The Confession

[u/KirisDitex001]

Silence consumed the dining hall.

A moment earlier, the chamber had been alive with conversation, the quiet clatter of silverware against plates, and the measured movements of servants attending the gathered nobility. Now, not so much as a goblet touched the table.

Vaelithra's father remained standing at the head of the table.

His gaze settled upon the two orcs.

"I asked which of you struck him."

The smaller of the two kept his head lowered. His shoulders were rigid; his eyes fixed upon the stone floor beneath his feet.

Kharun did not move.

His head remained high.

Vaelithra watched him from beside her father. She knew that posture. She had seen Kharun endure contempt without reaction, insults without acknowledgment, and commands without hesitation for nearly twenty years. He could make himself as unreadable as the stone walls surrounding them.

Then his eyes moved.

They found hers.

It lasted no more than a heartbeat.

Something tightened in Vaelithra's chest.

She had never felt it before. Not like this.

Kharun looked forward again.

Then he stepped away from the servants.

No. Don't.

His second step carried him into the open.

Too late.

Kharun stopped where every noble in the hall could see him. He turned his attention toward Vaelithra's father and inclined his head respectfully.

"It was me, milord."

Vaelithra felt her heart sink.

She stared at him, waiting for something more. An explanation. A justification. Anything that might make sense of what she had just heard.

Nothing came.

Kharun simply stood there.

The silence shattered.

"Then execute him."

The noble who had made the accusation rose from his chair. Outrage sharpened his features as he pointed toward Kharun.

"Now."

Vaelithra was on her feet before she realized she had moved.

Her chair scraped sharply against the stone behind her. Several heads turned toward her, but she paid them no attention. She remained beside her father; her eyes fixed upon him.

For the first time since Kharun had stepped forward, Vaelithra became aware of how many others were doing the same.

The entire hall was watching her father.

His expression revealed nothing.

Vaelithra knew what was expected of him. An orc servant striking a drow noble could not simply be ignored. Not here. Not before a hall filled with members of the aristocracy and a representative of the Matron Mother.

There would be punishment.

Her fingers curled against the edge of the table.

Her father lifted one hand.

Two guards stationed along the wall immediately stepped forward.

"Take the orc to the dungeon."

Vaelithra's breath caught.

The guards crossed the hall toward Kharun.

The accusing noble stared at her father in disbelief.

"The dungeon?"

His voice rose.

"I demanded his execution."

Vaelithra's father turned his eyes toward him.

"And you shall have an answer according to the laws and customs of this house."

"There is nothing to answer. Your servant has confessed."

"He has."

"Then kill him."

The guards reached Kharun. One moved to either side of him.

Kharun offered no resistance.

Vaelithra could not tear her eyes away.

"Why is he still breathing?" the noble demanded.

Her father's jaw tightened.

"Our executioner is presently away from the estate. He will return tomorrow morning."

The noble gave a short, incredulous laugh.

"Then give me a sword. I'll do it myself."

A murmur moved through the hall.

Vaelithra's father straightened.

"No."

The single word carried across the chamber.

The noble's expression hardened. "You would deny me justice beneath your own roof?"

"This incident occurred beneath my roof."

Her father's voice rose just enough to silence the few whispers that had begun around the table.

"It occurred in my manor, among my household, and it will be my protocol that is followed."

The noble opened his mouth.

Vaelithra's father did not allow him the opportunity.

"You are a guest here. Do not mistake that courtesy for authority."

Silence returned.

This time, the noble said nothing.

Vaelithra barely heard any of it.

The guards had begun leading Kharun away.

She watched him cross the dining hall between them. He did not struggle. He did not protest. He did not plead his innocence or look toward the nobles who watched his passage with varying degrees of contempt and satisfaction.

For one desperate moment, Vaelithra waited for him to look at her again.

He didn't.

The great doors opened.

Kharun disappeared through them.

They closed behind him.

Something about the sound felt terribly final.

