Chapter 109
Joel trailed behind Yuls as they navigated the corridors. Billy and Ivan naturally fell into position, matching their master’s pace. At a junction in the hallway, Joel peeled away to attend to other duties. As the rest of the group ascended the stairs, a sentinel from the Escort Knight Division took up the rear, following the head chamberlain’s lead.
The man overseeing the Woodpecker residence within the Ionad Palace—a different official from Yuls’s private head chamberlain—offered a deep, formal bow. He informed the Duke that a subordinate of Viscount Macauliffe was currently in the drawing room. Yuls gave a curt nod and adjusted his course toward the meeting area.
The visitor was waiting in the hall rather than inside. Yuls entered first, followed by his chamberlain and the knights; the messenger from Macauliffe was the last to step through the door.
Yuls settled onto a sofa and fixed his gaze on the newcomer. The man lowered his head in a respectful greeting.
“I am Felix, Excellency, a servant in the house of Macauliffe. It is a great privilege to be granted this audience.”
Yuls jerked his chin upward, a silent command for the man to cease his flattery. Felix immediately choked back his remaining pleasantries. The master he served, Viscount Macauliffe, was a recent arrival from Dunbar who had been aggressively cultivating a political circle based in Ionad.
The Woodpecker estate had been one of Macauliffe’s previous targets for recruitment.
While Yuls had maintained a veneer of civility in the past, he felt no obligation to assist the man. He was acutely aware of the low regard in which the Dalcatir nobility held him.
To approach him despite that reputation suggested a hidden agenda. Many had tried to manipulate Yuls before, blinded by his youthful appearance, but he was not a tool to be wielded by others.
Another detail piqued his interest.
The name Felix had its roots in Belipeera. Much like Macauliffe himself, this servant lacked a traditional Dunbar name, carrying only a surname that fit the region. It made Yuls wonder if they truly originated from the Dunbar nobility at all.
“Deliver your message,” Yuls commanded.
“My master humbly requests your presence at a banquet to be held within the palace grounds this evening, if you would be so inclined.”
“Is that the extent of it?”
“Furthermore, he asks if you might permit the festivities to take place here, within your own residence.”
A dry laugh escaped Yuls. To ask for a banquet was one thing, but to demand his home as the venue on such short notice was another entirely.
“Continue.”
“Viscount Macauliffe will, of course, provide all the catering and provisions.”
“I see.”
The Duke’s tone was a slow drawl. Though the word suggested acknowledgment, it carried no hint of approval. The messenger watched Yuls’s face with growing apprehension. Most aristocrats treated servants as invisible or subhuman, but the Duke’s scrutiny felt different—heavier. Yuls spoke again.
“I suspect Macauliffe sent you because he considers your life cheap enough to lose if this goes poorly.”
“Am I to… record that as a rejection, Excellency?”
“I have not given my answer yet. Pay attention. It seems your master was negligent in your training.”
The servant remained silent.
“Explain the necessity of this location.”
“A significant number of guests are expected to attend.”
“And why should a crowd gather under my roof? This wing of the palace is hardly spacious.”
“The reason is…”
“Besides,” Yuls interrupted, his voice sharpening, “you speak as if this gathering is already a certainty, without ever bothering to consult my wishes.”
Yuls shifted his eyes slightly. Though he didn’t look at the man directly, a knight moved into the servant’s field of vision. The threat of execution felt far more literal than metaphorical in that moment.
“So, the truth is this: the Viscount has no real desire to speak with me. He simply needs to lease a room. And as a minor courtesy to the landlord, he’s tossing me an invitation. Is that the situation?”
It was a blunt interpretation, yet it struck the heart of the matter.
“This is quite peculiar,” Yuls mused.
“Arranging a feast usually takes more than a few hours. Why can’t he use the space he originally booked?”
“Unforeseen complications arose, Excellency.”
“Really?”
