Reborn I Refuse To Save The Traitors (Margaery) novel Chapter 83

**TITLE: Whispers Shape Distant Tomorrows by Aren Cole Vale**
**Chapter 83: Aggrieved**

Margaery, still groggy and disoriented, felt an absurd urge to laugh as the words echoed in her ears. The irony was almost comical.

She had spent an entire day and night kneeling in the Chancellor’s estate, and yet, not a single soul seemed concerned that she might suffer from a lifetime of rheumatism.

But now, with Raul’s situation at the forefront, suddenly everyone was worried about illness.

Joshua, unable to sway Dashnell’s resolve, pivoted and attempted to manipulate Margaery with guilt. The whole scene felt utterly ridiculous.

Just as Margaery opened her mouth to respond, Dashnell’s hand pressed firmly against hers, silencing her.

Caught off guard, she watched as Dashnell turned his icy gaze toward Joshua, his eyes as unyielding as the depths of a frozen lake. “First and foremost, it was I who commanded your father to kneel outside the gates. Margaery cannot intercede for him.”

“Secondly,” he continued, his voice dripping with disdain, “his suffering is of my making, and I take great satisfaction in it.”

Joshua’s face reflected shock, his eyes widening in disbelief.

Dashnell’s stare bore into him, frigid and unrelenting. “Leave. Now.”

A chill crept up from the ground, wrapping around Joshua’s feet and sending shivers through his spine.

He stumbled to his feet, urgency propelling him out of the room.

Never had he imagined that this seemingly idle prince, lounging within the confines of the residence, could exude such a terrifying presence—one that eclipsed even the King’s authority.

Outside, the wind howled like a beast, slicing through the air and striking his face with the sharpness of daggers. Yet, the true chill that gripped him came not from the elements but from the lingering weight of Dashnell’s gaze.

‘How has it come to this?’

But there was nothing he could do now. All he could manage was to step outside, his heart heavy as he turned to see his father, kneeling on the ground, tears of anguish streaming down his face. “Father, I pleaded with him, but Prince Dashnell refuses to grant you mercy…”

His voice faltered, thick with emotion.

“Return.”

Raul inhaled deeply, steadying himself. “Someone must oversee the residence. His third son is unreliable. You need to go back and manage the affairs at Sunbeam Court first. And send someone to keep an eye on Clyde’s side. We cannot afford any more incidents.”

His thoughts drifted back to when he first arrived in Sinderin City over a decade ago.

At that time, he had been a mere fifth-rank official, a newcomer navigating the unfamiliar landscape of the city. He had dared to dream that if he could reach the third rank in his lifetime, he would bring honor to his ancestors in the afterlife.

For years, however, his career had stagnated, showing no signs of progress.

That was until Margaery turned seven.

Through her, Simon had unexpectedly revealed the location of the former rebels hidden within Sinderin City.

In a single night, he had purged the rebels, capturing all one hundred and eighty of them in a decisive blow, alleviating the King’s most pressing concern. The King, overjoyed, had rewarded him with a promotion of two ranks.

That pivotal moment had solidified the King’s favor, allowing Raul to ascend to the esteemed position of Chancellor.

Initially, he felt a sense of gratitude toward Simon.

He believed that Simon viewed him as an ally, which gave him a sense of security in his role within the court.

After all, with both the Hall of Divinity and the Chancellor’s estate as his backing, he thought he was untouchable.

Yet now, he found himself grappling with a harsh realization: Simon had never cared for him, but rather for Margaery.

His elevation to Chancellor had not stemmed from his own merit or capability, but rather from the influence of his daughter’s reputation. He could voice no complaints, no grievances.

A wave of despair washed over him, leaving him feeling utterly defeated.

Raul hunched his shoulders, trembling under the weight of his own humiliation.

At this moment, the esteemed Chancellor found himself clinging desperately to his daughter’s influence, just to maintain a semblance of security.

The bitterness of defeat gnawed at him like a relentless tide.

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