A Fathers Wrath

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“This is unfortunate.  Very, very, unfortunate.”  Is all the one called the “Clever Count” can manage after the “Beast” stormed out.  “Lord General.  He may be lost to us.”

Marquis Lianlaf speaks through grinding teeth.

“I know.  By the pit.  She's left us quite the mess.”  The ageing commander starts massaging his forehead.  “She could certainly have picked a better time to fall apart.”

While it didn't matter before?  It certainly matters now since it might trigger more incidents.

“I may be to blame for this, my lord.”  Earns Count Werclair an interrogating look from the Marquis.  “Baron Futterel is a member of the Flower Society and is rumored to be the one who plucked Princess Avalina.”

The fact that the baron is looking at the unconscious slave with far more hate than anyone else?  Lends even more weight to the rumor.

“Damn perverts.  They'll be the death of the kingdom one day.”  The veteran commander loudly sighs.  “I want the baron and any other troublemakers on their way back east before the sun sets.”  Count Werclair nods.  “As it stands now?  We will be lucky if he just refuses to fight.  He might join the demons just to spite us.”

Petrus checks on the slave with his monocle.  “Slave,” because after that confession he'll never be able to call her “Oracle” again.  His monocle is a magic item with different settings.

Right now it's set to “health” and shades her body mostly green.  However, the left side of her face is red with parts even purple.  The left eye is ruined and she's missing a couple of teeth.  But the brain and heart are green so she should live.

He turns off the monocle as one of the soldiers specialized in healing begins treating her.  It has to be a guardsman because the priests are refusing to treat the Beast and his slaves until the holy sword is returned.  Viridia has walked over to Avalina, knelt down, and is quietly crying.

The behavior of slaves reflects on their master.  By any measure, those two have gravely dishonored him.  One for publicly admitting her crime.  The other for doing nothing to stop the crime nor the public confession.  Costing their master authority, dignity, and respectability, in the eyes of everyone else here.

Jon Barton is now considered a fool by many of the nobles in this room and the tale of an incapable master will spread.  He would be well within his rights, both legal and social, to sell, kill, or even abandon them.

The surrounding nobles become noisier and noisier as questions, answers, and opinions fly back and forth.  Not even the new Duke Airnett seems to care at all about the slave's condition, or fate.  Even though he is clearly the one she betrayed her master for.

“What a pitiful girl.”  The count muses.

The Lord General has moved to massaging his nose.

“Did you notice?”

“About his aura?”  Replies the count.

The Marquis sighs.

“Yes.  It disappeared.  Not masked.  Not hidden.  Just, gone.”  The Lord General shudders for the first time in years.  “No intent.  No anger.  Just, death.  What a monster.”  He goes back to rubbing his eyes.  “So, what can we do about this vengeful father stolen from another world?”

“While he is a father in his world?”  Something occurs to the “Clever Count.”  “He is a child in this one.  And to help children reach their potential?  We send them to school.  Maybe what he really needs is not battle, but education.”

The Marquis looks again at the entrance the Beast walked out of and begins scratching his stubbly chin.

“Interesting.”