"...In conclusion, I think you might be losing the deed promised by Lord—your honor?" The young lad sitting beside the judge adjusted his spectacles and peered questioningly at the older man. The carriage was dark, and the road was rough and riddled with potholes. The journey overall was a difficult progression. His fingers curled around the parchment as lightning struck, illuminating a ghastly pale expression. The young man's eyes widened.
He had been studying under the honorable judge for months now, and after each case, the judge was always smug and ready to brag to the young lad about his ways, putting lowly women in their place with every case. This was the first time he had seen such pale features; he would have said it was because they lost the deed from Duke Magnus, but something about his expression was off. His face was ashen, frown lines potent, and a dark, wide-eyed look that stared into space as if he were facing a ghost. This was the face of a man fear-stricken to the core.
The judge had been quiet ever since they left the house of justice for their trip to one of the lesser regions for another case.
A rush of low mumbles was only shown by the movement of his grey mustache.
The young lad leaned in, his brows furrowed. "Sir?"
"The time is nigh..." he heard distinctively as the thunder rumbled above them.
"I'm afraid I don't understand—" The sudden neighing of horses over the pounding rain cut through the air and the exclamations of the coachman as the carriage swerved sharply with a rocky jerk. As he dived to protect the old man, for a moment, he saw his eyes closed, accepting their fate, and a faint whisper from his dry, cracked lips he read as "the devil..."
The young lad woke to searing pain at the back of his head, his ears ringing and vision blurry. The corner of his lips hurt.
The distinct sound of a door ripping open above them with force suddenly brought back the rushing sound of heavy rain, and he saw a dark-cloaked figure reach in and pull out the old man groaning beside him.
The alarm and wariness of the situation sent him shooting up, clutching his head.
"Wait, we have no money!" he grunted. "Just travelers. Take our possessions but leave him—"
Awareness of another presence prickled his skin, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Then he saw him. The figure emerged atop their upturned carriage and leisurely strolled towards them. His body instinctively tensed as if in the presence of a dark predator. His throat felt lodged, and he suddenly felt the instinct to back away and save himself.
He towered over the old man and bent to take him from the other man's grip.
A startling fearful cry wrenched from the old man as he tried to crawl backward but failed. "Run, lad! It's too late for me. T-the d... devil—the devil is here!"
The other accomplice turned to him and pinned him with a stare that sent him tumbling back. Demon. A flash of lightning revealed his eyes of the most unusual colors, like auroras and the Niveren Ocean rolled in one—deep and deadly.
His fearful gaze snapped to his mentor to hear a pained cry. The cloaked person with the build of an imposing man was clutching his grey, thinning beard and pushing back the old man's face to the assault of the rain.
"Remember me?" the masked man spoke, amusement dancing in his tone. The sound of his voice was dark and gravelly, grave like the thunder that rumbled around them.
He raised a spiked rod and, with brute force, stabbed it into the judge's thigh. The old man screamed in pain.
"I-I'm sorry... I didn't know she belonged—arghhhh!!" He twisted the spike.
"Shuuuuu..." their attacker breathed. He slowed to a whimper, taking in heavy breaths with rain.
His tears were washed by the rain, and the blood pooling in his cream trousers. The lad covered his gasp with shaky hands.
"What's the problem, your honor? You like games, don't you?" the cloaked masked man grinned menacingly.
"Luckily for you, I don't want to play games today." He raised the spike high, his target the wrinkled neck of the judge.
"You'll lose her!" The abrupt words spilled from his lips as a last-ditch effort, hence slowing the weapon a hair's breadth from his neck.
The man's blue eyes flashed as he raised a questioning brow.
"I-if y-you kill me, s-she'll be blamed—Ah, wait—"
"—just think of it. After the judgment passed on her, I suddenly die on my way to another hearing. She'll be blamed..." At the sign of the man brewing over the thought, the old man's confidence grew. The blue-eyed man's gaze flickered to his accomplice beside him. The other man shifted on his foot, his grip tightening on the box in his possession.
He chuckled more certainly. "She's already called the witch. They'll come for her. No hearing, just death." His gruff chuckle grew louder. The young lad shook his head, shocked that his mentor dared provoke the man whose grip still held strong to the menacing weapon.
"She'll be burnt at the stake like the witch she is!" He choked up blood and grinned.
His heart was beating fast, aware this might not work. The devil cared for no one.
"It's your choice—"
With a flash of anger on his features, Silas released his grip on the old man's coat.
The man attempted to sit up with a triumphant smile. "You made a—"
The next second, the viscount was in his face. A heartbeat later, a twist and startling, blinding pain wrenched a blood-curdling scream from his lips. His fearful gaze shifted to his hand, where the rod was jammed through the back of his hand.
Another scream sounded away from them. It was the young lad.
The judge turned slowly in fright to Silas to see his menacing gaze that made his body tremble.
"This..." Silas hissed through clenched teeth, "...hand you used to judge their fate shall be the beginning of your downfall."
Silas slowly withdrew the rod to more screams of pain and stood to his full height. With a belittling look down at the old man, his gaze slowly shifted to the lad.
The lad's whole body tensed, and with an embarrassing rush of warmth, he realized he had wet himself.
Instead of walking over to him, Silas raised one lean finger over his lips.
"Shuuu..." he grinned wide, his eyes curving to a dangerously disturbing expression before they turned and disappeared into the night.
With them long gone, the young man shakily crawled to the older man, who was moaning in pain.
The man coughed up blood as he looked up at the young lad's still fearful gaze.
"We..." he coughed and chuckled, "...might be the only people to meet the devil and live to tell the tale." He wheezed and coughed up more blood to the worried shouts of the young man, now in tears.