Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 220: The Sentencing II

Chapter 220: The Sentencing II

"How dare you! You can’t put me to death!" Francessa tried to draw herself to her full height, only to bump her head against the roof of the cage.

She refused to believe this swarm of vermin could have the nerve to call for her head. Her yells were swallowed by the crowd, who looked even more enraged when they saw that she was still standing and protesting, instead of cowering in the corner.

They began to rush at the carriage, as though they wanted to pull down the cage and beat her to death with their own bare hands. But thankfully they were restrained by the guards on duty, who had to push them back.

The crowd’s ammo turned even more vile. Rotten produce, rocks, and even manure started to fly through the air. Francessa shrieked and ducked, but her gown was now decorated with foul-smelling substances, and bruises formed on her arms where the rocks had met their mark.

"Should we get more guards to protect her?" Jonah asked as he observed the situation. "At this rate, she might not even make it to her sentencing."

"Ask my wife what she thinks," was Atticus’s only reply.

"Daphne?"

"We should parade her throughout the entire town. She still has a long way to go and a lot of citizens to apologize to," Daphne said simply. She had the route in mind― it was the same one taken by the floats for the Spring Parade. "Come on, we shouldn’t dawdle and waste precious daylight. Onward we go!"

She then beamed at both men and clapped her hands delightedly like a child, before getting on her horse, leaving them to stare at her with nonplussed expressions on their faces.

"Isn’t she lovely when she’s all vengeful and happy?" Atticus asked, a besotted look forming on his face as he relished in Daphne’s unbridled joy. He hurriedly rushed towards his wife and got on his own horse, helpfully saddled next to hers, without even waiting for Jonah to reply.

"... Right," Jonah said, shaking his head.

This couple was terrifying. But orders were orders, and he got his guards to clear the path for the carriage, as well as make sure that no civilians got too close to Francessa.

If she did die before her sentencing, Daphne would be disappointed, which would then also upset Atticus, and Jonah was not paid enough to deal with two upset royals. For all he claimed to know about necromancy, he couldn’t do any of it.

Jonah then went back to the dungeons to fetch Francessa Seibert’s husband, since Atticus would be able to handle the parade.

Francessa’s carriage continued to make its slow meandering path through the town, and she continued to collect a vast array of throwable items on her expensive gown. It had gone from a blue silk masterpiece to nothing more than a rag used for dusting floors.

Even her skin, once pale and flawless, was now littered with a variety of bruises and cuts as citizens flung whatever they could spare at her face. Some merely flung pebbles, but others had empty glass bottles and flung those instead, causing her to scream in pain.

Those who had nothing to throw simply flung insults.

Francessa’s eyes beaded with tears, but she refused to cry in front of these unwashed masses. She turned her nose up at them as their smell hit her nose.

Vermin! Vermin, all of them!

A lioness would not cower in the midst of the ants, no matter how many there were. She turned around to see the king and queen riding a safe distance away, chatting amicably while she endured the indignity of such disgraceful treatment!

If she had awakened her powers, they wouldn’t dare to touch her!

Eventually, they managed to make it to the end of the route, where a herald stood there waiting, along with Sir Jonah and Francessa’s own husband, Lucien Seibert. His limbs were clasped in chains.

Lucien looked up at her wearily, his face haggard and wan. His eyes widened as he caught sight of his wife trapped in a cage, as though she was a wild animal, while the crowd hurled all sorts of items and vulgarities at her.

"What is the meaning of this, Sir Jonah? How could you do this to a lady?" Lucien demanded, outraged at the sight of his wife treated like a circus attraction. Even if she never loved him, this was a little too much!

"Ah. I forgot you couldn’t listen to her confession," Jonah said pityingly. The device didn’t have that much range. "I’ll see if I can pull up the recording for you at a later time?" He didn’t know if that was possible, but he could try. Come to think about it, he should improve this device so that it could do this in the future!

Lucien Seibert’s face paled even further, if that was even possible. "...What did she say?"

"Many things, none of them good. Long story short, she said that if you wanted to be her perfect lover, you should have died with her secret," Jonah said, shrugging. "She also called you useless and pathetic, but then again, so did I. If I were you, I’d stop feeling any heartache for her. Save it for yourself instead."

Lucien hung his head and closed his eyes in devastation, his greasy hair falling into his eyes. He gritted his teeth. After all that he had done for her... this was how he was repaid?

Francessa was finally let out of the cage. She was clasped in chains and dragged to his side, and Lucien slowly inched away at the stench wafting off her. Meanwhile, Francessa noted that he was still wearing the clothes he wore when he left the mansion. He didn’t smell any better, so who was he to act disgusted?

The king and queen also got down from their steeds, the crowd keeping a wide berth around them. Yet there was no denying the hungry eyes around them, their mouths braying for blood.

"Marquis Lucien Seibert and Marchioness Francessa Seibert, both of you are convicted for the following crimes: the illegal smuggling of gemstones, the knowing and deliberate collusion with a dangerous criminal, as well as the theft of funds from the needy and wealthy alike. What do you have to say for yourselves?"

The crowd fell silent. The people were full of vultures waiting for their downfall.

Lucien Seibert could only bow, defeated. "For all the crimes I did, I did for love. I accept whatever punishment my king deems fit."

If King Atticus called for his execution, he would gladly die to finally put an end to this torture. He had nothing more to live for.

Yet his wife raised her head defiantly. "I did nothing wrong! Why should I be punished for wanting more wealth and power? You tricked me into confessing! You are the true criminals!"

The crowd booed in unison.

Atticus held up his hand, and the crowd fell silent once again.

"In that case, I have just the right punishment for you," Atticus said.

Atticus and Daphne had discussed this along the way, and they have come up with a fitting punishment.

"Firstly, all your assets will be seized by the royal family. This includes any business ventures and holdings not affiliated with their status as nobility. You are not allowed to own anything more valuable than your chamberpot."

Francessa stumbled, as if struck. There was no harsher blow to her. Meanwhile, Lucien only nodded in silent acceptance. If he died, he wouldn’t need the money.

"Secondly, both of you will be sentenced... to exile to the Northern borders," Atticus pronounced, his smile a sharp slash across his face. "Perhaps a long trip away from Vramid will rekindle your marriage."