead?"

"Not guilty, you imbecile!" he spat through gritted teeth. His eyes shot poisoned arrows directly into the councilor's head as he was escorted to his holding cell for the duration of the trial.

"Very well. Let us proceed," another man recited with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Then came the testimonies from various people who had been in his life before the catastrophe. Each had been asked questions and all answered truthfully, lest they be caught on the pain of death. There were hundreds of them, but he only caught little snippets as he glared holes into the front wall of his chamber.

"I had heard wonderful stories from others who had worked for him..."

"...was quite pleasant when I met him..."

"...always had these small headaches..."

"...a servant accidently dropped his deceased mother's Spirit vial..."

"...Spirits were flying every which way..."

"...never seen Lord Brittanus so mad..."

"...the first time he ever killed a servant..."

"...migraines became worse after that day..."

"...started only coming out at night..."

"...a servant went in and shut the door, only a dead body would come out."

He only brought his attention back to the witnesses when the council called up the person who had made this whole damn mess public.

OoOoOoO

His name was Stefan LeCroix. He had been an old classmate, though they were never friends; social enemies would have been a better label for the relationship they maintained. Stefan was conceited and had always tried to one-up Cael, though he had never succeeded. Brittanus was better off financially, physically and socially. He wasn't gloating; it was just fact - pure, simple fact. Everyone in their social circle silently acknowledged it and that was the reason all the young eligible women chose to attend his events over Stefan's.

It had been one of his worst days when Le Croix had come calling. Complaining of a very violent migraine, Cael had excused himself from the breakfast table he shared with his servants. It was usually light-hearted and filled with laughter but now there was an air of deathly fear and submission. His rooms were dark, even in midday. The curtains were drawn and the candles snuffed, letting him close his eyes and try to alleviate the throbbing occurring behind his skull.

He had heard the bell ring to signal the arrival of a guest. He had heard the pattering of his head maid's feet as she scurried to answer the front doors. But then there was an unexpected sound - the clatter of a multitude of hooves on his large gravel path, then the crunch-crunch of boots. There were going to be more than one visitor? Strange. His household only received a visitor every couple months, if that. He wasn't a social person even though he was required to attend the King's various balls and such. The estate was quite out of the way as well, no one truly came to this side of the country unless they were visiting him, so there was no possibility that they were lost. His connections were tenuous at best, most for political reasons. Family was non-existent - no siblings, parents dead - though he thought he still had a great-great aunt living on the other side of the empire.

Brittanus uncovered his eyes and stared at the ceiling while preparing himself to get up and welcome the unexpected travelers to his manor. He stood up, stretching to mobilize his bones. They had been in the same position for most of the night, so they creaked and cracked like he was a man almost five times his age. He began to step unsteadily to his chamber's large double doors.

Bam!

He went flying backwards, hitting his head violently on the leg of a large winged chair. His vision swam and so he didn't notice the group of men in his doorway, silhouetted with the light from the hallway candles - it gave them a menacing presence with swirls of orange punctuated with nightly shades of grey and blue. As his vision cleared, Cael was able to make out one definite and familiar individual who stood as the leader - Stefan.

He propped himself up on his elbow before snapping, "What is the meaning of this, LeCroix? You are trespassing on private property!"

Stefan smirked smugly at him and took a couple of steps into his chambers. He stopped, picking up a delicate statuette depicting a delicate young girl peering out from behind a tree from his desk. It was the only feminine object in his possession - it had belonged to his mother and when she died, it was the only he saved from being destroyed in the funeral pyre. Stefan saw him watching it in his hands and his smirk grew bigger. Lifting it, he threw it cruelly on the ground. Cael winced as he heard it shatter.

"Aw, is the monster sad that his little girly broke?"