Episode 9

Chapter 1: All liars go to hell

"Milady!" Monisha's eyes fluttered open, and she turned to Albert, who sat opposite her in the carriage. The soft creaking of the carriage's leather seats and the gentle rocking motion as it came to a stop filled the air.

Her ears rang a bit until the sound of their surroundings filled in. The distant chatter of the guests, the clanging of swords, and the neighing of horses created a lively atmosphere.

"We've arrived at our destination," Albert announced, his voice low and smooth.

Monisha sat straight and peeked out the window. A few strands of her hair fell over her pale face, and the soft sunlight danced across her features. She had her lips painted red and a faint touch of black around her eyes.

The sweet scent of her perfume wafted through the air, mingling with the smell of leather and wood from the carriage. "You seem tired, milady." Albert looked concerned about her appearance. "We could leave if you're fatigued…"

"Forget it, I'm here anyway, so I might as well stay." Monisha interrupted him and signaled him to open the door. The sound of the door creaking open and the rustling of Albert's clothes as he stepped out filled the air.

An hour earlier:

"Lady Ruth, you look beautiful." A soldier who stood beside the woman in a midnight dress praised, his voice filled with admiration. Other soldiers who were also in the room gazed at her beauty, their eyes wide with wonder.

Nicholas and Fraden stepped in, dressed for the occasion. They both wore red russets adorned with badges and medals, underneath which were their velvet pants and black boots. The sound of their boots clicking on the marble floor echoed through the room.

"Wow, I never knew our higher-ups were this gorgeous." A female soldier nudged Ruth with approving eyes, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'd rather not be here." Fraden complained, shooting a glance at the man who had forced him out of bed. Nicholas gently brushed a finger over his waxed hair and smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement.

"You seem proud, Commander." Ruth teased, peeking behind them, hoping someone had arrived.

"He's not done dressing up; the last attire wasn't his size, so he had to wait long for a matching size." Fraden explained calmly, while Nicholas nodded, his eyes never leaving Ruth's face.

"Aren't you guys supposed to be at the gate?" A young man walked over to them, his auburn hair cut in a bob. "You don't want to be queried, do you?"

"Thank you for the reminder, Henry," Fraden rolled his eyes and sighed, ready to leave. "Your boss is still getting dressed."

"Captain is never late; you'll see he's probably waiting for you guys at the gate." The soldier took a stance with his chest out proudly, standing tall. Fraden scoffed and left, while Nicholas grinned, happy as he looked forward to the ball.

Ruth waved off her female subordinates and left as the girls squealed, their high-pitched voices echoing through the hallway.

They all walked past the garden towards the huge gates that led to the barracks. As they walked, soldiers who passed by marveled at their appearance, their eyes wide with admiration.

"I must be a head-turner." Ruth praised herself, her voice filled with confidence. "Can you see the eyes on me?"

"Stop getting ahead of yourself; they're all staring at the hot gentlemen, not the out-of-place lady." Fraden smirked slightly and walked majestically, his boots clicking on the stone path. "I am from an elite family, you know. It's only natural people stare."

"And he said she's getting ahead of herself." Nicholas shook his head, chuckling softly.

The soldiers stationed at the barracks' gate bowed to them as they left, their armor creaking as they moved.

"I wonder how Lawrence would look in his red russet." Ruth squealed, her cheeks reddening at the thought. Both men rolled their eyes, knowing Lawrence wasn't interested in the ball, so he might end up attending in his uniform.

They all arrived at the gate, a few soldiers were already in position. There was a man standing in the crowd; he wore a black russet amongst the rest of the colors. Ruth could tell by his stature who it was.

"Lawrence," she called, as he hurried towards her. Lawrence turned to the voice slowly, his eyes glowing a bit brighter than usual. He seemed angry and almost deadly to approach.

"Ruth?" He arched a brow as she walked over to him. He stared at her outfit and her styled hair, her skin brighter than usual. He tilted his head, and a small smile played on his lips, his eyes gradually regaining their shade.

"You seem to be contesting for the hand of one of the princes." Ruth blushed, her cheeks warming to a soft pink. She didn't even know what to take his words as, a compliment or teasing.

The sound of laughter and chatter from the crowd created a lively atmosphere, but Ruth's focus was solely on Lawrence.

