Witchbound Villain: Infinite Loop
277 – Knowing Too Much

After Eos finished his explanation, both Adroros and Endreos gave a thoughtful hum—slow, contemplative, the kind that spoke of understanding something strange but not necessarily condemning it.

Then, they waved a hand in his direction, offering a smile that was as much sympathy as it was amusement.

“Well,” Adroros began, his tone even and measured, “if she’s not your sister by blood, although blessed with your brother’s heart, then I suppose tradition takes precedence. And in your case, that tradition clearly doesn’t equate to incest as we define it.”

He folded his arms, voice laced with a quiet frankness. “For most of us, it’s sin. Simple as that. Even beastkin have long since abandoned the practice—especially once we understood the consequences. Children born from narrow bloodlines rarely fare well.”

Eos tilted his head, frowning slightly. “Strange. I didn’t realize it was such a significant taboo. Weren’t humans, elves, dwarves—everyone—marrying their siblings and cousins just a few centuries ago?”

“Perhaps,” Adroros replied, not denying it. “But after the First Demon Lord’s annihilation, things shifted. When our faith rose, so did our scrutiny. There are commandments now. Laws. A culture shaped by fire and fear.”

Eos exhaled, not out of exasperation, but from the realization that he’d perhaps missed something important. “I suppose I’ll need to revisit our customs. Maybe remind my people to stop calling their brother’s heart bearer their sister. That… might be creating confusion among the other races.”

Adroros chuckled softly. “Listening to your perspective, Sir Eos, is strangely refreshing.”

“Unexpectedly entertaining,” Endreos added with a grin.

Then, with the mischievous curiosity of the young, he asked, “Speaking of which—what if your brother and his heart bearer wife have a daughter? A pureblood female unicorn. Could you marry her?”

The question landed like a stone dropped into still water.

Eos blinked. And then recoiled, his whole body shivering with visible discomfort. “Absolutely not. That’s disgusting. She’d be my niece. No—worse. She’d feel like my daughter. Why would I ever…?”

He shuddered. “No. Just no.”

Adroros and Endreos exchanged a glance—and promptly burst into laughter. Not mocking, but relieved. Shared understanding bridged in humor.

“That, Sir Eos,” Adroros said between chuckles, “is exactly how we feel about incest.”

“I see,” Eos murmured, slowly shaking his equine head as if finally understanding the full weight of the cultural chasm between them. “Yes… I get it now.”

Eos fell into a troubled silence, eyes narrowed with unease as the implications of Burn and Morgan’s relationship began to settle in his mind. The room, sensing the weight of his thoughts, followed suit. Even Adroros and Endreos kept respectfully quiet, unwilling to disturb his contemplation.

Finally, Eos broke the silence, his voice thoughtful but direct. “What do you personally think of this… situation?”

Adroros turned to his father, unsure. “Shouldn’t we oppose their relationship, then, Father?”

Before an answer could be given, the chamber doors creaked open. A gust of air swept in with four figures: Selen and her husband, Theor; Aidyl Navarre; and the imposing Onulph Sam. Their presence shifted the atmosphere immediately.

“We can’t,” rumbled the werewolf, his voice like gravel over steel. “Pardon the interruption, Sir Adroros.”

Adroros straightened instinctively, a touch of decorum returning to his posture. “Lord Sam, Lady Selen, Lord Theor, Lord Navarre—please, consider this room your own.”

Selen strode forward with the ease of someone long used to commanding space. “Apologies for intruding, but let’s not pretend this isn’t long overdue. The five of our communities—we’ve formed a faction. I’m blunt, but let’s not insult each other with politeness. This is the reality, isn’t it?”

Adroros cleared his throat, not even attempting to disagree. “It’s… a fair observation.”

Aidyl, ever the reluctant diplomat, sighed as he took a seat. “Let’s face it. We’ve all kept to ourselves so long, we forgot what the rest of the world looks like. I don’t like admitting it, but aligning with you lot might be the most sensible decision we’ve made in decades.”

Selen’s low, sharp laugh echoed lightly. Onulph simply grinned—wolfish and amused.

“Faction,” Eos mused aloud. “So this is what that feels like. How novel.”

