Part Twenty Two – Condolences and Politics
The silence around Jonathan had only just begun to soften when Lord Madeiya swept across the hall like a shadow in silk. Tall, statuesque, his pale skin gleaming under the chandeliers, he exuded a timeless authority. His dark eyes caught Jonathan's and held them as though measuring the worth of the boy before him.
"Jonathan Hanns," he intoned, his voice calm but commanding.
"IronClover grieves with you. Your father was… formidable. His absence leaves a wound not easily mended."
Jonathan inclined his head, the words rehearsed, the mask fixed: "My family thanks you for your kindness."
But already another voice chimed in, smoother, warmer — Lord Doherty, rotund and rosy-faced, his wife on his arm.
"Yes, yes, indeed. Tragedy of the highest order. But take comfort, lad. You are not alone. Should you need support—funds, counsel, alliances—you need only call upon us. The Hanns name carries weight still."
Every condolence came gilded with calculation. Wealth, influence, favors—each an invitation to debt, to obligation. Jonathan felt their eyes upon him not with sympathy, but with hunger.
Still, he nodded, murmuring his thanks, even as his gaze swept the room, searching… Where is she? He had not yet seen Valia.
Then another voice, low and smooth, slithered into the circle: Lord Morokais. His smile was a crescent moon, cold and promising.
"Such grief as yours… it clouds memory, does it not? Perhaps… with the right guidance, certain arcane methods could help you recover what was lost that night. We would be happy to help resolve this situation and bring you closure "
Jonathan stiffened. He masked it quickly, but the thought of the arcane arts touching his mind unsettled him. He opened his mouth to respond—
"Master Hanns."
Two figures stepped forward: Detectives Raleigh and Albert. Their presence here was anomaly enough, their timing even more so. Raleigh's lined face was unreadable, while Albert's sharp eyes gleamed with opportunity.
"A shame to intrude upon noble company," Raleigh said with a polite bow, "but we too must offer our condolences… and, perhaps, ask a question or two."
The tension thickened like smoke. The noble lords bristled, offended by the intrusion, yet unwilling to yield their prey. Jonathan stood in the center of a tightening circle.
Then Lord Madeiya's voice cut in again, sharp and deliberate:
"Perhaps… a hunter should be brought into this matter. Their methods may be crude, but efficient. A swift resolution might restore calm to all our people."
The words landed like a dropped blade.
The detectives stiffened. Raleigh's tone was iron: "Lord Madeiya, Hunters and their methods are not sanctioned for official work in Iron Clover. To employ them would be reckless… embarrassing, even."
Albert added, more pointed: "To call in hunters is to declare war on shadows, my lord. It stinks of desperation. Surely the Council prefers order, not spectacle."
"You must understand the tension and nature of things, my people will not be persecuted for a crime they are not guilty of, do what you must, do it fast!" Lord Madeiyas voice was stern and swift.
The nobles' eyes slid back to Jonathan. Expectant. Pressing. He felt sweat bead at his temple, his throat tightening. Every second stretched, the walls closing in, until—
A soft, clear voice:
"Forgive me, gentlemen, but I believe he's endured enough for tonight."
Valia Lulough.
She stepped into the circle like light piercing fog, her gown of silver and pearl catching every glimmer of candlelight. The nobles parted for her, their power momentarily eclipsed by her presence. She laid a gentle hand on Jonathan's arm.
"Come," she said, her smile carrying both command and warmth. "He is my guest, and I would have him to myself a while."
Jonathan exhaled, relief disguised as courtesy. He bowed slightly, allowed her to guide him away. As he followed her out of the circle, he cast one fleeting glance back — saw Raleigh's shrewd eyes narrowing, Madeiya's face unreadable, Morokais still smiling faintly, as if he had lost nothing.
Jonathan knew he had escaped… but not for long.