Chapter 079. Vol 3 - Abuse of Faith:
Marcus, Commander of the Blue Firestorm Chapter, had never felt so nervous in his life. Never, in all the winters he had served the king, had he called to actually meet the king. Usually this would be considered a honour, but not today, not like this. After the Qaiviel forces, mercenaries in the employ of Duchess Belinda, had successfully defeated the combined Orc and Clansmen invasion he sent a letter to the king, King Lambert Qaiviel III, telling him what happened and what he saw. Specifically the Grand Mage and the Blood Berserker. From the man's demonstration to Castor about his magical prowess Marcus was sure that the king would need to know. Even if it turned out that this, so called, Grand Mage was not a threat to the king he would need them to be watched closely. What was most surprising was the speed of the reply. It had barely been a few days since sending the message when a message returned. The messenger who gave him the letter's horse was on its last legs and died a few moments after stopping at their fort. He didn't understand why this message was so important, especially when the invasion had successfully thwarted with minimal losses on their side. Without the Grand Mage, the silver haired Blood Berserker and the cloth wrapped archer, they may not have been able to defeat the Orc and Clansmen invasion so easily.
The letter told him to ride to the capital with all haste. It also told him that failure to do so, in an acceptable time frame, would result in the dissolution of his entire Knight Order Chapter. That too was something that he had never heard of before, to destroy an entire order, that protected the border from constant Clansmen attack, for simply turning up late. Something was happening in the king's court. Marcus had the distinct impression that it had something to do with the Church of the Holy Father. They had been sinking their fangs into his neck for some time now. As the winter's passed their influence over him became greater and the Knight Orders were constantly annoyed and harassed by a growing number religious fanatics at every turn.
Now Marcus, and his immediate subordinate, Castor, stood outside the main door to the throne room of King Lambert Qaiviel III. Their was no one else with them, so they had to wait in silence. It would be grossly appropriate for either of them to enter the King's throne room without an official invitation. That that could very well get Marcus, and his entire Knight order, destroyed from a single action. He pushed down his discomfort and waited for someone to arrive. There was little to see other than the giant door the lead to the King's throne room. This door was deliberately designed to equally intimidate and impress those that were to meet the king. Made from a giant oak tree, a size that Marcus didn't even know existed, the doors were adorned with meticulous engravings and golden markings. Every inch showed some heroic battle with the forces of Qaiviel emerging triumphant over some unspeakable horror. A dragon, a chimera, an unending swarm of goblins emerging from the depths and a hoard of Centaur rampaging through the countryside. Marcus had fought the last two and hoped he would never have to fight the first two. They were only myths and legends now, and for that Marcus was grateful. He had no idea how Knight Orders of today would deal with such terrible threats. Perhaps that was why he had been brought here today, but the threat was from three individuals from the east. A land that was supposed to be dead and overrun by beasts and monsters the likes and numbers of which he had no comprehension.
Castor stood beside him, his armour polished to the finest degree. The blue emblem of their order, the blue fire, had been meticulously polished for nearly the whole time they had been in the capital. They were not allowed to carry weapons but Castor had sneaked in a small blade hidden underneath the chest plate of his armour. Marcus too had concealed weapons, two small blades hidden in his armoured boots and another along the back of his chest armour, and another two hidden up is shoulder armour plates. Marcus felt that he may be a little paranoid but with the state of the King and of that church's involvement and the strange letter he wanted to be ready for anything.
“My Lord.” Castor turned towards him. “Why are you carrying so many weapons?”
Marcus shrugged. “I don't want to be unprepared. Worst that happens is that I have carried around some extra steel for no good reason.”
Castor nodded but he still didn't look entirely convinced. While this was the first time Marcus had been to the King's throne room this was the first time Castor had been to the capital. In the past few days he had quite a reality check. First, some of his attitudes had started to change. His close brush with death, at the hands of the Grand Mage Anton, had tempered his aggression somewhat. There were times when he would have lashed out at someone of lower birth and status for approaching a member of the Knight Orders without the correct attitude. Now that was…Diminished. Slightly. There were often times when Marcus could see Castor straining to maintain himself in a calm state when the men handling the horses, men of lower birth than he, handled them a bit roughly. Not enough to cause them any actual pain but enough for them to be clearly a little distressed. Marcus himself had expected them, as part of the Royal stables, to handle them a little better.
“Where are these people?” Castor asked, clearly on the verge of knocking on the door to see what was happening. “Are they normally like this?”
