The Villainess Wants To Retire-Chapter 273: Trust

"People of Nevareth."

Eris called as she descended the palace steps with deliberate calm, each movement measured, controlled, projecting authority without aggression.

The crowd watched her approach, some with hatred burning in their eyes, others with grief so raw it was painful to witness, still others with calculating expressions that suggested agenda beyond mourning.

She stopped several feet from the gate’s opening, close enough to be heard clearly but maintaining distance that allowed guards to intervene if necessary. Close enough to show courage, far enough to appear reasonable rather than reckless.

"I hear you," she began, voice carrying across the sudden silence. Not shouting, not projecting imperial command, just speaking with clarity that demanded attention.

"I hear your anger. I hear your grief. And I want to hear your grievances. Directly. Honestly. Without intermediaries translating or softening what you need to say."

A man near the front, Master Toren, the smith who’d lost his son, stepped forward with banner still clutched in weathered hands.

"You brought demons to our doorstep! Fire magic doesn’t belong in Nevareth, and you, you’re the proof! Hundreds of lives dead because of you!"

Eris didn’t flinch from the accusation. Didn’t defend herself immediately or dismiss his pain with logic about who actually summoned the demons.

"Your son," she said instead, voice gentling. "He died in the attack. I saw his name on the casualty list. Tomas. Sixteen years old. Apprentice smith learning his father’s trade."

Toren’s face crumpled slightly, surprised she knew, surprised she’d bothered to learn.

"I cannot bring him back," Eris continued quietly. "I cannot undo what happened or erase your loss. But I can tell you with absolute certainty that I did not summon those demons. Someone did, someone with access to forbidden magic and willingness to sacrifice innocent lives for political gain. And I am going to find them. I am going to ensure they face justice for every name on that casualty list."

"Pretty words," someone shouted from deeper in the crowd, one of Viktor’s planted agitators, recognizable by the rehearsed quality of his outrage. "We’ve heard promises before! How do we know you’re not lying? How do we know you didn’t bring this curse upon us?"

Eris turned her attention toward the voice, expression unchanging. "You don’t. Not yet. Trust isn’t given freely, and I haven’t earned yours. But I’m offering something concrete."

She looked around the assembled crowd, meeting as many eyes as would hold her gaze.

"I want formal meetings. Not with me standing behind gates while you shout from outside, but real dialogue. Send representatives, people you trust to speak for your districts, your guilds, your families. They can meet with me, with the Emperor, with whoever you need to hear your concerns directly. Bring evidence if you have it. Bring questions. Bring your rage if that’s what you need to express."

Vena spoke up, her voice trembling but determined. "My daughter died in those flames. She was eight years old. Eight. And you expect us to just... talk? To sit calmly while you promise justice that may never come?"

"No," Eris said with unexpected gentleness. "I don’t expect calm. I don’t expect forgiveness. I expect anger, because that’s what I would feel if someone had taken my child from me. But I’m asking for a chance to prove through actions, not words, that I am not your enemy. That the person responsible for your daughter’s death is still walking free, still scheming, and still counting on your grief to shield them from consequences."

She paused, letting that sink in.

"Someone wanted you to blame me. Wanted this exact reaction, citizens rising up against the foreign bride, dividing the empire, making it easier to maintain their own power while you suffer. And every moment we spend fighting each other is a moment they spend covering their tracks, destroying evidence, planning their next move."

Merchant Aldus, one of Viktor’s carefully cultivated targets, tried to redirect. "You’re trying to deflect blame! Classic manipulation, making us think there’s some conspiracy when the truth is obvious, "

"Then let’s examine the obvious," Eris cut in smoothly. "I arrived in Nevareth weeks ago. In that time, did I attack anyone? Did I threaten citizens? Did I do anything except prepare for a wedding that would solidify alliance between two nations?"

She gestured toward the outer districts visible in the distance.

"Yesterday, I spent hours helping with reconstruction. Using fire magic, yes, the same magic you fear, to forge materials, provide water, create warmth for families who’d lost their homes. Commander Ryse can verify this. The smiths I worked with can verify this. The families whose shelters I heated can verify this."

She looked directly at Aldus. "If I wanted to harm Nevareth, if I was the monster you’ve been told I am, why would I waste my time helping rebuild? Why not simply burn more districts? Why save anyone?"

