The Betrayal of a Trusted Advisor
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The grand hall of Lucien’s estate, dimly lit with flickering candlelight. The air is thick with tension as Lucien sits in his chair at the head of the room, flanked by his most loyal allies. Before him kneels Marcus Hale, one of his advisors, who has recently been caught conspiring with a rival faction.

Lucien’s voice is calm, almost eerily so, as he addresses Marcus.

“I trusted you, Marcus. I gave you a seat at my table, access to my plans, and the benefits of my protection. And this... this is how you repay me?”

Marcus trembles, head bowed. “My lord, I beg your forgiveness. I... I was coerced. Threatened.”

Lucien leans forward slightly, his fingers steepled, his gaze sharp and unrelenting. “Threatened? Coerced? You’re a grown man, Marcus, not a helpless child. You made a choice. And now, you’ll see the weight of it.”

Lucien rises slowly, his calm demeanor never wavering. He motions for two guards to bring forward a chest. Inside, a carefully crafted iron mask is revealed—a mask with intricate etchings designed to burn the skin over time as it’s worn.

“This,” Lucien says, gesturing to the mask, “is your new face. You see, Marcus, I believe in fitting consequences. You betrayed my trust, so now the world will see your betrayal carved into you every day.”

Marcus begins to plead, his voice cracking. “My lord, please, I will serve you faithfully! I will undo my wrongs!”

Lucien tilts his head, his expression still calm. “Oh, you will serve me, Marcus. That’s the beauty of it. But you’ll serve as a reminder to everyone else that loyalty isn’t optional. Guards, secure the mask.”
As the guards affix the mask to Marcus’s face, the advisor screams in pain. The mask’s magic activates, the etchings beginning to glow faintly as they bond to his skin. Lucien watches impassively, his hands clasped behind his back.

Turning to the rest of his allies in the room, he speaks with quiet authority. “Let this serve as a lesson. Loyalty is rewarded. Betrayal is remembered.”

The room falls silent, save for Marcus’s muffled cries. Lucien turns on his heel and leaves, his composure unshaken, knowing that his message has been received loud and clear.
Later, alone in his study, Lucien sits with a glass of wine, his expression contemplative. He doesn’t revel in the cruelty but acknowledges its necessity. His sadistic streak isn’t born of impulse; it’s a calculated tool to maintain power and ensure order. For Lucien, every act of cruelty serves a purpose, reinforcing the delicate balance of fear and respect that keeps his world in check.

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