Chapter 4 An Heavy Price To Pay

The crowd's murmurs fell silent as all eyes turned to the tall, formidable figure who had just stepped out of the sleek Magnus Urus. Morgana Reeves stood tall, her piercing gaze scanning the scene. Her presence alone commanded respect, and everyone trembled at her sight. Julian and Juliet froze the moment the she stepped out of the car. She carried herself with an authority that made everyone hold their breath. The way people shifted, whispering nervously, made it clear she wasn't someone to mess with. Julian's confidence crumbled in an instant.

He stumbled back, his face turned pale as he realized whoever this woman was, she wasn't here to play. Juliet, on the other hand, refused to back down. Her heart raced, but she quickly masked it with a smug expression. Straightening her posture, she raised her chin, determined not to look weak. Julian's face twisted in confusion, as he whispered to Juliet, "Who the hell is she?" "Probably another fool looking for trouble," she hissed, with her lips curling into a sneer. Determined to maintain her dominance, she squared her shoulders and began marching toward Morgana. But before she could say a word, a voice from the crowd cut through the tense silence. "The car... it has the badge of the Supreme General, the Protector of Drakmont!" The whole arena was gripped by tension, the kind that makes people hold their breath without realizing it. "Did you hear that? She said 'General'!" a man whispered to his wife, his tone mixed with disbelief and curiosity. Another man shook his head vehemently. "It can't be Asher Blackmoor! He's dead-killed in action, wasn't he?" "Then what's the crest doing on that car?" an older woman countered, pointing to the emblem of the Protector of Drakmont on car. "Nobody fakes that and lives." A veteran in the crowd tapped his cane against the ground, with a serious look. "If it is him," he said gravely, " then this city's about to shake. I saw that man in the war, he's like a walking storm when he's angry." The whispers were growing, with each one adding fuel to the fire. "Could he have survived?" someone asked with a trembling voice. "Didn't he once take down an entire battalion alone?" "I heard he fought for days with an arrow in his chest." "But he's supposed to be blind!" "This must be his ghost, Asher is long gone!" "He's no ghost!" a young man scoffed, though his tone lacked conviction. "But if he's alive, someone's in deep trouble." Juliet's blood boiled as the crowd's attention shifted away from her and the positive remarks about Asher only made it worse . She clenched her teeth so hard she thought they might crack. How dare someone ruin her moment? She was enjoying every second of Asher's parents' humiliation, and now this stranger had stolen the show. Her fists tightened at her sides as she thought angrily, Whoever this is, they're about to regret messing with me. With rage fueling her steps, she stormed toward the car, her heels clicking furiously on the stone floor. Her face twisted with fury, and she was ready to unleash hell on whoever dared interrupt her triumph. But just as she was about to reach the car, the door swung open, and she stopped dead in her tracks. It was Asher Blackmoor in flesh and blood. Juliet felt her heart stop as Asher stepped out of the car. For a moment, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. Her legs felt like jelly, and she struggled to steady herself. She couldn't believe it. Asher Blackmoor was alive, and he was here. The crowd froze, and their gasps filled the air. "It's him!" someone blurted out. "Asher Blackmoor... he's alive?" another murmured in disbelief. "I thought he died on the battlefield," said an older man, clutching his chest as if the sight alone was too much to handle. "Dead? Look at him! He's a storm ready to strike," muttered a younger man. "This is bad... really bad," a woman whispered, her eyes darting toward Juliet. Meanwhile, as Asher stepped out of the car, his sharp eyes scanned the scene before him. His heart skipped a beat, no, it stopped entirely. His breath hitched as he caught sight of two frail figures on their knees, faces etched with despair, surrounded by jeering onlookers. For a moment, he froze, his mind refusing to connect the dots. His parents? The parents of Asher Blackmoor, the Protector of Drakmont, reduced to this, humiliated, degraded, treated like filth? It couldn't be. Surely, this was some kind of sick misunderstanding. "No," he whispered to himself, shaking his head. Who would dare? Who would even try? Whoever it was wouldn't live long enough to explain their audacity. But as he took a step forward, the bitter truth