Chapter Ninety Nine : Blood Demanded
Chapter Ninety Nine : Blood Demanded
The council chamber was heavy with silence. Torches burned low, casting wavering shadows across the stone walls. Logan sat at the long table, hands clasped before him, though his eyes were distant, weighed down with grief.
Jeff’s chair was empty. And it seemed the whole room bent beneath the emptiness.
Corwin finally broke the silence. His voice was hoarse, edged with sorrow.
“Logan… we can’t let his death be in vain. The men who did this, Raith's old allies, or whoever still lurks in their shadows will think we are weaker now.”
Logan exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening.
“We are not weaker. Jeff gave his life to shield the city. To shield us. And I’ll see to it that the city remembers him not as a casualty, but as a hero.”
A younger council member leaned forward, voice shaking.
“But what of Evelyn? She should be here. She would have known what words to give us now… instead, she’s gone off chasing causes in another city. She left us when we needed her most.”
The words hung like a dagger.
Logan’s eyes narrowed, and he answered with a tone that silenced the chamber.
“Do not speak of her abandonment as if it were betrayal. Evelyn carries another burden—one that none of us could bear in her stead. She fights for the slaves in the other city, and though she’s far from us, she hasn’t turned her back. She still fights for justice—for them, and for us.”
Corwin nodded, though his gaze fell to the empty chair once more.
“And yet… Jeff’s blood stains our streets. His killers still walk free. Logan, what will you do? Will you chase vengeance?”
Logan leaned back, staring at the torchlight, his voice low, almost a growl.
“Not vengeance. Justice. But make no mistake they will pay. Whoever ordered his death will know what it is to be hunted. I swear it.”
The younger councilman swallowed, his fear plain.
“Then… then what of the people? The city is restless. Whispers spread like fire rumors that the council is broken, that the old powers are stirring again. If we falter now, they will devour us.”
Logan turned, fixing him with a sharp gaze.
“Then we will not falter. We will hold this city together, by oath or by steel if we must. Jeff’s death is not the end of us. It is the reminder that we cannot yield, not now.”
Silence settled again. The council bowed their heads in reluctant agreement.
When the meeting broke, Logan remained behind, staring at Jeff’s chair. His hand brushed against the carved wood, his throat tightening.
“You should have lived, brother,” he whispered. “But if you couldn’t… then I’ll carry the weight you left behind.”
The city beyond Gevan’s walls seemed brighter, though Logan knew it was an illusion of sunlight on cracked stone and merchant cries covering deeper shadows. He had left Evelyn’s city behind, bearing her burden as if it were his own, and in this new place he sought allies for the slaves who still lived as chattel under the law.
But fate demanded blood.
Jeff had followed him faithfully, always quick with humor in the darkest hours, always ready to stand between Logan and the blade. That loyalty, however, was the price demanded this time.
It happened in the alleys near the tribunal square, where whispers of rebellion had begun to take root. Logan and Jeff had just left a gathering of freedmen when the ambush came. Steel clanged from both ends of the alley, shadows moving with merciless precision.
Jeff was the first to react. “Logan back!” He shoved him aside, intercepting the blade meant for his chest.
“Jeff, no!” Logan’s voice broke as he struck back, his sword cutting one attacker down, but more swarmed.
Jeff staggered, blood spilling fast. “Doesn’t matter… one of us has to make it through. You’ve got the voice, Logan. You’ve got her trust. Don’t waste it.”
Logan caught him before he fell fully, their foreheads nearly touching. “Don’t you dare leave me, Jeff. We fight together. Always.”
Jeff gave a weak laugh, even as his breath rattled. “Always… just means one of us has to carry the memory.” His hand squeezed Logan’s wrist, trembling, then stilled.
The alley roared with noise, but Logan heard nothing but silence. His grip tightened on Jeff’s cooling hand before rage overtook his grief. He rose, his blade a storm, cutting down those who had laid the trap. When it was over, the alley was littered with bodies, but none of them mattered, only Jeff, lifeless, his loyalty sealing Logan’s path in blood.
Logan knelt once more, whispering through clenched teeth, “I swear, Jeff, I’ll make this mean something. They’ll know your name. They’ll remember who stood for the broken when others turned away.”
And when he rose, he did not leave the body for carrion. He carried Jeff himself to the gates, demanding a burial worthy of a man who had given everything not just to Logan, but to the cause.
The council of freedmen gathered in silence, their eyes wide as Logan laid Jeff upon the stone altar in the square.
“This city takes the lives of the innocent and brave,” Logan declared, his voice breaking yet strong enough to carry. “But it will not take his name. It will not take his fight. From this day forward, we carry both.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd. A seed had been planted nourished not by speeches or banners, but by sa
sacrifice.
And Logan knew: the war for justice had already begun.