Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 195: Cloak & Dagger III

Chapter 195: Cloak & Dagger III

Like shadows, Atticus and Jonah’s footsteps were practically soundless. Each step was calculated, trailing after the men inside the house as they moved to an exit. They split up soon after they reached a certain distance and Atticus gave Jonah a purposeful look. A wordless conversation was exchanged between them and Jonah nodded, immediately understanding what his king wanted him to do.

From the pocket of his coat, Atticus pulled out another small selenite piece, passing it to Jonah before reaching for a second piece for himself. There, they split up, one following each man.

Atticus ran the piece of selenite down the invisible barrier, watching as a fine line tore through the forcefield that was created to keep this hut out of plain sight. Jonah would follow the second man while Atticus chose to follow the first.

Why? Simply because he was the first one to show up and was most likely the one who set up the magical barriers. Additionally, he was the one who was working directly for Jean Nott.

The man walked swiftly to the back entrance of the hut. He looked left and right, carefully observing his surroundings before pulling up the hood of his coat that he had just put on.

If only that bit of clothing was enough to save him from trouble.

"I suggest you start speaking while I am still in a fairly good mood."

That man barely even had the time to look in the direction of the voice when he felt his entire body tense up uncontrollably. Even his throat felt a little clogged up, leaving him unable to properly breathe. His arms instinctively tried to reach for his throat but they were glued down to his sides― he couldn’t move a muscle!

His eyes, however, were peeled wide open and he could see everything that was happening. Out of seemingly thin air, a man who was all too familiar fizzled into appearance. The magic that had kept him out of view disappeared, melting away to reveal the last person he wanted to see right now.

Atticus Heinvres stood before him as though he was a god who was about to exact his punishment. The king of Vramid was always said to be many — mainly horrifying — things but was never rumored to be a patient man.

The man felt his airways loosen up and immediately, he gulped down mouthfuls of air like a starved man who was offered food. He heaved, panting heavily while coughing in between breaths of air.

"Your Majesty―"

"No need for pleasantries," Atticus curtly cut him off. He squeezed his fingers together a little tighter, the purple glow of his obsidian ring hauntingly bright. "Name. Now."

"I don’t think there’s a need for it, considering how you can easily just remove my mask," the man glibly replied.

With his words, Atticus certainly did as told. However, not without a price.

The man screamed, his voice tearing through the expanse, causing a flock of birds to fly off the tree nearby that they were originally perched on. Atticus barely even bat an eyelid when he broke that man’s finger― just one as compensation for daring to order a king around.

With a flick of his hand, the charmed mask fell off the man’s face, the ribbons fluttering gently as it lowered to the ground. Without the work of magic aiding to keep his identity hidden, the black-haired man’s face was finally recognizable. And Atticus wasn’t even surprised that he was right.

There indeed were a couple of rotten apples within the inner circles of Vramid’s upper echelon.

"Marquis Seibert," Atticus scoffed, "shouldn’t you be at the Spring Parade watching your wife’s performance right about now?"

Marquis Lucien Seibert, a wealthy businessman and Francessa Seibert’s husband, was but just one of the men Atticus always had a suspicion of. For one thing, he and his wife had far too much influence over the people of polite society and thus had many backers. Lucien Seibert also had never liked Atticus, simply because his wife used to be a potential candidate for Atticus’s wife.

With the mask now gone, Atticus could clearly see the monocle that was wedged over his eye. The charm from the mask had effectively covered this accessory, something that could’ve exposed his identity even just a little.

Captured, Lucien Seibert could only smile. He knew there was no use to struggle for his life when he was faced with the king.

"Husband and wife should both have their own personal interests, yes, King Atticus?" Lucien Seibert said. "I am sure you would understand, Your Majesty, considering your marriage with the Queen."

Above their heads, the skies rumbled with thunder. A bolt of lightning flashed through the heavens, splitting it into two by a string of white. It disappeared as quickly as it came, leaving just a sudden shower in its wake.

Raindrops splashed down, quickly drenching them both.

"You’re working for Jean Nott." Atticus’s words were a statement, not a question. On the other hand, Lucien Seibert’s lips were pursed into a tight line. In his silence, Atticus continued to ask, "He’s in Reaweth now. How long will he be there?"

"A good dog knows not to question its master," Lucien Seibert finally replied. "I know not what Nott is in Reaweth for or how long he will be there. Only that if you are trying to apprehend him, Your Majesty, you will fail."

A strangled hiss of pain escaped Lucien’s lips when Atticus clenched down, causing the purplish aura around Lucien to tighten as well. The marquis could feel his bones getting crushed from the force, his organs mushing together unnaturally.

"Cocky," Atticus clicked his tongue, "though it might not last. Let’s see how much pretense you can keep up once you’re rotting in the cells of my dungeons."

With a sharp wave, Lucien Seibert’s body was manipulated to move against his will, violently flung against the walls of the hut. His head collided with the stone and wood, knocking him unconscious immediately.

Atticus had made sure not to use too much strength so that the man wouldn’t die but just remembering how Marquis Seibert’s wife, Francessa, had made the last few weeks so much harder for Daphne caused a burning rage to build in his chest.

The man had to pay for his wife’s sins.

Right as Atticus used magic once more to pick up Lucien Seibert’s unconscious body, Jonah came running over.

Atticus frowned. "Why are you here?" he asked. "Where’s the other one?"

"My men have him," Jonah replied, gesturing behind him.

Just a short distance away, the portly man was also knocked unconscious with a few extra nicks of Jonah’s blade here and there, barely enough to kill him but plenty to provide him a great deal of discomfort. His arms and legs were tied down together with rope, rendering him unable to move even if he was still conscious.

Some knights were hovering around to make sure that the man was secured. Another had walked over to relieve Lucien Seibert from Atticus, who gladly dropped the man down onto the ground without much care for how he would land.

"Why are they here?" Atticus asked, a little surprised. They hadn’t called for backup and he highly doubted Jonah would have any trouble handling one criminal by himself.

"They came by to bring news," Jonah said, his expression grim. "It’s Daphne."