unraveled before him. The closer he got, the clearer it became. The lines of his father's weary face. The trembling shoulders of his mother as she tried to shield him from the taunts. Reality hit him like a thunderclap, the weight of it nearly bringing him to his knees. This wasn't a mistake. This wasn't a dream. It was real. Asher clenched his fists so tightly it felt as if his bones might break, his entire body trembling. The jeering voices faded into silence in his ears, replaced by the roar of his own fury. Without thinking twice, he rushed to where his parents knelt, the scene was unbearable. His eyes stung as a single tear slipped down his face, a rare show of emotion. His chest heaved, his breath uneven, and even a stray strand of mucus escaped his nose but he didn't care. His entire body burned with rage as he took in their humiliation. The crowd whispered around him, their words sharp daggers to his heart. "Is that really Asher Blackmoor? He's crying?" one man muttered, disbelief coloring his tone. "Whoever did this is done for. Look at him, he's about to explode," another added, stepping back instinctively. "I can't believe someone dared to touch his parents. They might as well have signed their death warrant," an older woman said, shaking her head. Asher knelt, his hands trembling as he placed them on his father's shoulders. His voice cracked. He knelt before his parents, his hands trembling as he gently held his father's frail hand. The man who had once been a tower of strength now looked like a shadow of his former self. His mother, always so lively and vibrant, seemed so distant, her face etched with exhaustion and grief. "Father... Mother..." Asher's voice cracked, the words feeling foreign on his tongue. "It's me. I'm here now. I'm so sorry it took me this long to come back." His mother looked up, her watery eyes searching his face as though she couldn't believe he was real. "Asher," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You're alive..." "I never stopped thinking about you," Asher said, his heart pounding. "Every day, I wanted to see you. To tell you how much I missed you." His father coughed weakly, managing to smile despite the pain. "You've grown, son. I... I thought I'd never see you again." "I'm here now. I've got you." He turned to his mother, her frail frame trembling, and he whispered, "I've missed you both. I had so much to tell you... but not like this." Their tearful reunion lasted only a moment before his fury surged back, a storm he couldn't contain. His voice was sharp, laced with controlled rage. "Who? Who dared to do this to you?" His mother, hesitant and shaken, pointed toward Juliet. Asher froze, staring in disbelief. He scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. Juliet? No. This had to be some misunderstanding, some cruel joke. He shook his head, the thought unable to settle in his mind. "No," he thought. "Not Juliet. She wouldn't. She couldn't. Someone's blackmailing her, there's no way." Meanwhile, Julian darted to Juliet's side, his hands trembling as he gripped her arm. "What do we do?" he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. Juliet swallowed hard, trying to mask the fear creeping up her spine. She squared her shoulders, but the flicker of panic in her eyes betrayed her. Still unable to believe the name his mother had uttered, Asher's entire body tensed. He stepped back, his mind racing, and then surged forward again, his voice erupting like thunder mixed with the sharp crack of lightning. "Who? Say it again!" he bellowed, his voice shaking the very air around him. The crowd flinched, some even stepping back, as if the raw power of his fury might strike them next. His mother, trembling and with tears streaming down her face, raised her shaking hand again. "It... it was Juliet," she whispered, her voice barely audible . The moment her name left Eleanor's lips, Asher's men surged forward like unleashed hounds. They didn't wait for a command. The moment her name left Eleanor's lips, Asher's men surged forward like unleashed hounds. They didn't wait for a command. Juliet barely had time to react before they were upon her, gripping her arms with a strength that made her gasp. She tried to break free, but it was useless. "Let go of me!" she shouted, but her voice faltered. Julian, wide-eyed and trembling, reached out, his voice shaky. "We can explain-this isn't what you think!" But before they could utter another word, Asher stepped forward, his eyes locked on Juliet, and a chilling silence fell over the crowd. "You should have known this day would come, Juliet," Asher's voice was cold, unyielding. "And now... you'll pay the price.".