The Archduke's Songbird-Chapter 125: A Shocking Statement
Jerrick’s hold on her hand tightened as they walked closer. Jessamyn’s heart clenched at the sight of the lined-up coffins of young girls under the marble stairs of the Divine Judiciary Council, right beneath the imposing statue of Goddess Levana.
The gracious goddess, depicted with serene compassion, seemed to look down upon the young girls who had been cruelly taken before their time. The laments of their grieving mothers echoed through the square, heart-wrenching and piercing.
Apparently, the dead bodies of those missing young girls were found in the Great Green Forest by some members of the merchants guild last night.
On the platform above the stairs sat Archon Erlan, the right-hand Archon of The Primarch—the head of the church. He was the same Archon who had applauded the loss of her titles, deeming her an ill omen from birth.
The church had a practice of marking those born on Winter Solstices, and Jessamyn had been under their scrutiny since she was young. For reasons she never fully understood, Archon Erlan had always singled her out as a greater omen than others who shared her birthday.
Jessamyn only discovered their true opinions of her after her wedding to Joar. The hurtful whispers and sidelong glances made it clear why Emily had always kept her at a distance; her presence would have further tarnished Emily’s already delicate status among her peers.
Imogen, on the other hand, was said to have been born under the most auspicious omens. She was celebrated and adored, the epitome of what the Divine Judiciary Council considered blessed. While Imogen basked in the glow of their approval, Jessamyn was cast as a shadow, the so-called bearer of bad luck.
Archon Erlan had even celebrated the death of her child, saying that the kingdom had escaped another curse. He even attributed the untimely death of Joar to her ill omen. Though he never voiced such callousness in public, Jessamyn had learned of it through the vestal virgins she knew.
People like Erlan were among the many reasons that pushed her away from her faith. Their hypocrisy and cruelty had eroded her trust in the Divine Council.
Instead, Jessamyn joined the Council of Leocadia, a secretive organization with the genuine intent of helping the masses. Unlike the Divine Judiciary Council, which sought to control people in the name of religion, the Council of Leocadia operated in the shadows, driven by a mission of true compassion and justice.
The Council of Leocadia’s members were bound by a silent oath to protect and serve, shunning recognition and power, as she was told. They aimed to right wrongs and provide aid whereas the Divine Council offered only condemnation and control.
This clandestine group was for Jessamyn, representing the faith she wished to believe in—one of action, empathy, and sincerity, rather than judgment and oppression. But lately, she had her suspicions about the Council of Leocadia as they appeared to have a hidden intent. But she was sure they were in no way corrupted than the Divine Council.
The church, which once held immense sway over the kingdom, would have vehemently opposed her upcoming marriage to Jerrick. However, the King’s recent decision to separate the authority of the church from the state had subdued their influence for now.
They must hate her, especially Archon Erlan. Yet, despite their disapproval, they would be compelled to conduct the wedding, for it remained a religious ceremony sanctioned by the state. The irony of their situation must gnaw at them incessantly.
Seeing Erlan preside over the sorrowful scene filled Jessamyn with a mix of rage and sorrow. Despite the official separation of church and state, his presence was a stark reminder of the church’s lingering power over the masses.
She glanced at Jerrick, who walked resolutely toward the stairs, his steps unwavering. The crowd parted respectfully for the archduke, yet their disapproving eyes fell heavily on her. Some did get wondered about her beauty while others tried to overlook her beauty and focus only on the stories they heard about her.
She overheard their whispers, one equating her arrival in the capital with the tragic fate of the young girls.
Jessamyn clenched her fists, fighting the wave of anger and guilt. She had a clue about what had befallen those poor souls. They were likely kidnapped and moved across the forest to be smuggled to Altania. However, something must have gone wrong, and the smugglers, known for their ruthlessness, had killed the girls before fleeing.
They tended to kill their "cargo," as they heartlessly named those pitiful women and children, to ensure their anonymity and also to force the guards of the kingdom to not act rashly against them fearing the loss of the life of the innocents.
This grim reality was the reason Jessamyn, as the Purple Hood, would ambush them only when she was certain she could take them all out. Any miscalculation on her part would endanger the lives of those kidnapped.
It was a delicate balance—striking with enough force to eliminate the threat without provoking the smugglers into a desperate, deadly act. Every mission required precise timing and ruthless efficiency. She had her trusted crossbows and poisons for that.
If she were there in the forest, those girls probably might not have lost their lives. She let out a deep breath. If Isadora had been with them, she would have said a prayer for those poor girls.
Jessamyn also thought about the white wolf that took away the smugglers the last time she hunted. Would he have missed me?
As they reached the marble steps of the Divine Judiciary Council, Archon Erlan stood up. "What an impeccable timing! Our Archduke is here..."
Jessamyn noticed a merchant standing by the pillar with his hands clutched together. He bowed in respect for Jerrick.
Jessamyn tried to pull away from Jerrick’s grip, wanting to stay at the bottom of the stairs. She knew the Archons wouldn’t like a woman standing as an equal to them on the elevated platform. But Jerrick held her firmly, attempting to lead her up the stairs.
"Jerrick, please," she whispered, her voice tight with urgency. She didn’t want to cause a scene, but she couldn’t bring herself to stand beside the Archons.
Eventually, sensing her distress, Jerrick reluctantly released her hand and continued up alone. Jessamyn stayed behind, her gaze shifting to the coffins. Each girl bore a slash across her neck, slaughtered like an animal.
Her heart twisted in anguish and fury, her fists clenching tightly at her sides.
Jerrick reached the top of the stairs, bowing first to the statue of Goddess Levana and then to Archon Erlan. The Archon waved his hand, and a seat was brought for Jerrick. From his elevated position, Jerrick glanced down at Jessamyn. She bowed her head in deference, making it clear she wouldn’t join him on the high platform.
"You were saying..." Archon Erlan prompted a merchant standing nearby.
The merchant’s voice quivered as he spoke, "I saw someone wearing a purple-colored hood running away."
Jessamyn’s head shot up, her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes widened in shock.
What!?