"You look…" she gaped, her eyes wide with wonder, as she stared at the all-black attire he wore. His hair wasn't waxed, but neatly combed, and his badges stood out more due to the black background of his russet. The scent of his cologne wafted through the air, a subtle, masculine aroma that caught Ruth's attention.

"Like an elite from Valdis." Fraden blurted out behind Ruth, his voice filled with admiration, as he also marveled at Lawrence's appearance. Nicholas was also dumbfounded, his eyes wide with surprise. They had expected Lawrence to look good, but not this good. The sound of their collective gasp filled the air, followed by a murmur of agreement from the crowd.

Lawrence felt a bit uncomfortable as the crowd stared at him, their eyes fixed on his attire. He shifted his weight, his boots creaking softly on the stone path.

The sound of clinking metal and the rustling of clothes filled the air as the crowd moved, their attention still fixed on Lawrence.

"The guest would be arriving soon, let's take our position," he announced, his voice firm and commanding, cutting through the chatter of the crowd.

The trumpets blared, their loud, clear notes echoing through the premises as the carriages of the guests rode in.

Each guest stepped out with their family and bowed to the king, who stood at the elevated platform to welcome them. The sound of rustling clothes and murmured greetings filled the air.

Behind the king stood his ministers, their faces stern and formal. All soldiers bowed as well, their armor creaking as they paid their respects. After all the guests had stepped in, a black carriage rode in, bearing the crest of the Moralé's family.

The king stepped down from the elevated platform, his eyes filled with genuine admiration. General Storm stood behind the king, his eyes fixed intently on the carriage.

The doorman quickly opened the door, and Albert stepped out first, dressed in sleek white and black butler attire. His hat shielded him from the dim rays of the sun, casting a shadow over his face. He bowed to the king, who stood a few miles away from them, and then stretched out his hand to the carriage.

Monisha took his hand and stepped out of the carriage majestically. The weather turned gloomy, and the crowd grew wary, sensing an aura they had never felt before. The air was thick with tension, and the smell of impending rain hung heavy over the grounds.

She had a large red hood over her head and body, completely covering her gown. The king bowed to her, and so did all the soldiers. The sound of their armor creaking and their swords clanking against their legs filled the air.

Monisha had a dim, uninterested gaze, as though she would fall asleep from boredom. Lawrence didn't bow to her; instead, he had a stoic expression on his face. His eyes glared at her with a mixed uncertainty in them. Monisha's lips curved, and her eyes trailed towards him, but stopped midway.

Her body felt numb, and an excruciating pain filled her veins. She turned to her stomach and was dazed to find a sword piercing her abdomen. The sound of her gasp filled the air, and the smell of blood wafted through the crowd. Her hood slowly fell off her head, revealing her pale skin and ethereal beauty. In front of her was a woman, a bit older than her in appearance.

"I can finally end you, murderer," the woman spat, her voice venomous.

Everyone gasped, and all the soldiers surrounded them, General Storm taking position. The sound of guns being cocked and swords being drawn filled the air.

Tension crawled into the air, and fear hung heavy on everyone's throat. Lawrence didn't flinch from where he stood, his eyes fixed intently on the woman who held the sword, he was skeptical about her sudden appearance.

"Get away from the heiress," General Storm commanded, his voice firm and authoritative. All soldiers pointed their guns towards her, ready to shoot.

The woman looked ragged, dressed in dirty attire, her hair messy with twigs sticking out. She stared at Monisha with a fierce determination to murder. "Now you'll die," the woman screamed, her voice echoing through the grounds.

Monisha stared at her blankly, Albert about to intervene, but Monisha raised her hand gently. "No one moves, unless you wish to join her."

The woman smirked, her eyes glinting with malice. "The sword sticking in you is silver, not just that, it's coated in wolverine poison. You're definitely going to die."

Monisha seemed to be muffling a laugh as she listened to the woman's gibberish. "You don't say…" she hummed, her voice dripping with amusement.

"Milady, please let the military take over the situation; we'll definitely punish her," General Storm pleaded, attempting to walk towards Monisha. However, he felt his body stiffen like a statue. He looked up to see Albert shaking his head, his expression a subtle warning.

The woman's anger boiled over, her voice echoing through the castle grounds. "You murdered my father, burned him alive for no reason, and the court said nothing."

