"No reason!" Milo insisted, his voice rising slightly in panic. "None at all! Those lads," he nodded towards the bandaged pair again, "they wasn't doin' nothin'! Just standin' there! Maybe talkin' to some girls, friendly like! It was… it was savage, Your Grace! Uncalled for!" He practically scuttled back into the cluster of witnesses.
"Elara," Rubel called the stout woman forward. "Your account?"
Elara twisted her apron, her face pale. "Just like Milo said, Excellency! I saw it all! Lord Ferrum looked like he was spoilin' for a fight from the moment he turned the corner! Eyes all hard, you know? Those poor boys didn't stand a chance! He just… attacked! Shouting things too!"
"Shouting?" Rubel seized on the detail. "What sort of things?"
Elara faltered, glancing nervously at Rubel. "Well… angry things, Excellency. Threats! Like… like he owned the street! Said he'd teach 'em who was boss!" She wrung her hands. "It was frightening!"
"Frightening indeed," Rubel echoed gravely. He gestured to the other three witnesses. "Do your accounts align with what Milo and Elara have described? Did any of you see any provocation from these young men?"
A chorus of mumbled "No, Your Excellency," "Just like they said," and "He just hit 'em!" rose from the remaining three, their eyes wide with fear, their stories overlapping slightly but sticking firmly to the core narrative of Lloyd's unprovoked, instant aggression.
Rubel let the weight of their 'testimony' settle before turning his attention to the bandaged figures, his voice softening with pity. "And these poor souls… loyal servants of families connected to our own Ferrum line," he added, subtly linking them to the broader family structure, "merely attempted to speak with their young lord yesterday, perhaps to understand the previous day's aggression. And for their troubles?" He gestured towards the bandages. "This horror. Inflicted deliberately. Cruelly."
One of the bandaged men emitted a particularly long, drawn-out groan, shifting painfully in his chair. The smell of medicinal salve and something faintly unpleasant emanated from them.
"But the most heart-wrenching testimony," Rubel continued, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, drawing everyone's attention, "comes from the innocent parties caught in the middle." He beckoned the two young girls forward again. They approached the desk like lambs to the slaughter, trembling visibly.
"Child," Rubel addressed the taller girl, his voice gentle, almost paternal. "Please, do not fear. Just tell the Arch Duke the truth. Few days ago, near Weaver's Alley… what happened? Did those young men," he carefully avoided naming the bandaged figures directly this time, "bother you? Threaten you in any way?"
The girl shook her head violently, tears welling in her eyes. "N-no, Your Excellency! No, Your Grace!" she choked out, her voice thin and reedy. "They were… they were nice! Truly! We were a bit lost, see, and they… they just asked if we needed help finding the Weaver's Guild Hall! Showed us the way on a little map one of 'em had!" She sniffled. "They weren't mean at all!"
"Map?" Lloyd thought incredulously. That's a new one. Creative.
"And then what happened?" Rubel prompted softly.
The second girl burst into loud, theatrical sobs, burying her face in her friend's shoulder. "Lord Ferrum!" she wailed between sobs. "He came… he came out of nowhere! He looked… terrifying! Like… like a demon!" She shuddered dramatically. "He yelled at the boys for… for talking to us! Said… said they had no right! Then he… he hit one! Just like the witnesses said! He said…" she trailed off, sobbing harder.
"What did he say, child?" Rubel pressed gently, milking the moment. "What threat did he make?"
"He said… he said he'd burn them!" the girl cried out, lifting her tear-streaked face. "He said he'd burn them if they ever looked at us again! We were so scared! We just ran!" She collapsed back into her friend's embrace, her small body shaking with contrived fear.
It was a masterful performance of manipulation, Lloyd had to admit, albeit a crude one. Rubel had coached them well, layering specific lies onto the general narrative, playing on sympathy, painting Lloyd not just as aggressive, but as possessive, threatening, almost demonic.
Rayan Ferrum, standing beside his father, allowed a small, cruel smile to touch his lips. He found the girls' performance particularly amusing.
Viscount Rubel turned slowly, facing Arch Duke Roy, his expression now one of righteous conviction. "Your Grace," his voice resonated with authority, "the evidence is undeniable. Five impartial witnesses. Two grievously injured victims. The terrified testimony of the very girls Lord Lloyd claims he was 'protecting'. It paints a consistent, damning picture: an unprovoked, brutal assault driven by arrogance and rage. An abuse of power that stains the honor of our name."