Page 75 of Degradation

As Gunther begins his speech, his voice resonates through the Cathedral, deep and commanding. It’s so unlike the man I’ve come to know, all his mania, all his erratic movements are gone, right now he’s clearly mastered whatever it is that plagues him. He speaks of servitude, devotion, and the rewards that come to those who know their place. I listen carefully, trying to decipher if his words are meant for Paitlyn or for the audience. Perhaps, I think, they are meant for both.

The ceremony progresses, and Gunther begins to bless each Lord and Lady. They kneel before him, their masks removed, revealing faces painted with piety and reverence. I grimace; my mind filled with the knowledge of what Gunther has done to the communion wafers.

I watch as he places the tainted wafer into each recipient’s mouth, his words, “the seeds of life,” ringing hollow in my ears, and the irony of it doesn’t escape me.

Each Lord and Lady accepts the blessing graciously. Some seem to hesitate for a moment before consuming it, their expressions betraying a flicker of doubt or discomfort. But they all comply, swallowing the tainted offering without protest.

Gunther then raises a golden chalice, filled with holy wine. He takes a sip, his face a picture of piety, before offering it to the kneeling nobles. He allows the wine to overpour, letting it spill down the front of some of the women’s dresses, soaking intotheir cleavages. I watch, noting, as he targets the young, pretty ones, his actions a blatant display of power and dominance.

When it’s all over, the happy couple step down and are ushered out. Gunther has his hand on the small of Paitlyn’s back and he’s all but shoving her along, like he thinks that in this moment she might do something, say something, create a scene that he can’t control.

I wonder what would happen if she did. What would he do? Sure, he would punish her, but such a display would have ramifications, big ones. It feels like we’re all on a precipice, like the entire elite are aware of what Gunther is becoming, what he’s devolving into. We’re a box of tinder, waiting for that one spark to catch.

As soon as we reach the back corridors, Gunther fully flings his wife out the way. She cries out, slamming into a pillar and nobody moves to catch her as she slides down to the floor.

“What did I do?” She whispers, that solid mask now off her face, lying beside her, as useless as her words are.

No one replies. Gunther just barks for someone to get the whore out of his sight.

Mace and Lyndon are the ones to do it, they scoop her up, half-carry her off to where the cars are waiting. It’s notable that Gunther ordered a whole fleet to transport them. It’s like he expected trouble, like he knew he wouldn’t be travelling back with her.

I catch a glimpse of her face as she disappears around the corner, and the look she gives me, it’s one of pure hate. Pure malice.

I can’t help but smirk. I can’t help but feel something in my cock too.

Little bitch, I’ll have my moment soon enough. I’ll show you what true hate is, I’ll carve it out into every part of you.

“She’s a sweet thing.” Someone mutters beside me, and I frown, realising that it’s Gunther’s brother.

He’s not meant to be here. Not meant to be out. The man is all but excommunicated from good society. He and a few others got caught running an underage breeding programme years ago. Hundreds of girls were involved. Hundreds of babies too. Not that anyone has done a thing to trace them. The girls were dealt with the only way possible. The few babies that were in the facility were distributed to worthy families and the rest was sorted out in a manner that kept everyone happy enough to not make a fuss.

But Guthrie has no business being back. Ever being back. The only thing that stopped him being executed was the fact that Gunther is his brother.

I glance at the Chapter Lord as he yanks off one layer of his robes and then another, tossing them for the Priests to pick up. I wonder if the mania that haunts Gunther is also in Guthrie. If that’s the problem. Things run in the blood; I know that more than most. My mother’s blood runs through my veins, just as it does Magnus’ and Conrad’s, they’re just too scared by what it is to embrace it.

I choose not to reply to his words. I know better than to be so stupid.

Gunther spots his brother and narrows his eyes. “The fuck are you doing here?” He asks.

“Watching your back, just as always.” Guthrie replies.

A few of the guards react to that, to the insult, does he think we’re not up to the job?

“Someone might see…” Gunther begins but Guthrie wraps his arm around his shoulder, and he falls silent.

“Nonsense. No one will see. No one will look. You’re the Chapter Lord, you’re in charge. You make the rules, remember? And so what if they do see, so what if they know? No one can stopyou. You’re too powerful, too big. You’re a God, brother. And what God answers to mortals?”

“None,” Gunther says, though he sounds unsure.

“None. That’s right.” Guthrie repeats, slapping him on the back for good measure.

I can’t tell if Guthrie is full of shit or as mad as Gunther is. Perhaps he’s the reason our dear Chapter Lord is so close to completely and utterly losing it.

I glance across at Commander Malik and he looks absolutely furious to see Guthrie is there.

“We had an agreement, Chapter Lord.” Malik says quietly.

Gunther draws in a breath, shaking his head. “He’s my brother. I don’t have to explain myself…”