He pointed a trembling finger at his brother. "Know this, Rubel Ferrum. If you, or any member of your immediate family," his gaze flickered briefly towards the terrified Rayan, "ever attempt anything against the Head Family again – any plot, any manipulation, any whisper of dissent – I will not hesitate. I will strip you of your titles, seize your lands, and banish your entire line from the Ferrum name and blood forever. You will be erased."
The threat hung in the air, absolute and terrifying.
"As for this… transgression," Roy continued, his voice regaining its icy control, "there will be immediate consequence. You will pay a fine of one hundred Gold Coins to the Ducal treasury by sunset tomorrow. A pittance, perhaps, but a public acknowledgment of your offense." He waved a dismissive hand towards the door. "Now get out of my sight. All of you." He included the witnesses, the bandaged figures, and Rayan in the command.
Rubel stared, aghast at the severity of the judgment, the public humiliation, the explicit threat of banishment. But he saw the unwavering resolve in his brother's eyes. He opened his mouth, perhaps to protest, then closed it again, defeated. He bowed stiffly, a mockery of respect, turned on his heel, and stormed out of the study, his face a mask of barely contained fury. Rayan scrambled after him, shooting Lloyd one last look of pure hatred. The witnesses and the bandaged victims scurried out like frightened mice, vanishing into the corridor.
Roy then turned his attention back to Lloyd, his expression still stern, but the overt fury lessening slightly, replaced by a complex mix of assessment and perhaps… grudging approval? He also glanced towards Rosa, who was still processing Lloyd's impossible revelation about the engagement attempt, her usual composure visibly shaken.
"Furthermore," Roy declared, his voice resonating with authority once more, "the matter of Viscount Rubel Ferrum and the conduct of his branch family will be the primary agenda item at the Ferrum Family Summit next week. His position, his influence… will be reassessed. Thoroughly."
The implication was clear. Rubel hadn't just failed; he had potentially crippled his own standing within the family hierarchy for years to come.
Lloyd stood tall, meeting his father's gaze. He had not only proven his innocence but had turned his uncle's attack into a devastating counter-offensive, exposing Rubel's treachery and solidifying his own unexpected competence in his father's eyes. The game had decisively shifted.
----
Day number Seven.
The number pulsed behind Lloyd Ferrum's eyelids even before the first intrusive rays of dawn managed to pierce the heavy velvet curtains. Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours since reality had decided to hit the cosmic rewind button, depositing his eighty-year-old consciousness back into this infuriatingly youthful, perpetually awkward nineteen-year-old body. Seven days back on Riverio. Fourteen days married to an Ice Queen. Seven days sleeping on… this.
He cracked an eye open, greeted by the familiar, ridiculously ornate pattern carved into the ceiling plasterwork. Yup. Still the sofa. Still emitting that faint, aggressively floral scent of potpourri that seemed designed to induce headaches. Still boasting lumps in places furniture shouldn't even have places.
Seven days, his internal monologue echoed, already picking up speed like a runaway minecart. Feels like seven years. Or maybe just a particularly long, uncomfortable week trapped in aristocratic purgatory. He pushed himself up, swinging his legs over the side, the floorboards predictably cold against his bare feet. Another day, another ducat… or maybe just another chance to not die humiliatingly before breakfast.
A sigh escaped him, probably number… fifty? Sixty? He'd lost count yesterday amidst the Rubel-induced farce. This body seemed predisposed to sighing. Or maybe it was just the cumulative weight of three lifetimes pressing down. Focus, Lloyd. Today is important.
Today was the seventh day. The final hurdle. The finish line for Operation: Canine Cuisine Upgrade. Five System Coins. That was the prize. Five precious coins that, added to the eight he'd scraped together through furniture destruction, bully slapping, and impromptu economics lectures, would finally… finally… push him over the threshold. Ten coins to open the shop. Thirteen total. Enough. Barely enough, but enough.
Anticipation thrummed beneath his skin, a low-voltage current chasing away the morning grogginess. The System. The Shopping Tree. That bizarre, potentially universe-altering catalogue of power he'd stumbled upon in his first life, understood on Earth, and now, finally, could use. What wonders, what horrors, what ridiculously overpriced upgrades awaited him behind that 10-coin paywall? He had to know.