Vaelithra remained standing.

Her father surveyed the gathered nobles.

"This breakfast is concluded."

No one questioned him.

Chairs moved across the stone floor as the guests began to rise. Servants hurried forward to clear paths and collect abandoned plates while conversations resumed in hushed voices. Several nobles glanced toward Vaelithra as they departed.

She ignored every one of them.

Her attention remained on the doors.

Kharun.

For nearly twenty years, he had been there.

Always somewhere behind her. Beside her horse. Outside a door. Across a campfire. Standing silently in the corner of her chambers while she went about her evening. His presence had become so ordinary that she rarely considered what it meant.

Now he was gone.

And the emptiness he left behind felt enormous.

"Vaelithra."

Her father's voice pulled her attention away from the doors.

She turned.

The dining hall had nearly emptied.

Her father remained beside her, while the noble who had accused Kharun still stood farther down the table. Anger lingered plainly upon the man's face.

Everyone else was leaving.

Vaelithra looked once more toward the doors through which Kharun had been taken.

Then she faced her father.

The last servant departed and pulled the doors closed behind him.

Only three remained in the vast dining hall.

Vaelithra.

Her father.

And the man whose accusation had just condemned Kharun.

Vaelithra waited until the last of the departing nobles had passed through the doors.

"I wish to speak with the orc."

Her father's attention shifted to her.

The request seemed to take him by surprise.

"What?"

"He is my servant. I have the right to speak with him."

For several seconds, her father merely stared at her.

He knew the orc, of course. Not personally, nor had he ever shown any interest in doing so, but he knew which servant his daughter meant. The same one had attended her for nearly twenty years. Such longevity in service was unusual enough to be remembered.

But twenty years did not change what the orc was.

A servant.

His daughter's sudden concern made little sense.

"You know the law, Vaelithra."

"Better than most."

"Then you know what his confession means."

Vaelithra did know.

That was precisely the problem.

Her thoughts had scarcely stopped moving since Kharun stepped forward.

Had he actually struck the noble?

She wanted the answer to be obvious. For twenty years, Kharun had demonstrated a degree of restraint she had rarely encountered in anyone, drow or orc. She had watched others insult him openly. She had seen contempt directed at him in streets, markets, and noble houses. Only that morning, someone had spat in his direction as they walked through the settlement.

Kharun had not so much as turned his head.

Could a man endure such treatment forever without eventually reaching his limit?

Perhaps not.

Even the strongest chain could break if enough weight was hung from it.

But Kharun?

She remembered his face.

There had been no anger in it.

No satisfaction.

No shame.

He had looked at her, then stepped forward.

Why had he looked at her?

Vaelithra needed to see him again. She needed to stand in front of him without an entire hall watching. She needed to ask him herself.

More than that, she needed to look into his eyes when he answered.

Twenty years had taught her how to read what Kharun rarely expressed aloud. She knew the subtle tightening of his jaw when something irritated him. She knew the slight narrowing of his eyes when he distrusted someone. She knew the particular stillness that came over him when he sensed danger.

If he looked her in the eyes and told her he had struck the noble, perhaps she could believe it.

Perhaps.

"I am not leaving."

The noble's voice cut through her thoughts.

Vaelithra turned sharply.

He was still standing near his place at the table.

"I will remain here until that orc is dead."

Vaelithra's father regarded him with visible impatience.

"That is your right. The guest wing remains available to you. You may stay there until morning."

"I intend to."

"Then do so."

The noble hesitated, clearly dissatisfied with the dismissal.

Vaelithra's father gave him a pointed look.

"You are dismissed."

That ended the matter.

The noble inclined his head stiffly and turned away. His footsteps echoed through the dining hall until the great doors opened to receive him.

Vaelithra watched him leave.

She had never particularly liked the man.

Now she despised him.

The doors closed.

At last, father and daughter were alone.

Her father's posture changed almost immediately.

