Morvain devoured a plateful of delicious food that night, eating as if he had been hungry for the past five days. Even as he tore the bread and dipped it in hot sauce, his thoughts lingered on his earlier confrontation with Lady Lumiere.
He couldn't comprehend why he said what he did. It was uncharacteristic of him to insult someone without reason. Equally perplexing was her response – her accusations cutting deep into unknown territories of his emotions. Morvain, usually adept at understanding humans, found himself questioning his own actions and motives.
'I was provoked, right?'
The idea lingered in Morvain's mind. He couldn't deny that Lady Lumiere's words had indeed provoked a reaction from him. But why? Why would her words affect him in a way he was not used to?
'Perhaps I'm indeed afraid.'
Morvain chuckled at the thought.
'I was afraid of losing Lavender to Eldric.'
'No. No. Absolutely not. Not now. Lavender is mine now. There's nothing new about it.'
Even as he contemplated, a part of Morvain knew that Lavender could easily be swayed by the charm of someone tall and handsome enough. In a moment, she might forget Eldric and the grief, running straight into the arms of another.
His hand halted, the hot sauce slowly dripping onto the table. After a moment, he smiled, aware that if such a scenario unfolded, there would be another Eldric lying six feet under. The dark edge of Morvain's thoughts hinted at the lengths he might go to protect what he considered his own.
...
That night, Morvain held a secret meeting with Ron, instructing him to do the same thing the next morning – to lead a protest and make the highborns tremble in fear of the power of the lowborns.
Ron was skeptical at first, expressing concern about putting his son's life at risk. However, Morvain reassured him strongly, convincing the old man to agree and carry out his instructions. The weight of Morvain's determination left Ron with little choice but to comply.
The next morning, Morvain sprang out of bed early, eager to witness the anticipated chaos on the deck. As expected, the protesters swarmed, and the highborns found themselves trapped in a sea of discontent. Lord Emberfall, true to form, reached new levels of fury. In a fit of frustration, he even tossed a poor peasant into the sea, sending shockwaves through the outraged crowd.
The ensuing pandemonium required the intervention of armed soldiers and knights to quell the masses. Morvain, hidden in the shadows, couldn't help but revel in the spectacle. The young lord's tantrums, furious stomping, and a colorful stream of curses and shouts provided an entertaining distraction for Morvain's own clandestine activities.
"Release our heroes!" The chants echoed again.
"Release our heroes!"
"Release our heroes!"
"Release our--"
"Shut up, you rats!" Lord Emberfall's scream pierced the air. "Stop shouting like the low-life rats you are, or else I'll kill you all. You hear me?!" The threat hung in the air, but it only fueled the fervor of the protesters.
Morvain observed Rowen, the advisor for High Lord Ravencore, nervously dabbing sweat from his forehead. Suddenly, Rowen turned around, locking eyes with Morvain with a peculiar expression, as if he suspected Morvain's involvement in the chaos.
Feeling the weight of Rowen's gaze, Morvain swiftly averted his eyes and slipped away from the scene, leaving behind the lingering suspicion in the air.
The ship was enveloped in a thick, stifling silence, as if a full-blown war was on the brink of erupting on board. Morvain could practically taste the tension in the air, a palpable force that seemed to hang heavy over everyone aboard.
As he navigated through the ship, Morvain couldn't help but notice the hostile glares exchanged between the highborns and the lowborns, each side poised to strike at any moment. It was a volatile atmosphere, teetering on the edge of chaos, and Morvain found himself relishing in the anticipation of what was to come.
Seeking solace from the impending storm, Morvain made his way to the deck and settled in, immersing himself in the serene expanse of the open sea. He scanned the horizon, watching the waters ebb and flow beneath him, the clouds drifting lazily overhead, and the vast blue sky stretching out endlessly before him.
Despite the turmoil brewing below deck, Morvain found a sense of calm amidst the chaos, though he couldn't shake the nagging desire to seek out Lady Lumiere, a presence conspicuously absent during the earlier commotion.
...
Under the cloak of night, Morvain returned to the same shadowy rendezvous point where he had met Ron the night before. The desire for the ship to dock and his plans to kick into high gear gnawed at him, but an unavoidable detour loomed ahead – a mandatory stop on a small island for ship repairs, delaying his agenda by a frustrating five days.
A heavy sigh escaped Morvain's lips, and he shook his head in disbelief, as if hoping to dispel the irritation that clung to him. The prospect of yet another delay tested his patience, and he couldn't help but yearn for the swift resolution of the impending challenges.
"Son."
A voice echoed from behind, causing Morvain to turn around and be met by the presence of the old man.
"Ron...you're early."
"Well, I thought whatever you have to say would be important, and I don't want to make you wait for an old nobody like me."
Ron stepped forward, standing beside Morvain. Despite the passage of time, the old man still carried the same air about him that Morvain had noticed since their first meeting. Perhaps a bit leaner, a touch more weathered, but the essence of the man remained unchanged – a living evidence to the weight of his experiences.
"So, son, what is it that you want to talk about? Is it something regarding Rony?"
Morvain gazed at the man, taking in the hope etched on his face, the weariness etched on his features. A twinge of sympathy tugged at Morvain, but he knew that sympathy alone wouldn't dismantle the oppressive class system or bring the highborns to their knees.
"Yes, it is something regarding Rony," Morvain replied, leaning onto the railing, captivated by the serene melody of the silent sea.
"Is he going to be released?" The old man's face lit up with hope. "Did our protest work?"
Morvain side-eyed him, gesturing for Ron to come closer, to stand beside him. Ron hesitantly approached and leaned onto the railing, awaiting Morvain's response with a mix of anticipation and anxiety.
"The truth is," Morvain began, "Rony is going to be killed."
"What?!" Ron's eyes widened in shock, and horror etched lines on his wrinkled face. "W-w-what do you mean, son? Why is he going to be killed? D-d-did Lord Emberfall say something?" Tears welled up in Ron's eyes. "P-p-please, son, I beg of you, please don't let my son die. I'll do anything. Anything. I'll even give my life for him." The desperation in Ron's plea echoed through the night.
"You will?" Morvain turned to look at him, his eyes indifferent and cold.
"Y-yes. Anything for my boy. He's the only one I have left in this world."
Morvain smiled, a chilling expression that sent shivers down Ron's spine. As Morvain reached out to stroke Ron's white and aging hair, an eerie coldness settled over the old man, colder than the night itself.
"Why?" Morvain asked, his tone cutting through the air. "Why waste your life for a boy who's not even yours, Ron?"