Nineteen - Trial

SINISTER PALACE

All Drax household staff grooming the front yard watched the unfamiliar Rolls Royce driving towards the main door of the chateau. A handsome gentleman in a suit with visible stubbles on his face disembarked. He is the same age as Hector. Felipe warmly greeted the powerful visitor.

"Councilman De Lutherbergh, sir. What a pleasant day to have you!" Felipe led the emotionless gentleman to the newly furnished drawing-room.

"Who is left in charge of the Drax?" Magnus strictly asked as he scanned the entire room.

"Don Hector left for New York a few days ago, sir, so Don Luthor is handling everything."

"I see," Magnus sat on the Victorian couch. "Summoned him for me, if you please."

"Right away, monsieur."

Felipe Acosta hurriedly went to Luthor's office. Maids instantly stepped aside due to his alarming velocity. Luckily, Luthor was on his way out to the hallway, almost bumping Felipe. The young man immediately inquired through his curious eyebrow and sharp eyes.

"A visitor, sir. Councilman De Lutherbergh."

"High Order?" Luthor anxiously asked.

"Oui," The old man nodded, still catching his breath. "He demands an audience, sir."

Luthor was raised in such an upbringing that will prepare him for these dire circumstances, but having it truly happens does not give him any control. Hector handles all the social hypocrisy in the family in which he is brilliantly handling until Luthor's affairs. He handles more personal matters that require his physical intervention.

Left with no other choices, a councilman should not be ignored nor be treated as low, he followed Felipe. He stopped in front of the hallway mirrors and checked himself. Fake enough. Felipe deliberately coughed. Motioned the door for him.

Magnus glanced at the door as Felipe came inside and announced his host, "Don Luthor Hubert Drax."

He stood to greet the young man. They professionally introduced themselves to each other. Luthor then offered the same seat Magnus was already occupying.

"To what do I owe this unexpected visit, my lord?" Luthor respectfully asked.

"You may be quite aware of your family's extracurricular activities," Magnus dropped a judging look to the proud young man. "The council had an emergency meeting. We have unanimously decided what sanctions your family must face. The Drax house has aggressively attacked a regent, Viktor Samira. Not to mention an ancient house in the organization."

"I'm sorry, my lord, but is there any proof of our involvement? And we never received any letter pertaining to any meetings being held." Luthor defended.

"The meeting was only for the inner council." Magnus mockingly stated, aggravating the man across him. "The Constantine has decided to withdraw the Morningstar Corporation from the ward of Drax la familia. All the assets that have been provided to the Drax will also be withdrawn. As a courtesy to your house, you may keep the Sinister Palace."

Luthor was not able to react. Dumbfounded. Without the Morningstar Corporation's financial support, the Drax company will be lost to Alderige. Morningstar Corporation was Hector's highest pride. A weakness they never foresaw. He held the side pillow beside him tightly.

"You cannot do that. My lord, I..." The young man felt for the first time in his life, a total loss of control. A feeling he once felt a very long time ago.

"The Alderige is kind enough to let your family keep the remaining ownership rights unless you decided to wage another unacceptable venture."

"Our involvement was never proven. We will demand a trial for this. We can't just be condemned without proper proceedings!" Luthor could not help but raised his tone. A gesture his superior did not like.

"I don't find your tone appropriate to the person you are talking to, young Drax," Magnus warned.

"Forgive me for speaking out of the line, my lord," Luthor bowed. "My only concern is our house should have the liberty to clear these charges. We once seated in the outer circle."

"I believe that time has passed when your men deliberately barged inside Imperium and wreaked havoc. An advancement against an ancient house has grave consequences," Magnus fixed his clothes and offered a handshake to Luthor. "And, please remember your place in the council. You may consider this a little warning."

***

HADES MANSION

Hendrix Dufur stood outside the oldest house in the council. Though the most lethal resident has died, the aura of the mansion did not fail to intimidate him. A person with his dark purpose faces greater danger. Adding to his anxiety was as ancient as the house, Mr. Smith. The Alderige's butler stood stoically in front of him, siphoning his courage.

"Good morning to you, sir. Is Ms. Alderige here? I'm doctor Hendrix Dufur. I'm here for Ms. Alderige's---"

"Psychological evaluation? To see if she is still fit to run the company her family has established?" Mr. Smith continued Dufur's thoughts. "She's here. You may come in if you dare."

Dufur was glued to his post. He did not expect such treatment from a mere employee. Seeing the old man made him retrieved his thoughts. As a person whose purpose is to pin down an Alderige, Dufur was not prepared to face the hostility of the household.

He was led to the garden area where he was left by himself. The maids were professional enough to offer him refreshments but he wondered if those have something else. He politely smiled and declined to the young maid who was offering a glass of juice.

"A Samira." A voice pulled Dufur out of his head. He turned around to see a gorgeous lady in a white dress wearing black indoor stilettos. Aberdeen elegantly walked towards the garden. Took a seat across Dufur but did not offer any handshake. Pure blooded or not, she is an Alderige and above the evaluating gentleman.

"I did not expect an ally to be checking my well-being in a not-so-friendly way," Aberdeen crossed her legs, removed her Gucci sunglasses.

"Standard operating procedure, ma'am." Dufur was obliged to address his superior. "It would be wised to send someone from a neutral house."

"A neutral house? So Viktor has been reading Iñigo's playbook." Aberdeen snickered. "Enough of that. You may begin."

Like a hawk watching her prey, Aberdeen watched how Dufur nervously prepared his questions. The outgoing gentleman never felt so low at that moment. Finally, he pulled out the correct paper.

"Okay, let's start. How have you been doing since your, mother's funeral?" Dufur courageously asked.

"I'm doing fine, actually, until today," Aberdeen replied with sass.

Dufur pretended to clear his throat. "I see. How do you feel about your mother's death? According to your records, you ran away from home when you were a teenager. You said to your therapist, you wanted to get away from your mother."

"Oh, yes. I still vividly remember that moment. We all experienced that phase, doctor, didn't we? Trying to run away," Aberdeen flipped her hair. "To answer your question, I was sad of course. It was my mother. I don't find it necessary to ask."

"Do you think she deserves to die?" Dufur countered the arrogance. A tricky question.

"No, everyone deserves to live. She's old. Eighty-five is such a privilege," Aberdeen leaned forward startling Dufur. "How about you doctor, do you think so?"

"I'm asking the questions here, ma'am," Dufur answered with forced politeness.

"It's just a question doctor. Your answer will not be recorded nor will be used against you. So I don't see any danger with an honest comment," Aberdeen smirked. She was prepared, very much so.

***

St. James was surprised to see a familiar face talking to her pretentious aunt. He dug deep into his mind. The gentleman was the last person technical sergeant Newland has visited. He rushed to the garden but Mr. Smith stood on his way.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To save that clueless bitch."

"Clueless? Aberdeen is quite aware of who her visitor is. A Samira horseman," Mr. Smith peeked through the window and observed the conversation from there.

"Samira horseman is evaluating Aberdeen? What on earth is going on? I thought Lord Viktor is on our side!" St. James shot dagger looks to the oblivious gentleman.

"Not everyone is your friend. Some are just afraid to be your enemies." Mr. Smith muttered and continue strolling through the vast hallway.

"And what if she fails this?" St. James worriedly asked. No matter how he takes himself out of his family affairs, certain things bring him back to the responsibility he was trying to avoid.

"Then you'll lose the underground society," Mr. Smith pitifully looked at Aberdeen. "The fate of your house lies to the very person who was not even part of it in the first place."