The Lycan King's Puppet

He sat in the council chamber as he waited for each member to arrive.

Plumette was the first time enter, probably because he was hoping for a private audience with him.

And Yeren was in no mood to oblige him.

"Your Grace. I expected you to grace the room last."

True to his words, Yeren never arrived at any meeting before his subordinates.

But this time, he wanted to unsettled them, rattle them even. He didn’t want to give them any time or space to compose themselves. And he did it so they would be flustered when he cornered them.

"Sit down and hold your peace till the others arrived."

Lord Plumette’s smile died on the spot. In its place was something that resembled a smile, but never quite hit the mark.

Tense silence settled afterwards.

He was aware of the presence of his guards as his fingers fiddled absently with a quill.

Lord Bronan surprised him by gracing the chamber second. He had expected him to arrive last since he had just left, and the Bronan Residence was far north of the castle.

Rodick entered the room, his face pale and his hands trembling as he pulled his seat away from the table and settled into it.

He muttered a ghost of a greeting before casting his gaze to the polished surface of the table.

Yeren barely spared him more than a passing glance.

The next to enter was Falstaff. He noticed that each time a person entered the room, his gaze flew to the door... but then his countenance would change the moment he saw who it was.

And none of them were who he was quietly expecting.

His grip on the goblet tightened.

He made her cry - he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

There was no turning back from that. His guards confirmed that she’d cried after she left.

Because of him.

Why didn’t he just tell her that the poems he wrote were about her?

But he also couldn’t stand the thought of being so vulnerable around her ... those were his very private thoughts - things he never shared with anyone.

Redmare entered finally, then Andon followed a few minutes after.

Still no sign of his peach-coloured crying lady.

She had looked pretty in the dress, he quietly acknowledged, even though he had admired her in another man’s arms.

"Shall we begin?" Lord Falstaff said, struggling to keep the impatience out of his voice as he spoke, his eyes glued to the table.

Yeren glanced inside his untouched cup, suddenly realising that he wasn’t alone in the room.

He set the goblet down and cleared his throat.

"Yes." He produced the parchment that had summoned the meeting.

Andon stood by the door, as if he was afraid to come too close.

Plumette kept casting snide glances at him over his shoulder, a permanent scowl on his features.

The parchment was passed round as everyone assessed it. When it reached Redmare’s hands, there was a very long pause.

"What am I looking at?" He asked.

His tone was bored, almost insulting. Gasps passed through the table.

Yeren pressed his jaw against his clasped hands and watched them.

"Does the amount of coin thrown into the project not appear out of the ordinary to you?"

Redmare set the parchment down and raised a brow.

"Do you think it is less than it ought to be?"

Lord Bronan reached for the paper and looked at it closely.

"Is this a formal inventory. My last account cost half of this sum at most."

"When was your last account? A year ago, I presume." Redmare shot back.

Bronan leaned back against his chair.

"My accounts may have been taken a year ago, but I do not believe for a single second that the prices if bricks would double in such a little time. My men purchased bricks recently and have never provided such exaggerated reports before."

Redmare’s calm expression soured.

"Are you accusing me of theft?"

Rodick’s head bent even lower, as if he wanted to sink into the table and never resurface.

Falstaff collected it from Aldrich and squinted his eyes as he surveyed it again.

"I have to agree with Lord Bronan." His tone was clipped, his eyes avoiding Redmare’s.

The parchment finally returned to Yeren, so did all their gazes.

They were waiting for him to speak, because his silence seemed to have more weight than all of their voices combined.

He remained silent.

Yeren was certain that there were certain discrepancies in the inventory he held, but he needed proof before any action was taken.

Normally, he would have investigated privately, but Redmare was probably expecting him to do so - not accuse him outright without any proof. And he was banking on being unpredictable - mostly because Redmare and his cohorts would expose themselves by trying to cover their tracks.

"Action on the matter will be adjourned for now as-".

The large double doors swung open and she entered the room.

Her eyes were dull green, her gloved hands clasped as she sauntered to the decanter by default.

She stopped the moment she realized he already had a goblet before him.

All eyes rested on her as she just stood there.

Slowly, she moved to stand by his side.

And something restless in him calmed immediately. She had come, she had finally come.

Andon was watching her as well, quiet through the whole thing.

"Adjourned until when?" Lord Bronan asked, his features perplexed.

"Indefinitely. In the meantime, I intend to journey to Town and have a look at the expensive construction underway myself. It seems that every eye in this room is crooked and perverted."

Rodick gulped.

He handed his goblet to the quiet woman beside him.

"Refill." He murmured, not bothering to look at her.

She attended to the task efficiently, her usual clumsy self nonexistent.

"I will leave soon, and I will be taking my first man with him until he faces his exile."

All of them blinked, turn by turn.