Chapter 006 Inheritance

Month 1 Week 2

The Matriarchy – Compound of the Inheritor

“I demand justice.” Vincent hissed. “She attacked me and has impugned on my good name. And…” Attricia watched in silent fury as her husband ranted and paced around their home, grappling for an excuse to have her innocent niece executed. “Aaannnddd…” he continued triumphantly as if whatever manipulative lie he was about to spew had just come to him. “…by sullying my name, she has sullied the future Matriarch of the House of Freyan.” He crossed his arms as if that was final. “She should be executed as soon as possible.”

The utter gall of this man. As if he thought that Attricia couldn’t see through his manipulations. Maybe at one time, she wouldn’t have. And that thought scared her. She had actively sought to trust her husband more than she should have from the very start because of his affiliation with certain political entities that wanted men to have more rights and a more active role in the politics of the country.

So, Attricia, future Matriarch, had made concessions and granted privileges to her second husband that no other man had ever had. What had he done with what she had given him? He’d betrayed her family. She would have to start taking some of those privileges away, which would be tricky now that he would claim it was retaliation for exposing her niece’s magical powers.

“She’s no Necromancer. Nor is she a Witch. I watched the trials myself. She has Ordered magic, but the Magi could not identify which species she gets her power from.” Despite the official report of the Magi, a religious organization that was independent of any country or political affiliation, Vincent had still purported to anyone that would listen when she was not around that Daralei Freyan was, in fact, a Necromancer who had tricked the Magi. Or that the Magi were in collusion with the Matriarch trying to hide the shame of House Freyan having a Necromancer in the family.

“I don’t believe it. I want her executed.” How could I have ever been attracted to this petulant spoiled man-child? In her mind, Attricia was shaking her head at him. He knows that all he has to do is cry his lies loud enough and long enough and it will destabilize our entire country, and he’s willing to do it to get his way. He would sacrifice Dara and all of House Freyan to have what he wants how he wants it.

“What if she were exiled, my love?” Sweet, and light, toss in some concern for his happiness. Now that the heir to the Matriarchy knew what her husband was, she needed to find a way to appease him that didn’t involve murdering an innocent member of the ruling house. Because that would spell doom for the public’s confidence in House Freyan as surely as Vincent’s lies of Necromancy would.

“Exile wouldn’t prove to me that she is not a Necromancer.” He huffed, folding his arms tighter over himself.

“What would prove to you that she isn’t a Necromancer?” By the Gods, was she really going to have to pry his demands out of him?

“Nothing.” His response was pure denial.

“Would restitution for the harm she has done to your reputation appease you?” She saw the way one of his eyebrows arched and he tried unsuccessfully to not look super interested in getting money. Then his interest washed away.

“She has no money to pay restitution with. Everyone knows that those stories of her parents’ secret fortune are just stories…” He glanced at his wife quickly to see if she agreed with the statement that there was no fortune and seeing no hint either way continued quickly. “And if she is exiled, no one will be watching her to see if she is a Necromancer.” Ah ha! Now Attricia knew what her husband wanted. Just as Dara had told the Matriarch. It was money and power, and he had planned to get that money and power with control over Dara’s money. Money that Dara didn’t have.

“No, Dara has no secret fortune. Her mother was a farmer’s daughter. Beautiful, but poor.” Though he tried to hide it from her, Vincent was crestfallen. “What if she were exiled to a distant part of The Matriarchy. Somewhere, where she wouldn’t be able to hide her Necromancy, because making things live, would be her way of proving she isn’t a Necromancer?”

“What do you mean? And you believe me?” He questioned suspiciously. “That she is a Necromancer?”

“Of course, I believe you. You are my husband, if you say it is so, then it is so.” Attricia swallowed her bile and smiled the dizzy-in-love smile she used to actually feel for him. “We have her exiled to a small farming community. And make her a farmer. She will have to pay you restitution by growing crops and making a profit off of them. If there is no profit, then she must be killing her crops with her Necromancy. Simple.”

“How would she pay for this if she has no money?” Vincent had been skeptical at first but she could see the cruel streak that she now knew was there rearing its head behind his eyes.

“I would loan it to her. I would be so magnanimous as to help her prove that she is just an average magic user and not a Necromancer. Give her a year to repay…” The woman paused artfully before continuing. “…No…a year would be too short. People would be suspicious. They’d claim I was trying to sabotage her. Two…or…” she gasped excitedly “…three years…that would make everyone think that you were being overly generous. Everyone likes a generous ruler.”

“Yes…everyone does like a generous ruler…” He knew his wife had been talking about herself as the future ruler of the Matriarchy, but it could go either way couldn’t it. If her policies and decisions now were seen as really being his ideas…then it wouldn’t be that hard of a transition from a Matriarchy to a Kingdom, would it? When the time came, of course. And all kinds of things could go wrong on a farm, at the edge of the Matriarchy lands, where dangerous Hordes and brigands roamed. Where Dara’s very life would be dependent on the whims of nature and violent creatures.

“This exile idea of yours is brilliant, Vincent.” Attricia gushed at her husband, and he accepted her praise as rightfully belonging to him. After all, if he hadn’t insisted that Daralei was actually a Necromancer, she wouldn’t need punishing, would she? And it was all the girl’s fault for refusing him anyways. An execution was too good for her. She should work hard for her life and freedom. Freedom Vincent and his men would make sure she never earned. His wife beamed beatifically at him thinking he was appeased and mollified, but Vincent was already plotting the next steps in his vengeance.