Gunmage-Chapter 256: Tool of speech

"...Nobody leaves until I figure out what the hell is actually going on,"

Selaphiel declared, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. She stood with squared shoulders, chin slightly raised, trying her best to appear composed and authoritative.

In most circumstances, it would have been the correct move—decisive, commanding. But considering the status of the man she was addressing, her timing was dangerously misguided.

Even so, no one blamed her for the misstep. It was an impulsive outburst, driven by emotion rather than calculation. And who could fault her for that?

After all, they’d just been subjected to a flurry of cryptic insinuations and half-formed revelations—pieces of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit.

Secrets had been spilled, vague implications about her father, and murky commentary about the Von Heim family legacy.

And just as they were beginning to register the weight of it all, the two people who had ignited the conversation were now casually excusing themselves, as though none of it mattered.

Selaphiel wasn’t alone in her frustration. The room was restless. Heads turned, brows furrowed, fingers tapped anxiously. And it wasn’t just the Von Heim children who felt this way.

Others, outsiders even, had caught fragments of terms like "broader perspectives," "greater threats," and "positioning for leverage," all without a shred of proper context.

Lord Vaire, ever composed, glanced briefly at Selaphiel, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

In that moment, she realized her mistake. Her lips parted slightly, a silent apology beginning to form, but the man offered a gentle smile before she could speak.

"No need,"

He said.

"I understand. You’re confused. Rightfully so."

His gaze swept toward Lugh, then over to Cassius.

"I’m quite certain your brother here can explain things better than I ever could. And if that’s not sufficient, my nephew Cassius can help fill in the gaps."

He paused, placing weight on his cane.

"Well then. I’ll be taking my leave."

Selaphiel nodded out of reflex, a reluctant sign of appreciation, and Lord Vaire exited the room at an unhurried pace, his cane tapping softly against the marble floor.

As the door eased shut behind him, Lugh tilted his head and spoke aloud, his tone unusually musing.

"If his bones are made of iron... why does he use a cane?"

Several heads snapped toward him.

"Wait, what?"

Someone asked in disbelief.

"His bones are made of iron?"

A few of the newer arrivals echoed the question in various tones of confusion.

Robert answered without missing a beat.

"I told you, man—maintenance issues."

Selaphiel chimed in, her tone analytical.

"Probably not. It’s more likely misdirection."

All eyes turned toward her.

"What?"

She said, folding her arms.

"You act weak when you’re not. Makes enemies underestimate you—opens up room for critical miscalculations and—hey! Stop changing the subject, Lugh!"

She stepped forward, glaring at her brother.

"Explain everything that just happened. Start with my question."

Before Lugh could answer, Mirelle jumped in.

"What ’objective’ did Lord Vaire have?"

She asked sharply.

Lugh’s reply came smoothly, his tone as level as ever.

"I suspect,"

He began,

"he just wanted to see what perspective I held on certain matters—and to subtly influence me, if he thought it necessary."

"Certain matters?"

Someone echoed.

"Influence?"

Selaphiel, ever perceptive, saw where things were heading. The conversation was beginning to branch wildly, everyone chasing different threads at once.

If they kept this up, they’d be here all day, with nothing actually resolved.

"Alright, everyone calm down,"

She said.

She reached into her hair and pulled out a silver pin, holding it up between two fingers for all to see.

"This,"

She declared,

"is now the tool of speech. Only the person holding the pin gets to speak. We’ll take turns, rotating it around so everyone gets a chance."

A collective groan rippled through the room.

"I can’t believe you’re using something from that children’s ga—"

"Tool of speech!"

She barked, cutting off the protest with an intense glare.

Instant silence.

Then, without taking the first turn herself, she handed the pin to the person sitting beside her.

A subtle but deliberate gesture—putting others before herself, calming dissent before it could form.

Once again, Lugh found himself quietly impressed. It seemed Aveline wasn’t the only political mind in the family after all.

The person who received the pin was someone Lugh didn’t recognize—a young man with a cautious look in his eyes.

"What did you mean by him ’trying to influence you’?"

The guy asked, his tone careful.

Lugh reached out as the pin was passed to him, noting that even this unfamiliar face took the symbolic tool very seriously.

"It’s exactly what it sounds like,"

Lugh explained.

"Subtle cues. Psychological manipulation. I’m sure some of you have encountered that sort of thing before."

Seeing mostly blank expressions in response, he continued.

"Lord Vaire didn’t know whether I already had a particular idea in my head. So, he tried to place one there."

He stopped there, declining to elaborate, and passed the pin to the next speaker—a boy he did recognize. Jamin, not Ben.

Jamin asked,

"And what exactly are the ideas he wanted to plant in you?"

Taking the pin again, Lugh replied,

"How much danger the kingdom is actually in."

The room fell still. Several people exchanged uneasy glances. His answer had landed hard.

Lugh passed the pin along to a girl who spoke next, her question cutting in a different direction.

"And how exactly did you know he was trying to manipulate you?"

A few people groaned or sighed quietly. That was the flaw in this sort of system—important questions risked being buried beneath less urgent ones. But rules were rules.

Lugh answered evenly.

"For one, he called me the spitting image of my father."

That earned him a round of puzzled looks.

He turned to Mirelle and tossed her the pin.

"Hey, Mirelle? Am I the spitting image of Dad?"

She caught it and answered with a shrug.

"Before you left, you looked quite a bit like him. Or so Mum said. But now? You look... different. Still some similarities, sure, but it’s small stuff. Dad never looked so—ugh—it’s like you had puberty on your side, plus a whole year at a luxury spa. How is that even possible? What sorcer—"

Before she could finish, Selaphiel snatched the pin from her hands and shot her a sharp look. Then she tossed the pin back to Lugh.

He caught it and spoke again.

"As you’ve heard, I do retain some resemblance, but calling me a spitting image is a stretch.

I assume Lord Vaire was trying to leverage an emotional connection—maybe remind me of who my father was, soften me up.

That, along with several other things I don’t have time to break down now, is why I believe he was trying to manipulate me."

He handed off the pin again, mentally bracing himself. Judging by the number of people in the room, this was going to take a while.

The next speaker scrambled to catch the pin, then raised his voice with more force than was necessary.

"Explain to us the danger the kingdom is in."

His question boomed through the chamber, snapping the room into sharper focus. Around him, others nodded and murmured in agreement.

Lugh clicked his tongue in irritation.

Read 𝓁atest chapters at fr(e)ewebnov𝒆l.com Only