The ride back to Ashfall Hold passed mostly in silence, broken only by the steady rhythm of hooves and wheels against the road. Cordelia kept glancing at Rivelius — quick, unguarded looks she didn’t seem to be trying particularly hard to hide — as though still working through exactly what she’d watched him do.
[Wife mood: Confused. Also, somewhat impressed, though she won’t admit that part.]
He said nothing about it, and let her look.
By the time the convoy reached the estate, the sun had dipped low enough to gild the walls gold. Rivelius dismounted first, and went through the same motion as always; lifting Cordelia from the carriage, setting her gently into the wheelchair a guard had already positioned.
Mireille was waiting at the entrance. He gave her a short nod, and she stepped forward to take charge of wheeling Cordelia inside.
Cordelia paused before they’d gone more than a few feet. "What do you plan to do with him?"
Rivelius held her gaze for a moment.
"We’re going to talk," he said. "A very long talk."
"...Okay," Cordelia said, unsure.
[Wife mood: Still confused. Also a bit attracted. She’ll deny that too.]
He ignored it, watching Cordelia and Mireille disappear through the entrance before turning to Reyna.
He gave her a single nod.
"Bring him out," Reyna told the guards.
They hauled Rolin from his own carriage, still bound, still favoring the ruined side of his head, dragging his feet until his eyes caught on the House Kane banners flying properly above Ashfall Hold’s gate.
Rolin went still. Stiller than he’d been all day.
"...Hou— House Kane?" The name came out cracked, barely audible.
"Take him to the cellar," Rivelius said. "I’ll be down in a minute."
Rivelius turned to leave.
"My lord." Reyna’s voice stopped him.
He paused, glancing back.
"We don’t— we don’t have a cellar, my lord."
A long beat, as though he were genuinely reconsidering his opinion of the estate.
"Place him in an empty room, then."
"Yes, my lord."
Rivelius had changed into something lighter by the time he made his way toward the room, Reyna falling into step beside him.
Two guards stood posted outside the door, straight-backed, alert.
He stopped in front of them. "What are you doing?"
"Keeping guard, my lord," one of them answered, not quite understanding the question.
"Guarding what, exactly. The door?" He glanced past them, toward the closed room beyond. "The threat isn’t out here, it’s inside. Alone. With nothing stopping it from finding a way out through a window, a loose board, or anything at all, while the two of you stand here protecting an empty hallway."
The guards exchanged a glance. Slowly, visibly, the logic landed.
Reyna, beside him, went quiet for a moment too, the same realization crossing her face.
He took a step back and nodded to one of the guards. "Open it."
The moment the door swung open—
Rolin lunged, bound hands and all, throwing his whole body forward like a battering ram, catching one of the guards square in the chest and sending him staggering half a step back.
Reyna moved before the guards had even reacted, closing the distance in an instant and driving Rolin face-first to the floor, pinning him there with a knee between his shoulder blades.
Rivelius looked down at all four of them — Rolin pinned and struggling, the two guards frozen mid-reach for their weapons, Reyna holding him down without visible effort — with the same flat, unreadable expression he’d worn through everything else that day.
He shook his head once, and simply walked past them into the room.
Behind him, Reyna hauled Rolin back to his feet and shoved him forward, forcing him down into a kneeling position in the center of the room. One of the guards disappeared briefly and returned with a plain wooden chair, setting it down for Rivelius, who sat facing Rolin directly.
Reyna took up position beside Rivelius, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of her still-sheathed sword.
Rolin knelt in silence for a moment, breathing hard, before the words started spilling out.
"My lord. Whi— whichever rank you hold, please, I meant no true offense. I serve House Kane’s interests as much as anyone in this province. If word reached you that I’ve been anything less than loyal, I assure you—"
"You’re addressing Lord Rivelius Kane," Reyna cut in, flat. "Heir to House Kane."
Rolin went still.
"But—" His voice cracked. "But the rumors say you’re a drunkard. A wastrel who’s never held a blade properly in his life."
Rivelius tilted his head, slightly, and stared at him. Flat. Silent.
"I— I apologize," Rolin said quickly, genuinely, all defiance gone from his voice entirely. "For everything. For my conduct in town, for the disrespect, for—"
"Where did he go?"
Rolin blinked. "...My lord?"
"The man who stood in the street and told me he wasn’t finished with me. Who threatened to bring the whole province down on my head." Rivelius watched him, unmoving. "I’d like to speak to him instead."
Reyna glanced sideways at Rivelius, something unreadable crossing her face; the specific, silent look of someone who’d thought she’d mostly figured out her lord and was now quietly recalculating everything. Again.
Rolin opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "I— that is— my lord, I only meant— the man in the street, he was— I wasn’t—"
"Anyway," Rivelius said, cutting through it. "That’s not why I brought you here."
He opened his mouth to speak, and paused, almost as an afterthought. "On a scale of one to ten," Rivelius said instead, "how much would you say you love your life?"
Rolin’s face drained. "My lord, I— I meant no—"
"It was merely a question, Lord—" A brief pause, reaching for the name.
"Rolin," Rolin supplied quickly.
"Yes. That. Now answer."
"Ten, my lord. Eleven, if you’ll allow it."
Rivelius considered that. "Hm." A beat. "Which means you’d do almost anything to keep it. Correct?"
Rolin nodded, fast, visibly frightened.
"Then I suppose I’ll be generous." Rivelius leaned back slightly in the chair. "We’ll make a small arrangement. You give me what I want, and in exchange, I won’t report this incident to the provincial ministers. Or to my father." A pause. "I’ll also consider raising your standing, in time, well beyond whatever ceiling a man in your position is normally permitted to reach. Assuming, of course, you can prove your loyalty is worth the investment."
Rolin stared at him. "You— you mean that? Truly?"
"I am the heir to House Kane. There is no need for me to tell lies."
A long moment passed before Rolin nodded, quick and certain. "Then— yes. Whatever you require, my lord."
"Good." A pause. "I’ll need beasts," Rivelius said. "Carriages. And one hundred able-bodied men."
Rolin blinked. "Soldiers, my lord?"
"No. Not soldiers." He let that sit a moment. "Just men. Able-bodied."
"Forgive me for asking, my lord, but... why not soldiers?"
Rivelius tilted his head slightly. "Indeed," he said. "Why not soldiers."
He let the question hang there, unanswered, and watched Rolin’s confusion curdle slowly into something closer to unease.
At the edge of his vision, the marker flickered faintly.
[Warden: Active.]
"Also," Rivelius added, "I’ll need farming permits. Free passage for trade, buying and selling, without interference from anyone in this county. My wife intends to build a farm."
Rolin nodded again, quick, eager to agree to anything at this point.
"It’s a deal, then." Rivelius stood.
He turned to Reyna. "Unbind him, have the kitchen prepare whatever he’d like for lunch, and let him clean up before he leaves."
"Yes, my lord," Reyna replied.
Rolin’s shoulders dropped, visibly, the tension finally breaking as something like relief crossed his face for the first time since the street.
Rivelius turned and walked out of the room. Behind him, the guards moved to free Rolin from his bindings.
[Reputation (REP): 12 → 16 ↑]
[Marital Instinct — Lv. 4. EXP: 1,650/3,500 to Lv. 5.]
He glanced at the notification without breaking stride, and kept walking.