Chapter 81: The String Never Lies

Slam!

Grand Chamberlain Hershant’s fist came down on the table so hard the water jug jumped.

"This is too far, Your Majesty! He is a prince of this realm, not a common thief!"

King Aldrius had already sat back down on his throne and firmly crossed his arms, looking down at them all.

"My mind is made up."

Then he went quiet, and the worrisome thoughts he’d been holding back crept in.

’That bastard thinks he can flirt with my wife right in front of me and walk away? I’m no cuck. I won’t have such nonsense happen in my own court!’

...Though.

He glanced to the side, where Minerva was standing.

’Maybe wanting the boy dead is a bit much? What if my darling Claire wants to kill me now? She does love the bastard and she’s my sweet, little angel...’

His forehead began to sweat.

The throne room had turned into a beehive. Nobles muttered behind their sleeves, and Count Vesta grinned so wide he was nearly salivating. In his head, the Fifth Prince’s precious head was already rolling across the floor.

That thought, in that moment, was his greatest joy.

Bam! Bam! Bam! Adonis slapped the table a few times like he was calling a waiter.

"Can we start already?"

The hall fell silent.

Not out of respect, rather well-earned confusion. A prince was facing his own execution, and he looked like he’d come for lunch, nobody could make sense of such.

Minerva whipped her hair over her shoulder and leaned in for a better look at the young man.

The thin red thread pulsed between their chests.

"Alright. State your name."

"The people call me Adonis Falsbane. So, that."

The thread stayed calm.

"Hair color."

"Blonde. Or gold, whichever."

The thread was calm again, but she’s still monitoring it.

"Now tell me a lie."

"A lie, huh..."

Adonis tilted his head left, then right, mumbling to himself.

"Huuu, what’s a good lie... Oh. Maybe like, I’m so handsome even the gods are in love with me."

The thread stayed calm to an extent.

...Eh? He blinked at his own chest. It was obviously a lie, a very rude one at that, and nothing happened.

Minerva gave him a stern look. "We don’t have all day."

"Dragons are native to Falsbane."

...Zzzt! "Ow."

Satisfied, the Fourth Queen sat on the edge of the table and crossed her curvy thighs.

"Alright. The main question. Count Vesta accuses you of creating a false identity, Baron Korvan Thale, and using it for money laundering, shill bidding, and stealing state secrets. Through this identity, you, a member of the peerage, also sent two years’ worth of seasonings to Rensfell, an institution siding with the Church. Is any of this true?"

Even as she asked, her chest was thumping with fear.

She couldn’t convince herself it wasn’t him. It made too much sense; the golden fairy soil he’d worked so hard to inflate, the mountain of salt he somehow bought, and the funding for the strange devices he kept building.

Worse, she couldn’t help him now. Not because she didn’t want to, or out of fear of the King, but because the string never lies, no matter what the user wants.

...It was the one virtuous trait a blood witch had.

The Fifth Prince must say the truth, and nothing but that.

Naturally, he smiled with a impertinent shrug.

"I have no idea about any of that."

The string did nothing... it was undeniably lifeless.

The throne room went wide-eyed and so did the King who trembled in his throne.

Godfrey leaned forward with a face full of anger yet there was heavy relief in his heart.

’You always have a plan, don’t you... brother.’

Another man was relieved too, and it wasn’t Minerva. Not that she wasn’t. But Old Hershant looked so relieved he was nearly smiling, and he had to cover his mouth with a fist to hide it.

Minerva raised a hand for silence.

"Do you know anyone connected to this?"

"Like I said, I have no idea about any of this."

The string did nothing.

That was where Count Vesta reached his breaking point.

"Impossible!"

He charged to the center of the room, almost falling, and shoved his face toward Adonis’s.

"You took it! I know you took it! Why are you playing dumb?! Lena from the Archives can testify right now that you came asking about the archives! And Father Rill would never lie! He said the seasonings reached them through you! So say the truth!"

Spit flew with every word, yet Adonis stayed calm, hands still under the table.

"Gee. I’d love to throw my life away to satisfy you, I really would. But I have nothing to do with those seasonings. And I’m not too keen on losing this face, yunno."

He smiled offhandedly.

The room was quiet for a moment, then somebody snorted merely out of comedy.

The situation is funny after all.

"He dragged the Fifth Prince here for this?"

"No proof at all. And he made it sound like it was settled."

"How utterly embarrassing..."

Count Vesta felt every glance on his skin.

They landed in every witch way and moreso, they stung.

This is a nobleman who hated being made a fool of. Once, at a public banquet, one of his wives refused to pour him wine in front of his guests and they laughed at him.

...He had her executed within the week.

And now an entire hall was laughing at him, and there wasn’t a single person he could execute.

His shoulders trembled and his fists shook.

A body like an earthquake and a head boiling like a volcano is how you would describe his frustration.

Adonis stood from his chair and stretched, Minerva rushed over before he’d finished, grabbing both his hands.

"Are you okay? Did it hurt?"

"I’m fine, really."

He smiled at her, but she didn’t let go.

BAM! King Aldrius smashed his fist on the armrest. The noise was meant for the whole room, but mostly it was meant to make those two jump apart and they did.

"Enough! It seems we have our answer. Since Count Vesta has no proof to support his accusation against the Fifth Prince, he will pay compensation in gold—"

A hand went up, surprisingly it wasn’t Vesta’s, the man was too busy drowning in disgrace and thinking of ways to nurse these wounds caused by embarrassment.

...It was actually Adonis, the ever-smiling prince.

"Rather than gold, I’d like one of the Count’s trade routes. I think I deserve that much after what I’ve been through, and it seems he has enough to go around, yes?"

The throne room burst out laughing.

"What a foolish request!"

"They’d never give it to him!"

"Even the Second Prince asked for something like that once, and he was turned away!"

Adonis walked to the center of the hall, lifting his hands.

"Well, Cassius isn’t engaged to both the Lady of Soron and the Princess of the Marsofian Union. Maybe when he is, he can get a trade route of his own."

The laughter stopped.

...It was a fair point. Prince Cassius was who he was, and the Second Queen was frankly terrifying. But the one with the brightest future in this room was standing in front of them with a toothpick in his pocket.

The nobles shut up and thought, how funny...

King Aldrius sighed, long and gruff.

"Fine. You will have the White Road of salt and spices."

Thud. Vesta felt a cold hand close around his heart.

This is the sort of looming fear every man will feel when they understand their death has happened before it happened. Or when they finally realize they’d walked into an invisible trap.

Salt... Spices... Seasonings...

His eyes slowly lifted to Adonis, who was scratching his cheek like he’d just woken up.

"You... you did this on purpose..."

His defeated voice broke at each syllable .

"All of it. All of this was you. No one else but you, wasn’t it? What kind of... kind of monster... are you? This was your plan from the start! My family has ruled that route for three generations and you took it in a single night?! You bastard!"

He lunged at the prince and in one order the King had his guards pin the count to the floor.

Adonis raised a hand like a schoolboy.

"Err, I really don’t know anything."

Vesta’s eyes were red as tears rolled down his cheeks, far more than a man should be able to cry.

...Hm? Minerva frowned.

Something dark was dripping from the Adonis’s finger.

Blood?