Marcus nodded. "This is your first time meeting the king, and all those that feed off of him. They need to prepare him for the words that are about to come. So we don't...scare him.”
Castor nodded but Marcus was sure that he didn't quite understand the implication. Finally the door opened a fraction, and a young man exited. Judging by the colour, and the quality, of his clothes he was someone very, very close to the King. They didn't allow anyone to wear drab and tattered clothing in their presence, even if they were a peasant receiving an honour. Hopefully this was the person they were waiting for.
“My Lords Marcus and Castor.” The young man spoke without a hint of an accent or dialect of any kind, it'd probably been beaten out of him. “King Lambert Qaiviel III awaits your presence.”
Without waiting for a reply he turned and signalled behind the door. Both doors opened with a tremendous groan, four heavily armed and armoured Qaiviel soldiers pulled the door open. Marcus tilted his head slightly towards the young man as he guested for Castor to follow him as well. He moved closely to his subordinate. “Whatever you do, don't speak unless you are spoken to. These are people that are highly stuck in their ways and they won't hesitate to punish you for the tiniest perceived slight. And they're always looking to take down the Knight Orders for any perceived slight.”
Castor nodded slowly and did his utmost to keep his hands as his side. “Dealing with that Grand Mage was easier. Even If I had to give up that bow because of what I said....Still, I didn't realised how much gold Governor Eilis had managed to acquire.”
“That was nothing compared to some of the fortunes that these people have acquired.” Marcus whispered back. “So do your best not to upset them.”
Castor nodded and didn't speak again. They walked into the throne room now open to them, moving very slowly along a very soft carpet, easily dented by their heavy weight pressing down upon it. Judging by the marks left on the carpet it was brand new. Was one of these brought out every time someone important came to see the King? It was a possibility.
After Marcus took a few steps on the carpet he looked up and observed the room, immediately regretting and wishing he hadn't. He had expected this to be a private meeting with the King, and some of his advisers at most. That was the implication of the letter he had received. However the throne room was almost completely filled with people. Full of Nobles of the Qaiviel Kingdom. Marcus had always been on the fringes of the kingdom, and did not have the time or energy to keep up with the latest trends and fashion of the capital and nearby major cities. He found some of their fashion choices to be quite repugnant, especially for someone usually stuck out in the relative wilderness where flamboyance and bright colours was a detriment and a great way to make yourself a giant target. Why the Bebbezzarians wore bright colours he didn't understand.
The nobles of Qaiviel wore bright and brilliantly extravagant clothes, like they were straight out of a children's tale, where fanciful balls and dances were commonplace. None of it looked even remotely practical. The women wore near completely encompassing dresses the reached the ground and appeared to grow outwards like their top half rested on a gigantic pumpkin. The men wore ridiculous layers of bright clothing, their hair dyed white and styled in such strange and exaggerated ways that only the women were able to match. Many wore a white powder on their faces, a powder that Marcus had heard was known to induce madness, not that he had seen this for himself. At least the men and women looked equally stupid in Marcus's eyes. He didn't know what Castor thought of them, he was glad that if he did have any thoughts he was keeping them to himself.
The nobles were not what concerned Marcus the most. Near the end of the long sweeping carpet, and near the King's throne, were dozens upon dozens of nights just like himself. These did not wear same armour as Marcus and Castor, or even each other. These were Knight Order representatives, each man present had nearly the same powers and responsibilities as someone in Marcus's position. Why there were almost thirty of them assembled, nearly all of the Knight orders, here he did not know. He didn't like the implication.
Two Knights caught his attention, one in a near all-encompassing black and another in a bright gold and amber coloured armour. Representatives from the Black Riders and the Golden Roar. Why people from those two near completely disgraced orders were present was what concerned Marcus deeply.
Behind them, and to side of the King, were old men, dressed in brightly coloured robes. These were the representatives from Church of the Holy Father. Their actions made Marcus's skin crawl. There were always rumours about these people, even as far out as the Border Forts, and none of them good. What disturbed Marcus the most was that it usually involved money, corruption, and most disturbingly, young children. To what end the latter were brought to the priests he did not know, but he had his suspicions.
The King himself, King Lambert Qaiviel III, sat in the ornate throne at the end of the room. It was far larger than the man sitting in it but it clearly demonstrated the man's near limitless power and authority. Even if that authority was being eroded by the ancient men in robes beside him. The King himself was relatively old, well into his seventieth winter. However that had not taken away the strength that Marcus could see in his eyes, even if his body was beginning to fail. He wore the ceremonial bright purple clothes of the King, the ornate golden crown lay slightly askew on his head. Did no one notice? Or did no one have the courage to tell him?
