"So, what do you make of the security situation in this city, Baron? Do you think you can contain this chaos?" Duke Victor asked, his impatience growing.
After giving Leo ample time to survey the destruction, he wanted action, as he felt eager for Leo to deploy his troops and curb the uprising at once.
Leo didn't answer immediately. Instead, he knelt, his gloved hand brushing the floor of the observatory which was now dusted with ash from the fires ravaging the city below.
He seemed detached, as if contemplating something far deeper than the Duke's question.
"Tell me something, Duke," Leo said at last, his voice calm, almost distant. His eyes never left the ash beneath his fingers as he slowly stood. "This burning city... Do you feel responsible for all this carnage?"
The Duke scoffed at the absurdity of the question, his face twisting in disdain. "Responsible? Of course not, Baron. It is not I who is responsible for this madness, but the rebels. This is their doing, not mine. Don't let their propaganda cloud your judgment…..
they are the sole reason for this city's suffering today."
Leo nodded slowly, expression unreadable, before he stepped closer, his movements deliberate, almost predatory.
The Duke however remained oblivious to his intentions, his arrogance blinding him to the undercurrent of menace building beneath Leo's calm facade.
But as Leo came within mere feet of him, the Duke finally sensed that something was wrong. His eyes flickered down to Leo's waist, where the Assassin's utility belt gleamed, lined with daggers—sharp, ready, waiting….. as a chill crept over Victor when he realized the gravity of the situation.
"And I suppose, Duke," Leo said, his voice dropping to a colder, more menacing tone, "that you believe you had nothing to do with the death of Ben Faulkner either?"
The words hung in the air like a blade poised to strike as for the first time, Duke Victor faltered. Confusion and unease spread across his face, as he wondered what Ben Faulkner might have to do with the chaos of today's rebellion?
Victor opened his mouth to respond, but the sudden, icy shift in Leo's tone and the barely concealed hostility, left him speechless as he struggled to find words to respond with.
"What... what are you saying?" the Duke stammered, his voice trembling as he searched Leo's eyes.
However, instead of finding a reasonable man, what he found in his eyes was not the dutiful Baron he had known—but instead a man consumed with rage.
Pure, unbridled rage.
And it was only then that the reality of the situation slammed into him with a force he wasn't prepared for.
And when he finally realized the situation he found himself in, it sent goosebumps racing up his spine, as a cold sweat broke across his skin, and without realizing it, he took a shaky, involuntary step back.
"You were there that night, weren't you?" Leo continued, his words sharp as knives. "You watched it happen... and did nothing as they took his life."
Victor stood frozen, his mind scrambling to make sense of the sudden, terrifying shift in the man he had always seen as loyal. His mouth opened and closed, searching for something—anything—to say that might save him.
"I-I had no choice, Baron," Victor managed, his voice breaking as he raised his hands defensively, trying to steady his shaking legs. "You must understand, it wasn't my fault. I didn't kill Ben Faulkner—I had no role in his death!"
Leo's response was immediate and decisive.
"No." he said, his voice now sounding like ice, a stark contrast to the flames roaring around them.
"You didn't kill him. But you let it happen. You stood there, Victor. You watched, and you did nothing."
The Duke swallowed hard as Leo's hand drifted toward the hilt of one of his daggers.
Panic gripped him as he saw Leo pull on it, as he immediately expressed his protest.
"W-what are you doing, Baron?" Victor stammered, his voice rising in desperation. "I'm your Duke! Stop this at once… Don't force me to call the guards and have you arrested. Restrain yourself!"
But seemingly undeterred by his words, Leo only took another step forward, his movements slow and deliberate like a predator closing in on wounded prey as with conviction, his fingers curled around the hilt of the dagger, unsheathing it in one smooth, unmistakable motion.
Victor's breath quickened, his pulse hammering in his ears as he saw the cold resolve in Leo's eyes.
He searched frantically for an escape, any means to summon his guards, but it was too late. Leo was too close, and his intent was unmistakable.
"I see you for what you truly are now," Leo said, his voice low and steady, each word dripping with contempt. "A man who stands idle in the face of injustice. A coward."
Victor's heart raced as Leo stepped even closer, the dagger now gleaming in the firelight. "But don't worry, Duke," Leo added, his tone chilling, "you won't stand by any longer. I'm going to make sure you play an active role in this war."
Victor swallowed hard, his throat dry. "W-what are you talking about?" he croaked, the terror now evident in his voice.
Leo's eyes gleamed beneath the mask, a twisted smile curling his lips. "You will no longer be a spectator, Victor. You will become a symbol. A symbol of the rebellion's strength and inevitability. Your death will be the message we send to everyone who thinks they can stand by and do nothing. Your life may have been worthless, but in death, you'll finally have meaning."
The Duke's knees buckled as the weight of Leo's words sank in. He nearly collapsed, trembling, his finger weakly pointing at Leo in disbelief.
"You? You're with the rebels?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper, his terror-stricken face contorting with shock.
Leo tilted his head slightly, amused. "Yes," he said, his voice dripping with cold satisfaction. "I am their leader."