Onulph and Aidyl exchanged a long-suffering glance. Even now, neither wanted to admit just how steep a cliff the assembly stood on.

“We overheard Luminus’ King, the Elven Queen, and the Dwarven King talking earlier,” Selen added with a yawn. “They were adamant—righteous, even—in their intent to reject the union between His Majesty and Her Holiness. Predictable.”

“I doubt they’ll outright oppose it,” Adroros murmured, brows drawn. “They owe too much to Her Holiness. I suspect they’ll bluster loudly, moralize publicly—and do very little, privately.”

“But what of the cardinals?” he added, tone darkening. “They’ve yet to speak.”

“Father Vlad, Lord Isaiah, and Duke Leodegrance?” Aidyl replied, folding his arms tightly across his chest. “Not a word from any of them.”

Their silence was loudest of all. They were not only the strongest in the assembly—they were its conscience, its spine. When they spoke, kingdoms listened. When they didn’t, kingdoms waited.

Eos turned to them all again, his tone quieter now. “And what about us? What do we think?”

A heavy silence fell over the chamber. Five of the ten pillars of the assembly sat in stillness—each weighing not just politics or power, but the weight of legacy and loyalty.

“Since none of us know His Majesty or Her Holiness personally,” Aidyl began, his voice laced with caution, “I think it’s too early for us to make any formal statement. And let’s not forget—he ordered us not to spread the news.”

“He didn’t quite say that,” Adroros cut in, the correction gentle, but sharp enough to draw every eye in the room. “What he said was: do not let Her Holiness find out.” He held the pause long enough for the words to settle. “By extension, of course, spreading the information would inevitably lead to her finding out. So—yes, we can’t spread it. But let’s not pretend he ever forbade gossip for gossip’s sake.”

Selen narrowed her eyes. “So what exactly are you implying?”

Adroros leaned forward slightly. “I’m saying His Majesty doesn’t give a damn about his reputation. The only one he’s protecting is her. That, my friends, tells us everything we need to know.”

Onulph let out a short grunt—an affirmation in the form of exasperation. He, too, had pieced it together.

“He’s planning to silence us,” the werewolf said flatly. “Permanently. Try to stop that wedding, and it won’t be politics we’re dealing with—it’ll be survival.”

A fresh silence settled over the room. This one was heavier.

“…So what you’re saying is,” Endreos muttered, sinking into his chair, “we’ve traded one golden age for another tyrant with good manners.”

“Let’s not be dramatic,” Adroros replied, though his voice lacked conviction. “Nothing is perfect. The terms of vassalage under His Majesty have been more than fair—even generous. His reign has promised protection, prosperity, and relative sanity. We’ve always known he had… tyrannical tendencies. It’s just that now he’s being emotionally irrational on top of it.”

“Or worse,” Onulph added, eyes dark. “He might call the whole thing off, sever ties with Her Holiness, and never even tell her why. If that happens, we’re still expected to keep our mouths shut.”

Adroros rubbed his temple. “The truth is, we don’t know him well enough to predict what he’ll do. But what we do know—what we witnessed today in the hall—was more than enough to understand the kind of creature we’re dealing with.”

The memory struck them all at once—His Majesty’s fury, sharp and absolute, like a blade unsheathed. For a moment, it had been clear: he was seriously weighing whether he should kill everyone in the room just to keep the secret buried. And if he had chosen to act on that thought—not even Isaiah, the Dragon of the East, could have stopped him.

They knew this because Vlad, the Vampire of the West, had read his mind. Had glimpsed the flash of carnage in His Majesty’s thoughts. It had taken all of Vlad’s influence, and a well-timed message to Leodegrance and Isaiah, to restrain what could’ve been a historic massacre.

And thank the gods for that moment of clarity—because Duke Aroche Leodegrance, resurrected covenant brother to the Emperor himself, had responded in kind.

In the end, perhaps it wasn’t logic, diplomacy, or politics that spared them. Perhaps, what truly saved the entire assembly… was simply the presence of Aroche Leodegrance.

With that, Onulph concluded with a strong finality, “So, we better shut the fuck up."