As Marcus and Castor approached he heard the nobles snigger as they passed. He couldn't make out the words but he knew that they were laughing and besmirching them the moment they had their backs to them, what little he could make out all involved their appearance and their Knight Orders lack of relative prestige in the capital. He was sure that they knew that without the Blue Fire Storm Order, and another two Orders, protecting their borders against the constant threat of Clansmen invasion their entire kingdom and their way of life would be not be possible in its current form. Sometimes these people needed reminding, though Marcus knew it wasn't the time.
The representatives of the Knight Orders, for the most part, didn't join in on the nobles chattering and laughing. Those of the Golden Roar, Marcus quickly realised there were three of them present, did appear to join in. A lone man from the Black Riders said nothing and watched them approach with a strange cold indifference.
When they reached about twenty feet away from throne itself, Marcus stopped and dropped to one knee. He quickly glanced at Castor and the man followed his lead. The young man who had opened the door raced past them and stood to the side of the King.
“Your Majesty.” he began in a voice that echoed throughout the room. “I present to you Marcus of the Blue Firestorm Knight Order, and his second-in-command, Castor.”
The King looked from the young man and at Marcus, his eyes somewhat distant and cold when he looked at the boy, not in keeping with the brilliant green that looked down towards Marcus. He shuffled his throne, a light groan emitting as he twisted his hip and pushed himself hard against back the throne.
“Thank you for coming so quickly.” he began, his voice clear and authoritative, though sounding a little old and worn. “I know that it is a long way form the Border Forts to the capital. I trust the trip wasn’t too arduous for men of your calibre?”
Is this some sort of game? A test from the King? And with so many people present too.
Marcus dared a quick peek towards Castor. Thankfully the man was keeping his head down and waiting for Marcus to say something.
Can't wait too much longer. Just stick to something simple.
“The trip was long, my King, but your message gave the clear implication that we were to arrive here at all speed, no matter what our discomfort.”
Lambert nodded once and looked to one of the old men from the Church of the Holy Father. This one wore a particularly resplendent red robe, the intense colour tried its best to cover for the man's obvious age but may have exhausted it instead. Hundreds of wrinkles and deep grooves covered his face, though it appeared he to had not lost his intelligence from age. Marcus received a decidedly bad vibe from the man, especially as the King looked to him to speak next even though he seemed perfectly capable of speech.
“Lord Marcus, of the Blue Fire Storm chapter, I am Inquisitor Tirell.” He pulled out a letter from the inside of his robes, the one that Marcus had sent the King only a few days prior. “Your letter contains some…Interesting, words.”
A few of the nobles behind them began to snigger even louder, though they were silenced by the quick glare from the majority of their Knight Order representatives. At least they had their side, for now.
“Everyone present has been made aware of the claims and contents of this letter, Lord Marcus. We understand that the annual Clansmen invasion was considerably different this time. This time is involved nearly thirty thousand Orcs as well as the same again of Clansmen. What concerns us is not that in itself, but these other people that are referenced in this letter.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Specifically the Grand Mage and the Blood Berserker that fought alongside the Qaiviel forces.”
“I will answer as I am capable.” Marcus replied.
“As you are able, or as you are willing?” came another voice. Marcus turned and saw one of the Golden Roar's representatives smiling down towards him. He, and his fellows, had a tremendous amount of gold jewellery on their fingers. Marcus soon realised that most of their armour was adorned with gold as well. They were not fighting men, no one would would wear that much of the soft metal and expect to survive an actual battle. But where did they get that much wealth from?
King Lambert shot the man a glare, he instantly shrunk down to the size of a mouse under the King stare. He knew that he had broken a cardinal sin. To speak in the King's presence without permission, or to address the King himself outside of exceptional circumstances. He mumbled an apology, the King side lightly and shook his head, and nodded for Tirell to continue.
He coughed lightly and held up the letter again. “Could you explain to us, as the letter is a little bereft of details on the subject, of what these two individuals were doing in Qaiviel lands and how they actually helped.”
Marcus nodded. “Of course. May I please stand as I speak? My legs are rather tired and stiff after our journey, and I do not want to have to be dragged from the throne room when they fail.”
