Chapter 134: The Price of Treachery

Upon sighting Pierre, Duke Alençon immediately sprang into action, striding purposefully towards him, his face a mask of stone.

Pierre spun around to flee, yet the oppressive aura his father exuded had turned his legs to jelly. Coupled with the ringing in his ears, he stumbled after only two steps, pitching forward.

He didn’t, however, hit the ground. Duke Alençon, having swiftly caught up, seized him by the back of his collar and lifted him clean off his feet, much like one would scruff a chick.

Pierre instinctively clawed at his collar, but the Duke’s grip had twisted it into a noose around his throat, instantly cutting off his breath.

In the next second, he was flung by the Duke, smashing violently against the corridor wall, a searing pain blooming across his back.

He crumpled to the floor, leaning against the wall, only to have the Duke press a hand firmly against his neck, pinning him there.

‘Ugh!’ Pierre gasped, clawing at his father’s wrist, desperate to break free. Yet, the Duke’s sturdy hand remained as unmoving as if it were nailed to the wall.

Before the formidable and robust Duke Alençon, Pierre, his body weakened by alcohol, had no power to retaliate.

Then, the Duke spoke. “You committed perjury.”

It was not a question, but a stark declaration.

He had learned everything from the defense lawyer immediately after the trial concluded, and had wasted no time in using his influence to scour the city for his son’s whereabouts.

“I… I…” Pierre’s voice trembled, fear making it nearly impossible for him to form a complete sentence.

Suddenly, Duke Alençon’s fist slammed into his face, making his eyes swim with stars. Excruciating pain pierced his skull, threatening to shatter his consciousness.

“Who told you to do it?! Speak now!” Duke Alençon demanded furiously. “You couldn’t possibly have gotten your hands on such things alone. Someone must have put you up to this!”

“It… it was a friend from a club who introduced him to me. We didn’t even know his identity… he just called himself Mr. Dis,” Pierre stammered out, his head swimming as he confessed.

“You scoundrel! You listened to someone whose identity was completely unknown? You were used as a pawn and didn’t even realize it!” Duke Alençon roared, seizing his son and slamming him against the wall once more.

He knew it was highly probable that the true mastermind would remain untraceable. Anyone capable of orchestrating such a treacherous scheme would surely not expose their real identity, especially to avoid investigation and retaliation from the Northern Duke.

He would still attempt to investigate later, but he feared it would yield little result.

“I did this for our family, Father! That woman is being targeted by the Inquisition; protecting her would only tarnish our reputation! By actively reporting her, our family can sever ties with her!” Pierre began to plead loudly, sensing the imminent danger.

“You dare speak of the family to me!?” The enraged Duke Alençon delivered another punch to his son. “Do you realize this foolish act of yours has nearly ruined us?”

Pierre tasted blood in his mouth as tears streamed from his eyes. He had been beaten by his father before, but never with such murderous intent—this brutal method was typically reserved for interrogating enemy spies!

He cried out, his mouth full of blood, “What are you talking about, Father? We’ve cut ties with that woman, how could anything happen? With our family’s power…”

“Fool, you still don’t grasp the gravity of the situation?” The Duke grabbed his collar, hoisting him up. “Whether we can sever ties isn’t up to us. Even if you tried, our political enemies would seize upon this and never let go! This incident alone is enough for all our past adversaries to collectively push us into the abyss! Restrictions and disciplinary actions from the Imperial Palace will arrive sooner or later. Don’t you understand who is ‘kindly’ helping you? You’ve truly been sold out and are still helping them count the money!”

The Alençon family’s influence in the North had encroached upon too many interests. Countless individuals desired their downfall, yet opportunities were scarce.

Jeanne Decker’s incident was merely a catalyst, one he could have easily resolved. However, he had never imagined that his own son would be the one to hand the enemy a blade to strike their fatal weakness!

“Ah?” Pierre was dumbfounded. He had barely considered anything when he committed the act, his mind clouded by the sole thought of retaliating against Jeanne Decker.

“Come with me to turn yourself in now! Immediately!” Duke Alençon declared, dragging him away.

“Turn myself in?” Shock jolted Pierre awake. He struggled, grabbing a nearby doorknob to prevent himself from being dragged further. “Wouldn’t that… mean I admit to false accusation?”

“What else? After all this, do you still intend to deny what you’ve done?” Duke Alençon turned, glaring at him.

“You’re insane, Father! False accusation, and one involving contact with heretical items—that’s a serious crime! You’d actually send your own son to prison!?” Pierre could barely believe his ears.

“You must take responsibility for your actions,” Duke Alençon stated, his gaze fixed on him, enunciating each word.

Pierre’s eyes widened, his father’s ruthlessness completely exceeding his expectations.

Having reached this point, he decided to go all out, collapsing onto the ground in a stubborn fit. “I can’t believe you’re truly this heartless! For a mere adopted daughter, you’d send your own son to prison? I’d rather die! Your coercion is useless; the Inquisition won’t believe you! Go ahead, kill me! Let the entire Empire witness the Alençon family’s disgrace!”

His son’s defiance made Duke Alençon clench his fists instantly, but he quickly relaxed them.

He had already realized that the situation was truly irreversible. Following the second trial, opposing factions had already begun to stir up trouble everywhere.

Even if Pierre recanted under his coercion, it would be futile. The Inquisition had been investigating the circulation of forbidden items for years without a single lead.

The shadowy forces behind it were now desperately trying to tarnish the Alençon family’s name.

Under such pressure, everything would ultimately fall upon the Alençon family.

The Church Tribunal’s heresy trials were, by nature, classic tools of political persecution. At this point, no one cared about the truth; they only cared about political victory or defeat.

And the Alençon family was now the loser in this struggle.

After a moment of silence, the Duke released his son’s collar and turned to leave.

“Kill you? I’ve commanded on battlefields for so many years. A waste like you isn’t even worthy of dying by my hand,” he declared, leaving those words behind.

Pierre looked up at his father’s retreating back and suddenly scoffed. Surely, his father would have to accept reality in the end. He was his father’s only son, the sole heir, the future of the family…

This illusion, however, shattered instantly with Duke Alençon’s next words:

“I will apply to strip you of your inheritance as soon as possible, Pierre. No matter how disgraced the Alençon family becomes, it will never be entrusted to a contemptible criminal. From today forward, we are no longer related.”

The Duke, who had been raging a minute ago, spoke these words with an unnerving calm.

“What?! Father? What are you talking about?” Pierre’s face paled. He struggled to get up from the ground, attempting to chase after his father, but as soon as he stood, a wave of dizziness from the earlier blow to his head overwhelmed him, sending him crashing back down.

“Father! How could you do this? You’re joking, right? Wait, Father!!” He looked up, his desperate cries echoing futilely in the direction Duke Alençon had vanished.

But Duke Alençon had already disappeared from his sight.

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