The wind howled and whistled as night fell, throwing its eerie shadow across the ship. The moon, partly hidden by clouds, gave off only a dim glow. The deck, though, had a faint light from the lanterns, casting an orange hue.
Morvain had left the prison, staying true to his promise to the knights by refraining from any attempt to break them out.
Ron's lifeless form was carefully brought up to the top deck, the sorrow hanging in the air. The decision was made to give him a sea burial that night, a ritual led by his grieving son.
It wasn't a secret that something significant was looming tonight. Both highborns and lowborns could sense it in the air. Even the ship's crew was on high alert, safeguarding crucial supplies necessary for the ship that couldn't afford any damage.
Tomorrow, the ship was scheduled to dock on the island for maintenance and repairs, but tonight held a sense of urgency and importance.
The ship was eerily silent, the tension hanging over it like a poisonous fog, creeping into every corner. Everyone aboard was on edge, the anticipation palpable.
Morvain made his way towards the deck where Ron's body lay. He stood there, silently watching the waves crash against the ship, lost in his own thoughts amidst the stillness of the sea.
Lowborns walked solemnly past him, offering a respectful nod in acknowledgment. Meanwhile, most of the highborns remained confined to their rooms, wary of the risk of encountering a lowborn who might pose a threat to their safety. The tension between the two classes lingered in the air like an unspoken truth.
The rhythmic footsteps echoed through the ship, deliberate and confident, drawing the attention of those aboard. Murmurs swirled like a quiet storm as curious eyes fixated on the approaching figure.
Morvain remained facing the sea, not bothering to turn around. He could sense her presence; he knew who it was.
"Will the ship survive tomorrow morning?" she inquired, leaning on the rail beside him.
"Should be," Morvain answered.
She didn't speak for a while, her gaze fixed on the waves crashing against the ship.
"You're planning something, aren't you?" she asked.
"Everyone's planning something, my lady. It's a matter of who did it first," Morvain replied.
She chuckled, "Sounds like you're fully prepared for a war, Lord Eldric."
"War is a big word, Lady Lumiere," he turned towards her. "This is more like retaliation."
"Retaliation?" she raised an eyebrow. "Retaliation for what?"
"For the death of Rony, of course," Morvain stated firmly.
"The one you drove to suicide, huh?" She smirked, and Morvain felt a chill run through his body. "I've seen it, Lord Eldric. Yesterday night, you spoke with this poor man and convinced him to end his own life. If the commoners were to know that you were the reason he took his own life, what do you think would happen? Hmmm?" she taunted.
Morvain chuckled, trying to mask his unease. "You're accusing me now, my lady?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't I?" She smiled, her eyes glinting with a hint of malice.
Morvain turned towards her, his gaze intense. "What do you think will happen? A lord, once trusted by the lowborns and hailed as their hero, now revealed to be the perpetrator behind the death of an innocent father. What do you think will happen?"
Lady Lumiere gritted her teeth, the weight of Morvain's implication settling heavily upon her. The ship was already teetering on the brink of war, with whispers circulating about the involvement of one of the lords.
If the truth were to emerge — that a lord had been hiding among the commoners, gaining their trust, and manipulating them — it would be a recipe for chaos and disaster. The fragile balance they were maintaining would crumble, and the consequences could be catastrophic.
"But why? Why did you kill him?" she turned towards him.
Morvain shrugged, "I guess you haven't heard the full story, have you?"
"Not completely, no," she admitted. She had only heard bits and pieces of the conversation.
"About Rony?"
She nodded, signaling that she was aware of the mention of Rony but lacked the complete context.
"What do you think will happen if he were to know that he's a bastard son of a Highlord?" Morvain's words hung heavy in the air, causing Lady Lumiere's breath to hitch as she stared at him. Her mind raced as she pieced together the implications of his statement.
"You're planning to put him on the Highseat?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"You were always smarter, my lady," Morvain chuckled, a hint of admiration in his tone for her quick understanding.
"You think you can just make a bastard son the heir just because you want? He can't. The people won't accept him and the highlords will never accept him," Lumiere protested.
"Why not? Think about it for a moment. Who would be more deserving to be a ruler? A purebred arrogant and narcissistic man-boy or a boy who has both the blood of nobility and commoners, who's raised properly and knows humility, kindness, and the importance of hard work?" Morvain countered.
Lumiere gritted her teeth, unable to find a quick response to Morvain's compelling argument.
"And also a boy who has the backing of the lowborns. You see, Lady Lumiere, the people's power is not to be underestimated. The lowborns will choose their future Highlord if pushed. And we both know who the people's hero is," Morvain grinned confidently.
"You can't do it, Lord Eldric," Lumiere gritted her teeth. "You won't."
Morvain chuckled, his confidence unwavering. "Try me, Lady Lumiere. Just try me. After all, in this game of thrones, I plan to play my own hand.""
"This is treason, Eldric. You're conspiring against the Crown, and that too on a ship full of witnesses," Lumiere tried to threaten him.
"True. True. Perhaps I should've conspired with other lords to overthrow the Crown itself rather than a pesky Highlord, right?" Morvain responded with a sly grin, his words carrying a mix of sarcasm and defiance.