If there was ever a time for Orion's smooth talking to come into play, then it was now. But the question was — what on earth could he possibly say to help his situation when everything he had said so far had only managed to make it worse?
Orion forced a nervous smile, hoping to ease the tension in the air and calm the chieftain's growing fury. His palms were slick with sweat, his throat dry as he tried to speak with as much composure as he could muster.
"If it's any consolation," he began hesitantly, "the properties of the soil that made it useful for my breathing issue were already damaging the flowers in that field. So, in a sense, the plans you had for those flowers were already going to waste because of the soil itself."
The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them.
"What did you just say?!" the chieftain thundered, his voice echoing through the hall. He shot up from his chair, his eyes blazing with outrage. Orion's heart sank instantly — he had just made things even worse.
In his desperate attempt to calm the chieftain, Orion had unknowingly struck at his pride. His words sounded condescending — as though he were implying that the chieftain didn't understand his own land, his own field. That was an insult no man of authority could easily overlook, especially one who had personally cultivated the soil with his own hands.
The chieftain's fury deepened as memories of his work flashed through his mind. He had been the one who discovered that the soil of that field allowed crops to grow at a remarkably fast rate compared to normal land. Until he had developed that field of flowers, the land had been barren — untouched for years. But even with its fertility, it carried a curse: crops and flowers planted there would grow larger and faster than normal, yet they would also decay at an alarming rate, their beauty short-lived and their death grotesque.
"This arrogant child!" the chieftain bellowed, his anger trembling in his voice. "And what's this nonsense you said about a container my daughter gave you to hold your useless mud experiment?"
He turned sharply to face Azalea, his expression one of stern disbelief. "If I remember correctly, didn't your mother give you a container for your lotion because you didn't like the design of the old one you had before she passed away? I recall Stella mentioning that the very same container has been missing these past few days, and she thought she'd misplaced it somewhere — which I scolded her greatly for."
Azalea froze for a brief second. When she spoke, her voice was small, almost fragile. "Yes, Father… it's been missing."
The chieftain's face hardened, a skeptical groan escaping him as he folded his arms. His tone lowered, becoming cold and deliberate.
"Am I right to assume," he asked, his eyes narrowing, "that the missing container is the very same one you gave this little vandal?"
Azalea hesitated — then nodded. "Yes."
Orion's eyes widened in horror, realizing the weight of what her answer implied. His stomach turned as the chieftain's gaze shifted toward him, sharp and vengeful.
"Chieftain, I swear I didn't know how important that container was — or that the field I got my mud from was yours," Orion said quickly, panic in his voice. "I was only searching for a solution to my condition—"
The chieftain cut him off sharply, his voice slicing through the air like a blade. "My daughter felt comfortable enough to give you something so important that had sentimental value to her and you expect me to believe that you aren't the one who she let take advantage of her? That your relationship with my daughter ended the day of your first interaction until now? Do you take me for a fool, boy?"
Orion's words caught in his throat. He quickly shook his head, stepping back instinctively — but Samuel and Marcel were already behind him, blocking any escape. Their hands rested on their weapons, ready to restrain him if needed.
"I assure you, Chieftain," Orion pleaded, desperation edging his tone. "I may have done foolish things — like damaging your field of flowers and, yes, taking the carrier of one of the Supplementary Military Corps members — but I swear I never laid a hand on your daughter! I don't know why she said it was me, but I promise you, it isn't true!"
Xander's laughter erupted suddenly, sharp and cruel, cutting through the tension in the room. Orion flinched at the sound, his blood running cold.
"What an idiot," Xander sneered, crossing his arms. "You really just confessed that out loud? Standing in front of the chieftain, who has direct ties with the Supplementary Military Corps, and you admit to stealing from us? I overestimated you. You're not as clever as I thought."
Orion's stomach twisted as realization dawned. He had just damned himself further.
He turned to the chieftain again, desperate for a hint of understanding — but the man's expression was devoid of mercy. The look in his eyes said it all: he was done with Orion. Tired. Disappointed. Angry beyond measure.
"Chieftain—please, just listen—" Orion tried again.
"Enough!" the chieftain roared, slamming his hand against the armrest of his chair. "Get him out of my sight! Throw him in the cell and let him rot there until I decide what to do with him!"
Orion's heart dropped into his stomach. "Wait—no, please—" he gasped, but it was too late.
"As you command, Chieftain," Xander replied with a smug grin, bowing slightly. He turned to Orion with open satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. "You heard the man."
Samuel and Marcel didn't hesitate. Each grabbed one of Orion's arms and began dragging him toward the door. Orion struggled violently, shouting between breaths.
"Let go of me! I didn't do anything wrong! Azalea, tell him the truth! You know I didn't—" His voice cracked. "Is this how you repay someone who risked his life to save you?!"
"Shut your mouth!" the chieftain barked, his glare cutting through Orion's words. "How dare you scream in my court!"
Orion's protests echoed faintly as he was dragged to the entrance doors which were swung open by the guards on the other side.
Still fuming, the chieftain exhaled sharply and stormed toward the door adjacent to his chair, muttering under his breath about fools and disgrace. He needed air — space to cool the fire boiling in his chest. The situation had spiraled too far out of control.
Azalea stood motionless, her eyes fixed on Orion as he was forced through the doorway, still protesting, before being taken out of her line of sight when they turned right down the corridor. Beside her, Stella — her maidservant — watched the same sight, her lips tightening with righteous anger.
As the doors swung to a close, Xander — who was behind Orion, Samuel, and Marcel — gave Azalea a knowing look, silently mouthing a message only she could understand, even though they were too far apart for her to read his lips. Then the doors closed, cutting off their view of each other, and Xander followed the others on their march to the cells.
Stella turned to her mistress, her voice trembling with both concern and judgment. "You don't have to feel bad about what happened, Miss Azalea. You did the right thing by telling the chieftain the truth. That boy got what he deserved. How dare he take advantage of you while you're in such a vulnerable state — especially with the one-year anniversary of what happened to you drawing near? And with the Supplementary Military Corps members here, it only confirms that the next Wave of Rebirth is just around the corner. The last thing you need right now is more pain." Her tone softened slightly. "Still, I suppose there's at least one benefit to their presence — they managed to catch that scumbag who took advantage of you. After what he did to you and your father's cherished field, he deserves every bit of punishment coming his way."
Azalea's expression didn't change. Her face was calm — too calm — but her eyes told another story. Guilt gnawed at her, cold and relentless, eating away at her conscience. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, almost devoid of emotion.
"Whatever you think he did," she said quietly, "he didn't deserve this."
Stella blinked, taken aback. "Miss?"
Azalea turned away, her blank expression hardening. Without another word, she stepped toward the side door near her father's chair. Stella's hand slipped off her shoulder, confusion flooding her face as her mistress walked away.
"Azalea?" she called softly, but the young woman didn't respond. Her figure disappeared through the doorway, her silence saying far more than any confession could.
Left standing in the heavy quiet of the hall, Stella frowned. Something about her mistress's reaction unsettled her. After a long pause, she followed — trailing behind Azalea, who wasn't heading to her chambers as expected, but deeper into the compound, to somewhere only she knew.k