Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 269 - Two Hundred And Sixty Eight

The heavy wooden doors of the Thompson estate groaned on their hinges as they were pushed open. A blast of cold air swept into the grand foyer, scattering the dust motes dancing in the beams of the afternoon sun. Two Royal Guards walked in, their faces grim, their uniforms stained with sweat and travel.

Between them, they dragged a man who barely looked human anymore.

It was Carlos.

He was limp, a sack of broken bones and torn fabric. His feet dragged across the polished marble floor, leaving two long trails in the room. His fine military clothes were shredded, the back of his shirt stuck to his skin with dark, fresh blood. His face was pale, his eyes rolling back in his head, his mouth hanging open in a silent gasp of pain. He had survived the fifty strikes from the Royal executioner in the public square, but only just.

The guards hauled him into the center of the foyer. They didn’t place him down gently. They dropped him.

He hit the floor with a wet, heavy thud.

He didn’t move. He just lay there, taking shallow, rattling breaths that sounded like dry leaves scraping together.

One of the guards wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and bowed to Derek.

"The punishment is over, Your Grace," the guard said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "The King’s decree has been carried out. Fifty strikes for bribery and incompetence. We will take our leave now."

Derek stood tall near the grand staircase. His arm was still in a sling, hidden under his cloak, but his posture was rigid. His face was impassive, a mask of stone. He looked at the broken man on the floor—the brother he had grown up with, the brother who had tried to kill him.

"Thank you," Derek said.

The guards nodded and left, their boots clanking on the stone, closing the heavy doors behind them with a final, booming echo.

Silence filled the room. It was the silence of a tomb, heavy and suffocating.

Then, a sob broke the quiet.

Ashlyn rushed forward from where she had been standing by the wall. She fell to her knees beside Carlos, ignoring the blood that stained the white marble, ruining her dress. Her hands hovered over him, trembling, terrified to touch him because there was no spot on his body that wasn’t hurt.

"Carlos," she wept.

She grabbed his arm, trying to pull him up, trying to drag him toward safety.

"Get up," she whispered frantically. "We have to go. We have to get you to the room. I have medicine. I have the ointment. You will be fine."

She tried to lift him. Carlos groaned, a sound of pure, unadulterated agony that tore through the room.

Derek took a step forward.

"Wait," Derek said.

Ashlyn froze. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with terror. She saw the Grand Duke looming over them like a shadow.

"He needs a doctor!" Ashlyn cried. "Let me take him! He is dying!"

Derek shook his head slowly. He walked closer, his boots echoing on the floor.

"That was the Royal punishment," Derek said calmly. "That was for bribing the Minister. That was for lying to the King. That was for the country."

He looked down at Carlos.

"You still have military punishment," Derek said. "And family punishment."

Carlos’s eyes fluttered open. He looked at Derek through swollen, purple lids. He tried to speak, but his throat was dry as dust.

"Derek..." Carlos rasped. His voice came out in uneven, painful gasps. "What... do you mean?"

Derek looked at him with cold, hard eyes. He began to list the crimes, ticking them off on his fingers.

"Joining others against a member of this family," Derek said. "You conspired with Prince Liam. You plotted against me."

Carlos flinched.

"Neglecting your duty post," Derek continued. "You were supposed to be managing the supplies. Instead, you were drinking wine and hiding in the storeroom while people died of the plague."

Derek took a step closer.

"Endangering the army’s life," Derek said, his voice dropping to a growl. "You sent information to the enemy. You told the Mercians where we would be. You told them about the raid. You set the trap."

Carlos tried to shake his head, but he couldn’t move.

"Colluding with Prince Liam," Derek said. "You sold your own brother to a snake for a token of gold and a promise of power."

Derek stared at him.

"Distorting the truth," Derek finished. "Claiming credit for a victory you didn’t win. Saying I was dead when you knew the truth because you were the one who ordered the arrow."

