"Of course."Duke Rhinecliff rose from his seat. Death by immolation, but no pyre was built. Did Evelyn believe him to be some sort of Wizard-Duke? It was a grim affair, but he allowed himself a moment of levity, at least in his mind. A consignment to the flames was preferable to the axe or the noose. It was, in a way, a recommended death, in terms of what was to follow. And who else but a 'family friend' to perform the last rites before a living cremation? He took another draw of his cigar, tapping some ash off into the tray. A glance towards Duchess Agustria, another towards Sir Hayworth, and he was off.
With steady, certain steps, he ascended the platform, until he was on the same level as Sev, looking down at the man. Fresh injuries were upon him, staining the rags he was dressed up in. If the Wizard-Queen knew any better, she would've have made him drunk, showed him off as the disgrace he was that night, rather than give him opportunity to regain his dignity. Dark eyes glanced at the mundane shackles. Laurent would have been impressed if Sev had hidden his magical tutelage this entire time, only seeking to reveal it
now, but something like that was only a good story. The most important thing...
"Good, you still have your tongue."...was confirmed as he grasped the man's face and pried his mouth open.
"As one who bears duchal blood, Sev, you are granted privileges that others shall not. Though your people are not here, speak now, and die knowing that your words shall be carried to them, that this moment will be how you will be eulogized. You are, after all, already destined for death. What reasons remain for you to watch your words?"The tip of the cigar glowed, turning ash-white.
The timer was set.