Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 218: The Muckraker.

Chapter 218: The Muckraker.

Dearest Critic,

*

As the end of the month approaches and the chill of winter lingers on the horizon, the noble circles are abuzz with events that are as tumultuous as they are intriguing. From the deepest forests to the grandest mansions, whispers of scandal and strife swirl through the air like autumn leaves.

The Battle Beneath the Trees

It is said that a hunting party, led by the venerable Lord Theodore, encountered far more than game in the dense, shadowy woods. While the noblemen sought to stockpile provisions for the coming winter, a sinister ambush awaited them. Dark forces, long believed to be mere legends, struck with ferocity. Those born without magic are now practising it and making hell out of it. The aftermath saw our gallant hunters return bruised and battered, their victories marred by wounds both physical and unseen. A tale as old as time, yet one must wonder what truly lurks in those ancient trees.

A King’s Concealment

At the recent burial of Miss Liza Statham, whispers spoke of a shadowy figure lurking in the periphery. King Salvadore himself, shrouded in secrecy, attended in disguise. His presence raises questions that beg for answers. What guilt does he carry, and why the need for such clandestine mourning? Rumors suggest a tumultuous relationship with the deceased, hinting at deeper royal intrigues and heartaches. They could not have known what killed her, could they?

A Family in Mourning

The Statham family, residing in their somber mansion, recently bid farewell to their beloved Liza. The ceremony was heavy with grief, and eyes were sharp with suspicion. Among those in attendance were the bereaved parents, a trio of sisters—Lydia, Mira, and Shi’Enz—each carrying their own burdens. Some speculate that Lady Mira may be with child, a beacon of hope amidst their sorrow. Yet, the season of joy is tainted by the shadow of loss but Liza just might come back as yet a first child, a first grandchild.

Noble Distrust

Distrust runs rampant among the royals, a festering wound hidden behind courtly smiles. Accusations fly like arrows in the dark, each one more damaging than the last. The coming winter, with its promises of harshness, seems a fitting backdrop for the coldness seeping into noble hearts. Alliances are questioned, loyalties tested, and the fabric of trust unravels with every passing day. This Rhuins brothers I wonder about.

Pillow Ponderings

In lighter news, Helena’s Haven, our local pillow emporium, has found an unlikely mascot in the form of a beggar woman turned town crier. As Helena’s business languished in the early hours, the clever shopkeeper enlisted the woman’s help to draw in customers. Now, the streets echo with calls of "luxurious comfort" and "soothing slumber." One must commend Helena for her ingenuity, though it does make one wonder about the state of our beloved town when pillows become a topic of public interest.

As the final days of the month tick by, we find ourselves on the cusp of winter’s embrace. The air is thick with anticipation, and the winds carry secrets yet to be revealed. In these cryptic times, dear readers, keep your ears open and your wits about you. For in every whisper lies a tale, and in every tale, a truth waiting to be uncovered.

*

Yours whispering,

Muckraker.

*

* *

*

A day later, Morning.

Theodore Mansion.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

***************

As the morning sun filtered through the lace curtains of the dining room, Lydia and Theodore sat down to breakfast after sharing an intimate kiss that shocked Mathilda. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of warm croissants, creating an inviting atmosphere in the room. He kissed her wrist before he started eating, he would always do this and Lydia always feels giddy afterwards.

She glanced around the elegant space, her gaze lingering on the bare walls that seemed to yearn for adornment.

"Theodore, my dear lord husband," she began, her voice carrying a hint of excitement that Theodore knew so well, he was happy she was already letting go of her sister, "I’ve been thinking. Our mansion feels a bit...empty, don’t you think?" she asked.

Theodore looked up from his newspaper, a quizzical expression on his face. "Empty Gooseberry? Whatever do you mean?" they had just done a major change, one he never thought he’d agree to in his life.

Lydia gestured around the room. "Well, look at these walls," she said, her eyes sweeping over the expansive expanse of blank space. "They’re positively crying out for some decoration. We need something to liven up the place, do you not agree?"

Theodore nodded thoughtfully, setting his newspaper aside, if these would take her mind off her grief he would see the light in it. "I see what you mean, Lydia," he replied. "But what do you have in mind?"

Lydia’s face lit up with enthusiasm. "I think we should bring in the painter," she declared before continuing quickly at Theodore’s narrowed gaze. "We could have him paint portraits of us, and then we could hang them on the walls. It would add a personal touch to the mansion and make it feel more like home."

Theodore chuckled a nervous sound, he was charmed by his wife’s suggestion and grateful it wasn’t something he would only agree to because he didn’t wish for her to be denied one more thing plus all the others he fell short, only if he knew Theodore would be satisfied with only him if he would be more open, she did this to pass time and it was a lovely hobby to rearrange your home whenever you want because you can. "That’s an excellent idea, Lydia," he said, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. "I am sure the painter would be delighted to capture our likeness. Shall I arrange for him to come and discuss the details?"

Lydia beamed, nodding eagerly. "Yes, please do," she replied. "I think it would be a wonderful addition to the mansion, and it would give us something to admire every time we walk through these halls."

As they continued their breakfast, discussing plans for the day and the upcoming portrait session, and a surprise Theodore wouldn’t talk about but teased her into thinking, the maids bustled about the room, clearing away dishes and tidying up.

Red, sleek, furry and white laid with Ebony as they lounged lazily on the windowsill, watching the proceedings with lazy curiosity. Helena now had breakfast with Conan since the forest battle and Theodore didn’t mind at all.

"Red seems to approve of the idea," Theodore remarked, casting a glance at the cat.

Lydia smiled, reaching out to stroke his fur. "Yes, I believe he does," she replied. "She will make a lovely addition to our portrait, don’t you think?"

Theodore chuckled, amused by his wife’s affection for their furry companion. "Indeed she will, my dear," he said, raising his coffee cup in a toast. "To a brighter, more personalized mansion, and to the love that fills its walls."

And who is the black grinning cat? Theodore wanted to ask but then Hound came to call him for work.