Carlos wept. He shook his head, tears mixing with the dirt and blood on his face.

"I’m truly innocent, brother," Carlos sobbed, his voice weak. "I know... I know I did wrong. I know I slacked off. But after... after I heard about the incident... after the arrow hit you..."

He tried to look at Derek, begging for mercy with his eyes.

"I sent a search party," Carlos lied, trying to save himself with one last falsehood. "I sent men to look for you below the cliff. I tried to find you. I grieved for you!"

Derek didn’t pay attention to his words. He knew it was a lie. He knew Carlos had ridden away, leaving him to rot in the snow.

"Such conduct," Derek announced, his voice ringing like a bell in the silent hall, "warrants thirty strikes by family rule for betrayal."

He paused.

"And fifty strikes by military rule for treason and desertion."

Carlos’s eyes widened. They bulged with sheer horror.

Eighty more strikes.

"Brother..." Carlos whispered. "Please... I was just punished. I haven’t even recovered. I can’t... I can’t survive that. It will kill me."

He tried to crawl backward, dragging his broken body across the floor, leaving a smear of red behind him.

Ashlyn stood up. She threw herself in front of Derek, shielding Carlos with her body, spreading her arms wide.

"Your Grace!" Ashlyn screamed. "Another beating will kill my husband! He is already broken! Look at him! Have you no mercy?"

She turned to Beatrice, who was sitting in her chair near the hearth, watching the scene with a face made of stone.

"Grandmother!" Ashlyn pleaded. She pointed to her stomach, playing her only card. "Would you let my child be fatherless at birth? Would you let your great-grandchild grow up without a father because of rules? Would you kill the father of the my child?"

She fell to her knees before the Dowager, grasping the hem of her skirt.

"Please," Ashlyn begged. "Mercy. For the sake of the baby. For the sake of the future."

Beatrice looked at Ashlyn. She looked at the flat stomach where the "child" was supposed to be. Then she looked at Carlos, the grandson who had sold their honor for a title.

Beatrice gripped her cane. Her knuckles were white.

"The Thompson family upholds loyalty above all else," Beatrice spoke. Her voice was old and tired, but it did not waver. "Errors must be punished. Wrongdoings must be addressed. If we do not punish our own, the world will think we are weak. The world will think we condone treason."

She looked away from Ashlyn.

"Let the punishment proceed," Beatrice said.

Ashlyn screamed. "No!"

Derek didn’t hesitate. He turned his head toward the shadows of the hall.

"Guards!" he called out.

Two of his own guards—the Elite Shadows who had returned with him from the war—came running. They didn’t look like the Royal Guards. They wore black. Their faces were covered. They moved silently, like ghosts.

They bowed to Derek. "Your Grace."

Derek pointed to Carlos.

"Take him down for punishment," Derek spoke. "To the courtyard. Where everyone can see."

The guards moved. They grabbed Carlos by his arms. He screamed in pain as they lifted him, his legs dangling uselessly.

"Brother! Brother!" Carlos yelled, panic giving him a final burst of strength. "Derek! Derek! Please! I am your brother! We played together! Don’t do this!"

Derek watched them drag him away. He watched the man who had tried to kill him beg for his life.

He felt no joy. He felt no sadness. He only felt the cold necessity of survival. He felt the weight of the arrow in his chest.

"One more thing," Derek said.

The guards stopped. They looked back at their commander.

Derek looked at Carlos’s hands—the hands that had written the letter to the enemy. He looked at Carlos’s legs—the legs that had run so fast to give the news of his death.

"Make sure," Derek said, his voice low and terrifyingly calm, "that he won’t be using his hands and legs for a while. Dislocate them if you have to."

The guards nodded. They understood. It wasn’t just a beating. It was a crippling. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

"No! Derek!" Carlos screamed as they dragged him out the door.

Ashlyn collapsed on the floor, listening to her husband’s screams fade into the distance.