Yuls considered what those complications might be. A reserved hall doesn’t simply vanish. Had the meeting been legitimate, the royal administration would have ensured a space was available. Even if a higher-ranking official had bumped them, there were always secondary halls. If those were off-limits, the reason had to be specific.
The only major shift since yesterday involved Claude.
The Crown Prince’s Palace was now under a total lockdown. No one was permitted entry except for Count Grimaldi. The King had made his stance on isolation very clear.
“This was supposed to happen at Claude’s residence, wasn’t it?”
Yuls’s voice was flat with certainty. He watched the servant’s mask of composure crumble.
“Visiting him now would draw the King’s scrutiny.”
The royal eyes would be fixed on anyone breaking the quarantine. The entire government had paused specifically to isolate the Prince; anyone attempting to bypass that would be marked immediately.
Macauliffe clearly wanted to avoid being noticed, yet the meeting was too vital to cancel. He needed to speak with a large group of people urgently. A banquet was the perfect cover for a secret summit.
Something was being set in motion.
“Your master is playing a dangerous game,” Yuls noted.
A small smile touched the Duke’s lips, sparked by the entertainment of watching Macauliffe struggle. The servant, however, turned ashen at the sight of that grin.
“Very well. The space is his.”
The messenger’s tension broke instantly, but Yuls wasn’t finished. “On one condition.”
“Do not touch my food.”
“Forgive me… does that imply you will be absent from the table?”
“Hardly. I will be present, as is my right.”
Yuls had no intention of letting a conspiracy unfold in his own home without keeping a close eye on it.
“I simply find it difficult to trust others with what I consume.”
“My master is a man of honor, Excellency.”
“His character is irrelevant to me, and your opinion on the matter is worthless. There is no bond of trust between Macauliffe and myself. He once sent me a collection of documents seeking my aid—a dry, report-like mess that proved entirely useless.”
Yuls was well aware that his rejection had pushed Macauliffe toward Claude. The information the Viscount had offered held no interest for the Duke.
“If I had simply ignored his request, how do you think he would have reacted?”
The servant offered no reply. The air was thick with mistrust.
“In my position, one must always be wary of the assassin’s vial. Especially when a banquet is organized with such haste.”
Yuls made his suspicions plain, knowing the messenger would report every word. This was exactly what the Duke wanted.
“Billy.”
“At your service, Excellency.”
“Escort him to the kitchens. Arrange for them to have their own space to work.”
The matter was settled. As the servant’s shoulders relaxed, a flicker of genuine annoyance crossed Yuls’s mind. He was being used as a political shield for a minor scheme, and the interruption had cost him precious time with Adi.
As the man named Felix bowed in gratitude, Yuls stopped him once more.
“Give your master a message, Filix.”
Behind the Duke, Billy winced. He wanted to correct the name, but the atmosphere forbade it. His hand twitched at his side, then went still.
“Next time.”
Billy desperately wanted to point out the error, but he remained silent.
“Tell the Viscount to present himself in person.”
Yuls’s mood was darkening. Billy, who had survived this long by knowing when to hold his tongue, realized that any interruption would be disastrous.
“He should be the one bowing his head to ask for my help.”
“The only reason you are leaving this room alive is because I am in a pleasant mood today.”
Felix had no idea what could possibly be making the Duke happy, but he was profoundly grateful for whatever it was.
“Leave.”
At the dismissal, Billy led the trembling man out of the drawing room. Yuls watched them go with cold eyes before turning to his guard. “Inform Bert that we will require a full escort for tonight’s event.” The knight saluted and departed immediately.
Only Ivan remained with the Duke. Yuls let out a soft, thoughtful sound. “Highly suspicious,” he whispered. Every aspect of the request felt like a trap or a puzzle. Yuls spoke into the quiet room.
“Ivan.”
“Watch them closely.”
Ivan gave a silent nod and retreated. Yuls exhaled slowly. A moment later, a sudden draft from an open window swept through the room, and the presence of the other man vanished completely. Ivan was gone.
