News of Viscount Ferrier's arrest reached Count Leman's manor after breakfast.
Inside the study, Count Leman sat behind his desk, his face etched with exhaustion.
The cup of tea in his hand had gone completely cold.
The Count stared at the tea, making no move to drink it.
"Ferrier's been arrested. It happened at dawn today. Those mad dogs from the Judicial Court dragged him right out of bed—they have witnesses and physical evidence! The Church moved faster and more ruthlessly than I imagined."
Leman's voice was tinged with panic.
"We have to leave the Royal Capital at once! I've already arranged an escape route. We have to go now, or it'll be too late!"
After speaking, he stared intently at Velin.
Velin, however, sat on a sofa diagonally across from him, calmly stirring milk into his hot tea with a small silver spoon.
He looked back at Leman, a flicker of doubt crossing his mind. 'How could someone who usually seems so shrewd and calculating be this panicked today?'