Tirell received a nod from the King, who then nodded at Marcus. He sighed as he stood up and motioned for Castor to do the same. He appeared quite relieved to be standing tall though he wisely kept his head down slightly.
Marcus knew he had to be very careful of what he said. While the concept of a Grand Mage was not uncommon or alien, there were at six mages within Qaiviel that could be called that, it didn't directly go against the teachings of the Holy Father. The fact that he didn't appear to use a charm was an issue. That meant he used the powers of the Old Gods, and was extremely powerful, far more so than what an actual Grand Mage. Another issue was the silver haired Blood Berserker, that he only heard the name of once, Verona. Their kind were considered heretical by the Church of the Holy Father. However none of the Qaiviel forces involved with countering the invasion had done nothing to remove such a stain upon the kingdom. They all knew that she was a tremendously powerful mage, even if the people currently present wouldn't recognise it, and appeared to be in a relationship with the Grand Mage. There was no way that Marcus was going to commit suicide by attacking them. Especially after they had helped to save the Kingdom. The cloth covered archer, that Anton gave the gifted bow to, was a mystery to Marcus but not an issue right now.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“Thank you.” Marcus said. “From what I understand, I only met them twice, they were mercenaries hired to defend our lands from the Orc and Clansmen invaders. By all accounts they did just that.”
“You met a Blood Berserker?” Tirell asked, a deep and angry frown forming on his ancient face. “A walking bastion of heresy and heretical magic and you did nothing?”
This is starting to feel a bit like a trail, where I've already been convicted of a crime. Still, there's no easy way out of this one.
Marcus nodded. “Yes.”
Gasps and murmurs filled the air, the assembled nobles doing their best dramatic acting to convey their shock and horror. Marcus was sure that none of them even knew what a Blood Berserker was or why they were so dangerous. It wasn't just their power at using spilled blood against their enemies but it was the rage. The uncontrollable rage that tore through their bodies and minds. He had only met one in battle and it was something he never wanted to do again. The screams and howls of the deranged man as he cut apart friend and foe was something that he never wanted to experience again.
The priests looked horrified, but didn't play it up as much. His fellow Knights either stared blankly or had a light frown on their faces. As military men he hoped that they understood that there were times where one couldn't just kill everything in sight in the name of their god.
King Lambert raised his hand and the noise stopped. It was funny to see how quickly the nobles were brought to heel with a single motion.
“Why?” Tirell asked flatly and devoid of emotion.
Marcus coughed again, giving him precious moments to think. “Have any of you fought a Blood Berserker before?”
Tirell and the other priests shook their heads. At least they were being honest.
“The only one that I have ever seen and fought was when I was very young. I wasn't even allowed to wear full armour then.” Marcus unclipped his left shoulder armour piece and rolled down the cloth underneath to show his collar. The bone was deformed and the skin deeply scarred. The King and the priests frowned at the sight. “The Blood Berserker I fought did that. Nearly killed me.”
“But you could have done it when you met this other Blood Berserker.” a different priest said dryly.
Marcus shook his head. “This one was already dying, and an archer brought him down. With his last ounce of strength he threw a blood crystal shard and pierced the arhcers heart. The shard travelled through and struck me. He had already killed over a hundred armoured knights and hundreds more soldiers and I don't think he was going to stop any time soon.”
“Again, you could have-”
“This girl was far more powerful. Far stronger than the one that I fought.” Marcus cut the priest off, much to his annoyance. Upon hearing the Blood Berserker was a woman, and not a man, many of the nobles began to laugh. It seemed they didn't think a woman could be a soldier, though Marcus had seen many examples to the contrary. “The red tattoos covered most of her body, from her hands right to her neck. The one that caused this only had a small mark on their chest.”
“You allowed a walking bastion of heresy move freely through the Kingdom?” Tirell asked again. He appeared to be following the usual line of repeating his accusations enough times until it became the truth and Marcus buckled under the weight of his questions. Marcus wasn't going to do that.
“I could not attack her and live, and I'm sure that she and the Grand Mage could have done far more damage to us if we dared point our swords at them.”
Castor made an involuntary flinch of his hands.
“Ridiculous. You're also saying that a Blood Berserker and a Grand Mage were working together?”
“Yes. If anything I believe that they were in some sort of relationship.”
Tirell appeared genuinely stunned. “Blood Berserkers are wild beasts that only seek to kill and maim. Their heretical god's power drives them made. They could never love or care for anything save death and destruction.”
