The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven-Chapter 611: The Crown’s Punishment

[Third Person].

The arrival of Oscar Elrod at the Fellowes’s Residence was an unexpected visit.

Every servant in the household froze at his sudden, unexpected presence.

Reginald, who had been seated in his study nursing a glass of whiskey despite the scorching afternoon sun, stiffened. His jaw tightened, as if understanding something amiss.

A few moments later, a servant hurried in, pale. "Sir... the Royal Adviser is here."

Reginald rose slowly. "Let him in."

---

Oscar did not come to the Fellowes’s Residence alone. Two royal guards stood behind him, armoured, silent, and immovable. The sight alone was enough to turn the air thick.

Reginald forced composure onto his face as he stepped into the main sitting room. "Oscar," he greeted, though the title Your Grace died in his throat.

Oscar did not bow to him either. He did not smile as he unrolled a sealed scroll bearing the royal crest.

"By order of His Majesty, King Draven Oatrun of Stormveil."

The words echoed in the sitting area. Servants lined the walls, and not one dared breathe. But Reginald’s pride forced him to remain standing.

Then, Oscar’s gaze lifted calmly. "Kneel."

The word landed like a snowball.

For one suspended second, Reginald considered refusing. But the guards shifted slightly behind Oscar, forcing him to swallow his fury and kneel before his servants. Before his household, and before the man who used to answer to him.

Then, Oscar began reading.

"Reginald Fellowes is hereby found guilty of dividing the Council of Elders, fostering discord within the royal court, and deliberately challenging the authority of the Crown..."

Reginald’s hands clenched into fists against the floor.

"...He openly disregarded the newly crowned King and Queen, and was absent from the Coronation Ceremony without formal explanation or royal permission..."

Reginald’s shoulders went rigid. Now, even if he was in doubt before as to Oscar’s sudden visit, now, he knew what today’s business was all about.

"...Evidence confirms continued attempts to undermine the Crown and destabilize Stormveil’s governance..."

A faint tremor passed through his jaw, but Oscar did not pause.

"...Therefore, by royal authority, Reginald Fellowes is permanently expelled from the Council of Elders. He is stripped of all voting rights, advisory privileges, and any claim to leadership within Stormveil..."

The servants began to tremble. Their master was being dealt a heavy punishment; what then would be their fate?

"...Furthermore, the noble status of the Fellowes family is hereby revoked. The house of Fellowes shall no longer bear noble distinction under the Crown..."

This was the final blow that broke the camel’s back. Reginald’s breath faltered. His family name was gone.

Oscar’s voice remained steady.

"...Effective immediately, Reginald Fellowes is placed under house arrest for a period of three months. He shall not step beyond the four corners of the Fellowes estate. Any violation shall be treated as treason."

The room fell into suffocating silence.

Oscar finished up. "This decree is final."

Then, he rolled the scroll back up and stepped forward, placing both the Royal Decree and the expulsion letter in front of Reginald.

"His Majesty extends mercy by allowing your household to remain intact."

Mercy? If anything, Reginald felt bile rise in his throat.

Oscar stepped back. "Rise."

Reginald did not move for a moment, then slowly, he stood. His eyes were bloodshot, but he said nothing.

Meanwhile, Oscar bowed, not to Reginald, but to the Crown’s authority, and then turned to leave with the guards who had come with him.

The front doors shut behind them.

The heavy, uncomfortable silence broke in the sitting room as Reginald flung the scroll across the room. The parchment hit the wall and fell.

Next, he hurled the expulsion letter after it. A vase shattered, and a curtain lightly fluttered.

The servants scattered immediately. Some fled quietly through side corridors. Others pressed themselves against walls, praying to remain invisible.

Reginald paced like a caged beast. "They dare—" His voice cracked with rage. "They dare strip me?"

His breathing grew heavier. ’Draven—that ungrateful pup. He had the audacity to humiliate me, forcing me to kneel in my own home, before my servants.’

His fingers trembled with fury.

At the same time, Wanda stepped into the sitting room. She had heard the commotion and rushed out of her bedroom as soon as she could. Though her injuries had nearly healed, she still moved stiffly.

"Father?" she asked, looking confused.

Reginald did not look at her. He was pacing the length of the sitting room, breathing hard.

Though Wanda was still ignorant of what had transpired moments before she arrived, she was lucky her father was too pissed with Draven to take out his aggression on her.

Just then, Wanda’s eyes fell to the floor. She saw the scroll with the royal seal, then the envelope, and frowned. Slowly, she bent and picked up the expulsion letter first.

Her eyes moved across the page. In less than ten seconds, her face drained of colour.

"No..." Her fingers trembled.

As if her palm burned, she swiftly dropped the letter and seized the Royal Decree scroll. As she read, her breath grew uneven as she absorbed those unsettling words; ’Stripped of nobility. House arrest. Permanent expulsion.’

Her lips parted. The room tilted, she staggered slightly and grasped the arm of a chair to steady herself. Tears spilt from her eyes before she could stop them.

Then, her voice broke into a whisper. "We... we are no longer nobles?"

Reginald stopped pacing, but didn’t bother replying to her. That silence was answer enough.

Wanda’s knees nearly gave out. All her life, all her pride, her status, her name—everything was gone overnight.

She covered her mouth as sobs escaped her. She could no longer stand among noble women or lift her head at gatherings; she was worth more wearing her name like a crown.

’Queen Meredith.’

The title burned in her mind. She collapsed onto the sofa, crying openly now. Her father just stormed past her without a word, disappearing down the corridor. Then, within a few seconds, the door to his study slammed.

Wanda sat there alone, feeling disgraced and reduced to nothing. After a long while, she wiped her tears with trembling hands. Her expression changed with something colder.

She pushed herself up, limped to her bedroom, and, inside, grabbed her phone. Her fingers shook as she dialled a contact.

The line connected almost immediately.

"Levi..." she choked on her fresh tears.

Her brother’s voice came through, confused. "Wanda? What happened?"

"Come home."

"What? Why? Wanda, what’s wrong?"

Her voice cracked. "Draven."

"Draven? What happened to him? Tell me—"

"Just come home," she said, and quickly ended the call as the hatred in her heart hardened.