***Important post for this event!***
“Two daughters. Beautiful girls. They were a true blessing.” Roderick still spoke pleasantly enough, but the past tense he used speaking about his girls hinted at darker things to come.
“Lord, were they beautiful. Took after their mother, not me. Long blonde hair and bright, warm brown eyes. Perfect in every way. I’m sure you know what I mean, Your Grace, having a daughter yourself. I hope your daughter has years and years stretching out before her to grow into a beautiful and possessed woman.”
The fact that the man was still talking at all - most lower nobles kept their words to the Grand Duke short, if they spoke at all! - might have been a sign something was wrong. And as Roderick continued, his voice grew increasingly agitated. And he stayed close enough to Calent that the Grand Duke wouldn’t be able to easily evade him.
“My girls didn’t get that chance. They’re both in the earth, now. They were perfect…
perfect... But they were two. Twins, you see? They were sweet girls, normal girls. But when
your men came to take the mages away, they didn’t care. They didn’t give a lick that the girls weren’t mages. Twins, bad enough they said! They were only seven years old.
Seven years old when they took them away, weeping, to your godforsaken ‘camps’ in the north!
Seven!”
Alarm sparked through the area immediately around the two men. The sound of guards rushing forward from the edges of the ball reached Roderick, but he didn’t stop.
“Maybe they were eight by the time they died. Cold, starved, sick to death, and
alone in
your camps! Because
YOU killed them, Calent Allarick!” Roderick grabbed the Grand Duke by his shirt collar, yelling now. But his other hand was concealed in his pocket. “The blood of my daughters, my innocent girls, is on YOUR hands!
MURDERER!”
The words hung for just a moment before the guards grabbed the man who, by now, was yelling loud enough for half the ball to hear his accusations. Two guards grabbed him firmly by the shoulders, wrenching him away from Calent. But Roderick wasn't going to lose this opportunity.
His hand in his pocket pulled a trigger. He'd modified it himself for this purpose. It was put together to ignite what was concealed beneath his shirt. The winter had left Roderick gaunt and skinny; there had been plenty of room beneath his ball attire to pack a deadly amount of gun powder and shrapnel: the largest bomb he could build and conceal.
And now was time.
In that moment, everything turned into a deafening roar as Roderick ignited the explosion which erupted with a shock of force and chaos. Whatever was left of Roderick and the guards splattered over the hall. The force of the explosion shook the foundation of the hall. The wall nearest the explosion swayed and creaked, then with a second deafening roar, collapsed inward onto the ball.