Lloyd moved his gaze to the stout woman, Elara. "Elara Gable. Your son, young Tim, suffers from the Grey Lung sickness, does he not? Requires expensive imported herbs from the Southern Isles, herbs far beyond your means as a washerwoman." His voice softened slightly, a hint of sympathy that made the underlying implication even sharper. "A desperate situation. One that makes a mother vulnerable. Perhaps vulnerable enough to accept… assistance? Funds delivered discreetly, ensuring Tim receives his medicine, in return for remembering events near Weaver's Alley in a particular light?"
Elara burst into tears, burying her face in her already damp apron, her shoulders shaking.
He addressed the remaining three in quick succession, his voice remaining calm, almost conversational, yet each word landed like a precisely aimed blow.
"And you, Jorn," he pointed to a burly man trying to shrink behind the others. "Caught skimming from the Guild warehouse where you work. Facing expulsion, disgrace, possibly prison. Until a certain Foreman, known to take instructions from associates of the Viscount, offered to make the problem… disappear. For a favor."
"Hendry," he fixed his gaze on a pale youth. "Involved in that brawl near the docks last week? The one where the Harbormaster's nephew got his jaw broken? Charges were about to be pressed. Magically, they vanished. Coincidentally, right after you agreed to 'witness' something for certain influential people."
"And finally, Martha," he looked at the last woman, older, face etched with worry lines. "Your daughter's impending marriage. To a respectable merchant's son. A marriage threatened by the resurfacing of an old, embarrassing family scandal from your youth. A scandal someone," his eyes flickered meaningfully towards Rubel, "dug up and threatened to reveal. Unless you cooperated."
He paused, letting the weight of the individual exposures sink in, watching the complete collapse of the witnesses' composure. Their terrified silence, their tears, their trembling, spoke louder than any forced testimony ever could.
"Five people," Lloyd concluded, turning slowly away from the wreckage of their credibility to face his father and uncle directly. "Five lives, each with a vulnerability. Debt, desperation, fear of disgrace, legal trouble, blackmail. Levers. All conveniently pulled by individuals connected, directly or indirectly, to my esteemed uncle, Viscount Rubel Ferrum." His gaze locked onto Rubel's, cold and sharp. "Coincidence? Or a rather clumsy pattern of coercion and bribery?"
Rubel Ferrum's face had transformed from smug confidence to disbelief, then rapidly darkening fury. The smoothness vanished, replaced by a harsh rigidity. "Lies! Slander! How dare you impugn these honest folk based on rumor and speculation!" he snarled, taking a step forward, his voice losing its controlled modulation.
"Rumor?" Lloyd raised an eyebrow, pulling a neatly folded sheaf of parchments from within his tunic – Ken Park's overnight report, concise and damning. "I assure you, Uncle, this is far more than rumor. Dates, names, amounts, connections… documented." He didn't offer the parchments, merely tapped them lightly, letting the implication hang. "Shall I elaborate further? Perhaps discuss the specific moneylender, the foreman, the source of the blackmail material?"
Rubel visibly recoiled, his face paling slightly. He recognized the threat. Lloyd wasn't bluffing.
"And now," Lloyd continued, his voice regaining its calm, almost gentle tone as he turned towards the two young girls who stood frozen, watching the proceedings with wide, terrified eyes. "The final piece."
He walked towards them, stopping a respectful distance away. He crouched slightly, bringing himself closer to their level, his expression softening entirely. "Eliza? Maria?" he addressed them by names Ken had provided. "It's alright. You don't have to be afraid anymore."
The girls looked at him, then glanced fearfully towards Rubel, then back at Lloyd, tears still streaming down their faces.
"Yesterday," Lloyd said gently, "after our… encounter… I sought you out. Didn't I?"
The taller girl, Eliza, nodded hesitantly, wiping her eyes.
"And I warned you, didn't I? I told you that the people behind those men might try to silence you, or force you to lie." He paused, letting them remember. "I told you they might threaten you, or offer your families things they desperately need."
Both girls nodded again, more emphatically this time.
"And I told you," Lloyd continued, his voice full of quiet assurance, "that no matter what they threatened, no matter what they promised, the truth was your strongest shield. I told you that if you were forced to lie today, you simply had to wait for my signal, and then tell the Arch Duke everything that truly happened. Didn't I promise I would protect you if you told the truth?"
Eliza looked straight at him, a flicker of hope dawning in her tear-filled eyes. "Y-yes, Young Lord! You did! You promised!"