115: Somewhere I Need To be

Somewhere I Need To be

The chaotic situation caught the attention of curious folks. When some of the bored nobles saw the guards rushing towards somewhere, they followed them as well and news of something bad had happened spread quickly to the guests within the ballroom.  2

Oriana was captured by the guards and she was made to kneel on the ground. Based on the gasps of the forming crowd, as well as how the guards pointed their swords at her, she felt her doomsday had arrived.

However, she felt no fear, only endless regret.

'I could not turn a blind eye to that woman getting assaulted. If I knew I would die for being nosy, I should have also destroyed that pig's family jewels so he won't give to more pigs in the future,' she sighed. 'Grandpa, I can't save you, it seems. Maybe it is better that you suffer from memory loss. Just forget me so you won't miss me. Let's meet in the afterlife and I will apologize to you for being a useless granddaughter.'

The Lord and Lady of the House of Milton arrived as well, only to see their son hurt. 

"Wallace, my poor child! Who did this?!"

A physician was immediately summoned by the hysterical Countess Milton. The guards sealed that hallway and allowed no one to enter, but as they were mere guards, they could not use real force on the gossiping nobles. The other members of the Milton Family had to personally lead them  out, causing the news to further spread wildly. 

Arlan was sipping wine inside the ballroom, listening to a group of young lords about participating in a swordsmanship tournament hosted by the royal family at the end of the year. The prince already felt something was amiss when the host of the party, Count Milton, disappeared in a hurry several minutes ago, thus, when his eyes caught the suspicious behavior of guests being escorted by the relatives of the Count, he focused his senses on their conversation.

"...Someone had beaten the young master of the Milton Family."

"Really?"

"I heard it's a servant."

There was a gasp from listeners. "Their servant did? How gutsy!"

"Did you hear why?"

"Not sure. Maybe it's a drunken brawl? It's a young man though, really young, maybe younger than my son."

"It's amazing though. If you had seen Young Master Wallace, you would be filled with pity."

Another witness spoke as well. "From what I heard, that servant is not from the Miltons but of some guest. He did not seem like a native due to that headwrap on his head."

Arlan was stunned when he heard the last part. Not waiting for another moment, he turned to leave. 

"Where are you going?" the young lord standing right next to him asked. 

"Somewhere I need to be." 

Arlan walked away, leaving that handsome young man behind, who belatedly realized something interesting ought to be going on. 

He followed Arlan, and some of those in their circle decided to follow them as well.

Arlan heightened his senses to listen to the conversations around him, from the gossip of the 'eye witnesses', to the hushed orders passed along the scrambling servants as well as the new arrangement of the guards. 

He did not need guidance as it was easy to distinguish where the security was the tightest from the positions of the guards stationed to keep the guests at bay. No one could block Arlan, and neither could the guards block the people following the Crown Prince. The young men trailing behind were the future hegemon of the kingdom, most of them heirs to marquises and dukes. Even Count Milton had to be polite in front of them.

On the way, Arlan heard enough details to give him an idea of what was going on.

Inside the chamber, Count Walter Milton was furious to see his son's situation. Under the distressed behest of his wife the Countess, Young Master Wallace was led back to the bed with the help of two guards. The victimized woman, seemingly forgotten, moved to one corner, hiding her messy appearance with the bedsheet. 

"What happened here?" Walter asked no one in particular. He angrily kicked the kneeling aggressor. "You dare hit my son, you lowly peasant! Tell me, who gave you the guts? Who do you work for?"

Oriana let out a short gasp of pain, but said nothing. She was adamant on saying nothing. She was not going to answer who she worked for. If she would die, it was better to receive a swift death without dragging others down, be it Arlan, the people from the palace or her grandfather. 

"Answer me!" the man shouted. 

"My poor son," the Countess wailed. "How dare you hit my poor son!"

'Fine! If they want the world to know their  son's indecency.' 

"Don't act as if he is the victim," Oriana answered in a calm manner. "Your poor son happened to be sexually assaulting that woman, and I just saved the real victim."

The attention of the people turned towards the trembling young woman in the corner.

For the nobility, forcing themselves on women of lower status was nothing new.  Though the Count was upset with his son for doing so during such an important occasion, what Walter could not bear was the fact his son was beaten up by a lowly servant who looked as delicate as a girl.

With the anger-filled eyes, the Count looked at his son. "Is he telling the truth, Wallace?" His gaze showed he wished to get a satisfactory answer from his son. 

The young master of the Miltons sat straighter, knowing his father would take care of the situation. 

"Father, he is lying!" he shouted through bruised lips. "It was him! He is lying! This servant, this servant was the one trying to assault Lady Beatricer! How could I accept this happening in our own residence? Lady Beatrice is the precious daughter of our family vassal. I came to stop him, but who would have known he is some dirty alley thug? We need to punish him—no, we need to behead him right away!"

Count Milton was satisfied with the answer from his son. 

"Who do you work for? You don't belong to this residence."

Oriana didn't answer. 

"Didn't you hear me? What? Afraid that your master will discover what kind of hooligan he took in? Which household is it who raised such an immoral servant like you. Even your master won't be able to save you. Hah, wait, I will have my butler find out who you serve. I am sure your master will happily throw you away if not kill you with his own hands."

Oriana still didn't move, acting like a statue on the floor.

She was not scared of dying. She just didn't want her crime to affect her grandfather and prayed that her master would never know about this. 

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