Monisha tilted her head, her voice calm and curious. "Who's your father?"

The woman's manic laughter sent shivers down the spines of the onlookers. "You don't even remember. Minister Gabriel of the court."

Monisha's eyes widened, a hint of surprise flickering across her face. "Ahhhh!!! That father, he was the only person I killed since I came here. Isn't that cool?"

The woman's eyes blazed with fury, and she pierced the sword deeper into Monisha's abdomen. Blood spilled from Monisha's mouth, and she heaved heavily, her eyes trailing the sword. The sound of her labored breathing filled the air, and the metallic scent of blood wafted through the crowd.

"You heartless being," the woman spat, her voice venomous.

Monisha retorted, her voice calm and collected, "I am actually. But you know, you should really make sure your story adds up."

The woman's eyes darted wildly, her face pale and sweaty. Her grip on the sword loosened, and she fell to the ground, gasping for air. The sound of her ragged breathing and the rustling of her clothes as she fell filled the air.

Monisha staggered back, then gently pulled the sword out of her body. The sound of the sword sliding out of her flesh was followed by a faint gurgling noise as blood spilled from the wound. "Minister Gabriel was a greedy man who trafficked women in Cerdonia to foreign countries," she revealed, her voice calm and detached. The woman's eyes widened in shock, her cover blown.

"Do you know his capital?" Monisha asked calmly, flames slowly engulfing her clothes and the spots where her blood was spilled.

The crackling of the flames and the acrid smell of burning fabric filled the air. She gazed at the woman darkly, her eyes turned flamey red with rage evident in them. "His daughters were the first to be trafficked."

The crowd was shocked by the revelation, even the king unaware of this. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd, and the sound of shuffling feet echoed through the grounds. "He always buried his daughters, claiming they were ill, when in truth he had sentenced them to rot overseas." The woman shook in fear, already seeing the end of this.

"So, is that despicable man your father?" Monisha asked, her voice dripping with malice. The woman stuttered, trying to speak, but Monisha's gaze silenced her.

"There's nothing as interesting as being caught. You only have two options when caught lying: lie or come clean. In your case, either way, you'll die."

General Storm pleaded, "Milady, please let the military take it from here. You can go in."

Monisha's eyes never left the woman. "The most ecstatic part of this derailed ball, and you expect me to leave?" She commanded, "Kneel."

The woman knelt before her, kissing the ground. The sound of her lips touching the cold stone echoed through the air. "I beg you, forgive me."

Monisha asked, "Did you get paid for life insurance?" The woman raised her head, meeting Monisha's eyes. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she realized her fate.

Monisha held the woman's face gently, rubbing her cheek to remove the dirt. "Too bad for you."

Monisha's thumbs poked the woman's eyes, stabbing them at once. The woman's scream filled the air, a blood-curdling sound that sent shivers down the spines of the onlookers.

Ruth looked away in fear and discomfort. Albert felt a bit pitiful for the woman, who had no idea she was being used.

Blood rolled down Monisha's fingers, staining the brick floor of the castle. The metallic scent of blood filled the air, mingling with the acrid smell of burning fabric. Fire engulfed the woman's dead body, her skin falling off, and her bones peeking out of her melting flesh until there was nothing left. The crackling of the flames and the sound of sizzling flesh filled the air, a gruesome ending to the woman's life.

"All liars go to hell." Monisha's voice echoed in the air like a note on a harp.

Leif stood beside his father dazed by the scene, he felt a feeling boiling in his guts as rage consumed him. "Have she no conscience father?"

"The woman attempted treason, either way she would have died. My hands and that of the heiress are no different in in acting power." Sirius had a stern expression on his face. Although he would have wished a better farewell for the woman, he couldn't help a person that had already dug a pit for herself.

"That was quite the show, wasn't it?" Monisha leisurely walked past the bones and strode towards the king.

"Welcome Lady Monisha Moralé." Sirius bowed and as did all the onlookers.

The Ballroom.

The Grand ballroom was decorated with intricate tapestries and elegant rugs that muffled the sound of footsteps, creating an intimate ambiance. The center of the room was an elevated platform, where a few guests danced to the melody played by the instrumentalists. The sweet, mournful notes of the violins and the soft thrumming of the harp filled the room, accompanied by the occasional clinking of glasses and muted laughter.