The logic was simple, elegant, undeniable. Murmurs spread through the crowd, not agreement necessarily, but uncertainty, which was progress.

"Because," Eris continued, voice strengthening, "I chose to come here. Chose to leave my kingdom, my power, everything familiar, to build something new. To restore an alliance between fire and ice that everyone said was impossible. And someone is terrified enough of that alliance succeeding that they were willing to murder hundreds of innocent people to stop it."

She stepped closer to the gates, close enough that guards tensed but didn’t intervene.

"So I’m asking you, genuinely asking, not commanding, give me the chance to prove my innocence through actions instead of condemning me based on assumptions. Send your representatives. Bring your evidence. Question me as thoroughly as you need. But do it seeking truth rather than confirmation of what you’ve already decided to believe."

Soren watches with a little smirk that said he was proud of his wife to be.

Theron the Pale, leader of the ice purist faction, tried to reignite the anger. "The Emperor is compromised! He can’t see clearly because she’s bewitched him! We need to protect Soren from, "

"I need no protection."

Soren’s voice cut across the crowd like blade through silk. He’d remained silent until now, letting Eris speak, but this crossed a line.

He moved to stand behind her, towering Eris without effort, ice magic radiating from him in waves that made the air itself feel dangerous.

"I am Emperor of Nevareth. I have ruled for five years, survived assassination attempts, won border wars, and navigated political conspiracies that would make your heads spin."

His eyes swept the crowd with winter’s full fury.

"The suggestion that I cannot recognize manipulation when I see it is insulting. The implication that I would allow anyone, foreign bride or otherwise, to compromise my judgment regarding my empire’s safety is treasonous."

The crowd shifted nervously. This was their emperor speaking now, not the distant figure who made decisions from palace walls but the Ice Emperor who could freeze armies solid.

"Lady Eris has offered you genuine dialogue," Soren continued, voice dropping to something colder, more dangerous.

"Meetings without preconditions. Answers to questions. Transparency regarding the investigation Into who actually summoned those demons. You can accept this offer and potentially find justice for your losses. Or you can continue shouting accusations that serve only those who orchestrated the attack in the first place."

He let silence stretch, let them feel the weight of choice.

"So decide. Now. Do you want justice? Or do you want convenient scapegoat?"

Master Toren looked at his banner, at the words, then at Soren standing freely beside the woman they’d accused of controlling him. The cognitive dissonance was visible on his weathered face.

"We want justice," he said finally, quietly. "Real justice. Not... not more death."

Goodwife Vena wiped her eyes. "If there’s someone else responsible... if you can prove it... I want them to pay. I want my daughter’s death to mean something."

The genuine grievers, and they were majority, despite Viktor’s planted agitators, began nodding. Lowering their banners. Not embracing Eris necessarily, but no longer calling for her blood.

The agitators continued shouting, but their voices sounded hollow now, performative rather than passionate. The crowd’s energy had shifted, and no amount of rehearsed outrage could recapture momentum once lost.

"First meeting tomorrow afternoon," Eris said clearly. "Choose five representatives. More if needed. Bring whatever evidence or concerns you have. We’ll answer every question honestly, and we’ll share what we’ve discovered about the actual culprits."

She turned to leave, then paused, looking back at them one final time.

"I know what it’s like to be feared. To be called monster. To have people whisper prayers that gods will finally claim me and free them from tyranny." Her voice carried genuine pain, genuine understanding. "I lived that life for years. And I’m trying desperately not to repeat it here. But I cannot do that alone. I need you to give me the chance to be something different than what you’ve been told I am."

She walked back through the gates with Soren behind her, guards closing formation protectively around them.

The crowd began dispersing slowly. Some still angry, most confused, a few cautiously hopeful. They’d come expecting monster and found woman instead, scarred, honest, willing to face their accusations directly rather than hiding behind imperial authority.

From a distance, Viktor Virelya watched with barely contained fury. His carefully orchestrated protest had been defused not through force but through the one thing he hadn’t prepared them for.

Eris’s humanity.

The villainess, it seemed, had learned more than destruction in her two lifetimes.

She’d learned how to reach hearts instead of burning them.