Chapter 64: Poking the wound
Musicians on the platform played a processional march.
Nobles filed out from the castle, taking their places on raised seating that had been arranged around the platform. They wore their finest clothes—men in tailcoats and high collars, women in elaborate gowns with bustles and trains.
Then came the religious officials, priests of the Holy Empire's dominant faith, wearing robes of white and gold. They carried ceremonial objects, a book bound in leather and silver.
And then, finally, the wedding party itself emerged.
Lord Caden Harrington came first, walking with confident strides.
He wore a coat of deep blue velvet embroidered with gold thread in patterns that probably told his family history to anyone educated enough to read them. His blonde hair had been perfectly styled, his face cleanly shaven. He looked every inch the noble lord, handsome and powerful and sure of his place in the world.
Behind him, escorted by older nobles who must have been family members, came Scarlett.
She wore the same dress from yesterday, that elaborate confection of white lace and silk that probably weighed as much as she did. Her hair was arranged in the same style, decorated with the same pearls and diamonds. Her makeup was flawless.
And her eyes were still empty. Still blank. She walked mechanically, one foot in front of the other, guided by the hands on her arms. She looked at nothing and no one, her face a beautiful mask with nothing behind it.
[Target Status: Updated]
[Magical Influence: Strong Compulsion Detected]
[Mental defenses compromised]
Jorghan's hands clenched at his sides. He forced himself to breathe slowly to maintain control. Not yet. Not yet. Wait for the right moment.
The couple took their positions at the center of the platform.
The priest began to speak, his voice magically amplified so that everyone in the crowd could hear him clearly. He spoke of duty and honor, of the joining of families and worlds, and of the new era that this marriage represented.
Jorghan barely heard the words.
His attention was on the assembled nobles, studying their faces, looking for...
And then he saw him.
Jamie Moorne stood among the Terrasperan delegation, wearing formal clothing that mixed Earth's modern style with Eadrogar's aesthetic.
He watched the platform with an expression that Jorghan couldn't quite read—pride, certainly, but something else too.
Jorghan's blood ran cold. His vision narrowed to a tunnel, focusing entirely on that familiar face. The face that had smiled at him while he was dying.
The face that haunted his nightmares.
[Bloodborne Rage: 67%]
[Warning: Emotional state critical]
Anger seeped into Jorghan's veins like poison, hot and consuming. The red tattoo on his neck began to burn, pulsing with each beat of his racing heart.
He was ready to move, ready to act, ready to—
And then another figure appeared, stepping forward from a different section of the assembled nobles.
Jorghan's eyes went wide.
His breath caught in his throat.
It was impossible. It couldn't be. But there was no mistaking that face, those features, that bearing.
Hawkin.
His father's brother, Hawkin—what was he doing here?
People were murmuring around him, telling him that he was Everett.
Everett? Jorghan was confused.
Did he change his name? Why?
Goddess be damned!
He didn't even imagine in the slightest possibility that both of his uncles would be marrying their children to each other.
Talk about a fucking crazy coincidence!
The shock was so profound that Jorghan's carefully maintained control shattered like glass.
The red tattoo on his neck blazed to life, glowing so brightly that it cast crimson light across his skin. Within his consciousness, the blood-red dot that was his system began to spin rapidly, responding to his emotional turmoil.
[Critical Alert: Host psychological state compromised]
[Bloodborne Rage: 84%]
[Warning: Mana Devouring Attribute activating involuntarily]
[Carnage Requiem: 89%]
But Jorghan couldn't hear the warnings. He couldn't process them. His mind was reeling, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.
Both uncles.
Bastards who took everything from him, his family, and his clan.
How fitting.
How perfectly, cruelly fitting.
The universe had a sick sense of humor.
Both men should have protected him, should have stood by him, and should have been family in the truest sense.
Jamie, who had orchestrated his death in his previous life.
Hawkin, who was the cause of his clan's demise.
Both here.
Both seemingly complicit in what was happening to Scarlett. Both standing by while an innocent girl was forced into marriage against her will.
The pressure began to build around Jorghan like an invisible storm.
It started as a subtle thing, barely noticeable. But it grew rapidly, expanding outward in waves that made the air itself feel heavy and oppressive.
People around him began to shift uncomfortably.
A woman nearby put a hand to her chest, breathing faster. A man turned to his companion, asking if he felt strange. Children started to cry without knowing why.
The pressure continued to build, radiating from Jorghan in pulses that matched the furious beating of his heart. It was his mana, his power, leaking out uncontrolled as his emotions overwhelmed his carefully maintained barriers.
The crowd around him became increasingly unsettled. People backed away, creating a circle of empty space with Jorghan at its center. Guards began to turn, looking for the source of the disturbance.
And Jorghan stood there, his hood fallen back, his face fully visible, his eyes locked on the two men who had defined so much of his pain.
The red tattoo on his neck pulsed like a second heart, and the air around him began to shimmer with barely contained power.
[Critical Warning: Host approaching Bloodborne Rage threshold]
[Carnage Requiem: 94%]
But Jorghan's shock wasn't finished.
The universe, it seemed, had one more knife to twist.
The murmur of the crowd changed, a wave of excitement rippling through the assembled masses.
Important guests were arriving, late but expected.
Guards at the castle entrance snapped to attention, creating a corridor through which the newcomers could pass.
Two figures emerged into the sunlight, walking with the confidence of those accustomed to deference and respect.
Jorghan's mind went into complete chaos.
It was her.