Roy didn't waste time on formalities. His voice was flat, sharp as honed steel. "This morning, Lloyd. Weaver's Alley. Three individuals were severely injured. Burns consistent with extreme heat, possibly… specialized application." He let the implication hang heavy in the air. "Reports indicate you were present immediately prior to their… incapacitation."
He paused, his eyes boring into Lloyd's. "Were you responsible for injuring three employees loyal to this family, Lloyd?"
Employees loyal to the family? The phrasing struck Lloyd instantly. Not 'street thugs', not 'local nuisances'. Employees. Whose employees? He glanced briefly at Rubel, whose expression remained one of polite concern, utterly devoid of connection to the injured parties. The pieces clicked into place with chilling speed.
Ah. A cold understanding dawned. Not random bullies seeking revenge for a slap. Rubel's pawns. Sent specifically to provoke me, to test me, perhaps to lure Ken Park into revealing himself or even to create an incident that could be spun against me, against Father. Their bravery wasn't stupidity; it was obedience. And their 'loyalty' wasn't to the family as a whole, but to Rubel's faction.
This changed everything. It wasn't just pest control anymore; it was disrupting his uncle's machinations. A grim smile touched Lloyd's lips internally. Good.
He met his father's gaze directly, his voice calm and firm. "Yes, Father. I incapacitated them." No denial, no equivocation.
Roy's expression didn't change, but Lloyd saw a flicker deep in his eyes. Confirmation.
"And why," Roy pressed, his voice dangerously quiet, "did you deem such extreme measures necessary?"
"Because," Lloyd stated clearly, "they were harassing young women yesterday. Because today, despite my warning and intervention, they ambushed me in an alley with clear intent to cause harm. They chose confrontation. They received consequence." He paused, letting the weight of his next words sink in. "And should they, or anyone else, engage in such behaviour again, be it harassing innocents or attempting to assault me, I will deliver the same consequence without hesitation."
Before Roy could respond, Rubel Ferrum stepped forward slightly, his expression shifting to one of grave concern, smoothly interjecting himself into the conversation. "My dear brother, nephew," he began, his voice dripping with false sympathy, "perhaps there has been a misunderstanding?"
He turned his 'concerned' gaze on Lloyd. "Nephew, are you certain of their intentions? My sources," he gestured vaguely, implying a network of reliable informants, "suggest these young men were merely… assisting the young ladies day before yesterday. Offering directions, perhaps ensuring their safety in a rough area. A misunderstanding, easily misinterpreted by an outsider."
Lloyd nearly choked on the audacity. Assisting? By cornering them and sneering?
Rubel pressed on smoothly. "And today? Perhaps they merely wished to speak with you, nephew. To clarify yesterday's unfortunate incident. And in your… haste? Your understandable apprehension? You lashed out without proper judgment, inflicting grievous harm." He shook his head sadly. "A tragic overreaction."
He turned back to Roy, his expression earnest. "Brother, I took the liberty of locating witnesses. Individuals present nearby during that day's initial encounter. Perhaps their testimony can shed light, clear up this unfortunate confusion." He gestured towards the door. "With your permission?"
Roy hesitated for only a fraction of a second before giving a curt nod. Rubel opened the study door, and five figures shuffled nervously into the imposing room. Lloyd recognized them instantly. They had been among the onlookers yesterday, lurking near the edges of the small crowd that had gathered after the slap. Their faces were pale, their eyes darting nervously between Roy, Rubel, and Lloyd. They looked like what they were: low-level informants or easily intimidated citizens, bought or coerced.
"Please," Rubel addressed them gently, his tone reassuring, coaxing. "Tell the Arch Duke what you witnessed yesterday near Weaver's Alley. Did you see these young men," he subtly indicated the direction of the alley, "harassing those young ladies?"
The first witness, a thin man with shifty eyes, shook his head vigorously. "N-no, Your Excellency, Your Grace! They was just talkin' to 'em! Friendly like!"
"Helping them, I think!" added a stout woman beside him, twisting her apron nervously. "Looked like they was just offerin' help!"
The other three mumbled agreement, painting a picture of innocent interaction, of helpful youths tragically misunderstood by the aggressive young lord. They avoided Lloyd's gaze entirely.
Rubel turned back to Roy, his expression a mask of vindicated sorrow. "You see, brother? A simple misunderstanding, escalated tragically. Lloyd, nephew," he fixed his gaze on Lloyd again, the underlying message clear: I have witnesses. I have control. Your word against theirs. "Surely now you see your error?"
And then, Lloyd started to laugh.