The scent of freshly brewed wine, with hints of oak and berries, wafted through the air, mingling with the aroma of delicacies prepared in the kitchen: roasting meats, steaming vegetables, and sweet pastries. The combined smells filled the room, giving it a warm, inviting feeling.

At the north wing of the ballroom stood an elevated platform, one that was much higher than the rest of the room. The king sat majestically on his throne, the soft creaking of the leather upholstery accompanying his movements.

By his right sat Monisha, who lazily gazed at the crowd, her eyes sparkling in the light of the crystal chandeliers. Albert quietly watched the ball with a blank expression, his eyes fixed on some point across the room.

Leif and Magnus sat by the King's left, they were quiet and entranced by the liveliness of the ball, the rustling of their formal attire the only sound accompanying their movements. Leif often glared at the heiress with a stern and vengeful look.

"If you keep that up, you might end up like the person who died." Magnus warned subtly as he sighed, the soft whoosh of air escaping his lips.

"That woman is beyond merciless and cruel." Leif retorted, he gently raised his hand to his eyes and his face formed lines as he frowned. "A human was set ablaze till her flesh melted and turned to ash and bones."

"Let's not judge yet, we have no idea why the victim was killed." Magnus replied calmly and took a glimpse at the heiress, he could vividly remember the scene a few hours ago and it weighed on his conscience a bit. No matter the crime that was a brutal punishment.

"Milady, you should at least smile." Albert whispered to her, her face was completely dim, anyone could tell she's annoyed.

"Does it change the fact they are all in for my wealth?" She retorted, her voice low and husky, like the soft purring of a cat. Her eyes trailed the entire ball and her blood boiled when it finally stopped at a fat pig(Jasper) sitted on the ministers table. Regardless of his round figure, the man still loaded himself with meat, the clinking of his utensils against the plate and the sound of his contented sighs filling the air.

"Disgusting." Monisha spat, her voice dripping with disdain, and rolled her eyes, the soft whisper of her skirts accompanying her movement.

Amongst the guest table was the table designated for the military personnels. The clinking of utensils against plates and the muted hum of conversation filled the air.

Lawrence stared at the meal served to him, the aroma of roasted meats and steaming vegetables wafting up to tease his senses, he didn't seem fazed by the food though.

Ruth sipped from the glass cup served with wine, the soft glug of the liquid echoing through the air. "This is delicious, try some Lawrence."

Fraden couldn't take his eyes off the heiress. His fist were balled on the table as he suppressed his seething anger, the soft creaking of his leather gloves a testament to his tension. "How can the king welcome her after what conspired at the gates?" Nicholas who was enjoying his meal turned to his colleague with a skeptical look.

"The heiress protected herself, sadly she killed the assassin in a brutal and uncomfortable manner." Nicholas replied calmly, his voice a gentle contrast to the soft clinking of glasses and utensils. "The assassin killed herself, she was probably sent by one of the ministers in the inner court."

"Regardless…" Lawrence was the one to chip in this time. "No one should be killed in such a way, it obviously depicted the heart of heiress is no more than that of a beast." He turned to the woman who was lazily reading the faces of the ministers who greeted her, the soft rustling of her skirts accompanying her movements.

The music gradually tuned down as the king stood to give a toast, the soft scraping of his chair against the floor echoing through the hall. The crowd all deviated their attention from their jolly and focused on the king, the room falling silent except for the occasional creaking of the old wooden floor.

"I commend you all for coming to the ball, this event was prepared specially for my son, Leif." He turned to his sons, the soft beam of the chandeliers casting a warm glow over the scene.

Magnus smiled mildly, knowing fully well that the ball wasn't about him but Leif. It wasn't hard to put in the pieces, his father never had the zeal to memorize the day he was born.

"He had made me really proud, earning a name befitting a ruler. Leif had accomplished astounding things overseas and as a father, I am proud."

Monisha sighed internally and gradually glanced at the princes. Leif was sitted in between Magnus and the throne; A disrespect in hierarchy.

Monisha then glanced at the brownie who seemed hurt by his father's actions but not completely. As though he was in pain for another reason.

"Albert…" Monisha hummed to her butler. Albert bowed to her fully attentive.

"Remind me to treat my children equally. It seems there are certain things parents do tha