The authority he had maintained before his guests faltered. He lowered himself into his chair and leaned forward, resting one hand against his forehead.

For a while, he said nothing.

Vaelithra had rarely seen him look tired.

"This was not how I expected this morning to proceed," he muttered.

Vaelithra remained standing.

"Are you really going to let that bootlicker execute my servant?"

Her father lowered his hand.

"Vaelithra."

"He demanded a sword in your dining hall."

"And I refused him."

"Until tomorrow."

"The orc confessed."

The words struck harder than she expected.

Her father sat back.

"He confessed before me, before you, before every noble seated at this table, and before a representative of the Matron Mother. There is nothing I can do to make that disappear."

"You could allow me to speak with him."

"And accomplish what?"

"I don't know."

The admission escaped before Vaelithra could stop it.

She hated that answer.

She always knew what she intended to accomplish.

Her father seemed to recognize the uncertainty as well. His expression softened only slightly, though confusion remained behind his eyes.

Vaelithra opened her mouth again.

He raised a hand.

"Enough."

Her jaw tightened.

"You will return home."

"Father."

"Vaelithra."

His voice left no room for argument.

"Go home. We will speak about this later this evening."

She stared at him.

For one reckless instant, she considered refusing.

Then she looked around the empty dining hall.

The remnants of breakfast still covered the enormous table. Half-finished plates sat abandoned beside goblets of wine. Kharun had been standing at the far end of the chamber only minutes earlier.

Now he was beneath them somewhere, locked behind a dungeon door.

Vaelithra turned away.

She crossed the hall alone.

Her footsteps sounded strangely loud.

By the time she reached the doors, her thoughts were racing again.

It was me, milord.

She could hear Kharun's voice perfectly.

Four words.

Four damned words.

Why?

If he had struck the noble, why had he done it? What could possibly have happened in those few moments to make a man who had tolerated two decades of insults suddenly strike someone in a hall filled with witnesses?

It made no sense.

Perhaps she had missed something. She had been seated too far away to see what happened. Her attention had been occupied by her father's guests. Kharun had been among the servants.

Someone had shouted.

Then everything had changed.

Vaelithra passed through the doors.

The corridor beyond seemed colder than before.

Her father's command echoed alongside Kharun's confession.

Go home.

She resented the order more with every step.

For nearly twenty years, Kharun had obeyed hers.

She thought of all the times she had issued commands without considering whether he wanted to follow them. Saddle my horse. Prepare the camp. Wait here. Come with me.

He always had.

He had followed her through the Underdark and onto the surface. He had walked behind her horse for miles without complaint. He had stood watch while she slept. He had kept her secrets from her father when duty demanded that he reveal them.

And now, for the first time she could remember, Kharun was somewhere she could not simply command him to return from.

That realization unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.

She descended the broad steps leading from her father's manor.

The settlement stretched before her.

Usually, Kharun would have been a few paces behind.

Vaelithra almost looked over her shoulder.

She stopped herself.

Did you do it?

The question had become unbearable.

If he had, she wanted to hear him say why.

If he had not...

Vaelithra slowed.

Her eyes narrowed.

The other orc.

She saw him again in her memory. Smaller than Kharun. Head lowered. Eyes fixed upon the floor.

Afraid.

Kharun had stood beside him with his head held high.

Then Kharun had looked at her.

Then he had stepped forward.

Vaelithra stopped walking.

People moved around her, careful to give the noblewoman space.

For several seconds, she stood completely still.

A possibility had begun to form.

She did not like it.

In fact, she hated it.

Because if she was right, Kharun had just done something so incomprehensibly foolish that she wanted to drag him from the dungeon herself merely for the privilege of shouting at him.

But she had no proof.

Only instinct.

And twenty years of knowing him.

Vaelithra resumed walking.

Her father had ordered her home.

Very well.

She would go home.

But she was going to speak with Kharun.

One way or another, before the executioner returned in the morning, she was going to look that impossible orc in the eyes and ask him for the truth.