“Because you've never seen it with your own eyes, you dismiss it instantly?”
I feel a little bit like I'm talking to Castor again.
Tirell frowned and contemplated his words for a moment.
“Not only that but the Grand Mage had killed many thousands of the enemy by himself.” Marcus continued, King Lambert and many of the Knight Order Representatives frowned at his words. A single mage, even their most powerful, couldn't do that on his own. “And I did not want to have everything we have worked for go up in flames because we tried to kill him on sight, because of what he was.” Marcus glanced at Castor. “A near incident occurred, and the Grand Mage threatened to kill everyone present.”
“You see?” the priest said, his voice almost shrill. “These people threatened the kingdom and our people!”
“Only because he was slighted.” Marcus cut him off before the King could speak. “And the issue was cleared up very easily and without further incident.”
“I read this part.” King Lambert spoke softly. “A battle at a place known as the Gravestone, where he summoned huge pillars of fire to kill ten thousand Orcs and Clansmen by himself.” he looked over the letter and straight into Marus's eyes. “Can you confirm this?”
“I cannot.” a few sniggers and suppressed chuckles filled the air. “But I trust the thousands of soldiers that said that was what happened.”
“Interesting.” King Lambert trailed off. “It also says he could use lightning?”
“Yes.”
“This is just becoming ridiculous.” the priest said. He looked to Tirell for support but none came. Tirell was content to let this play out.
“I'm sure the enemy commanders thought the same thing.” Marcus replied. He didn't want to say that he could heal people from the brink of death without using the Church's healing methods. If he told them that they would scream for everyone that had been healed by the Grand Mage to be killed. “But that's what happened.”
“A mage could easily be killed.” Tirell said. “Every mage, no matter how powerful, is just a man underneath. I expect you of all people to know that.”
Marcus knew clearly what he was implying. That even if a mage and a Blood Berserker had helped them they should have been killed the moment they had a chance, even if they were allies just a few moments before. That way of thinking made his skin crawl, the way they could treat life so callously and like it was nothing. No sense of honour or respect for their allies.
“That would have impossible for me.” Marcus replied. “He appeared to have great control of his powers and so too did the Blood Berserker. If everyone in this room tried to attack they wouldn't have a chance. You might be able to draw your sword before everyone was ash.”
Tirell smiled. “It just sounds like you aren't being very...creative.”
Marcus ground his teeth. “I don't feel like killing allies. Especially after they saved tens of thousands.” Tirell held back a look of scorn that drove Marcus mad. He felt his nerves reaching their end. “When was the last time that you left the capital to fight? When was the last time that you even fought a single Green Goblin?”
With all the attention now placed on Tirell he appeared a little nervous. “I...I have never. The Holy Father provides me with all the safety we need.”
“And that safety comes from those soldiers that you aren't listening to now.” Marcus replied. “If you can find the Blood Berserker, and the Grand Mage, and the clothed woman, then you can fight them.”
“How do you know it was a woman?” a priest asked.
Marcus couldn't help the smile that formed on his mouth. “I understand women just as well as you understand young boys.”
The priest's face instantly dyed red, the fury on his face matching his new found colour. “How dare you! I am-”
“Be quiet.” King Lambert cut him off, the priest remembering his place. “If the accusations were untrue you would have been dismissive or failed to understand. Your anger...belies your...intentions.”
The priest hung his head in shame, so too did quite a few more. Marcus saw Castor looking quite concerned at him. Usually it would be Castor to say such things, but Marcus couldn't help himself. He hated those that preyed on children like that the most.
“I think we can understand roughly what has happened.” King Lambert continued. “I will not admonish you for your decisions in battle, it has been some time since I took up a sword myself, but what we want to know is where these people came from and if they're a threat to the kingdom.”
“I'm sure that I said they weren't in the letter I sent.” Marcus said softly.
King Lambert nodded once. “You did. But I want to see the man who says they are not a threat to us. From your words they appeared to have come with the Qaiviel forces pursing the Orc and Clansmen invasion. That still begs the question, where-”
“Father!” a voice boomed from behind. “You started this without us?”
Marcus turned around. Entering the room through the giant oak door were three men and one woman. Judging by their clothes, ornate and brilliantly coloured with the majority of it coloured purple, but not to the excessive level of the nobles, they appeared to be royalty. They looked like his adult children.
The nobles let out feigned gasps as they passed, Marcus fighting the desire to roll his eyes at the sight of them fawning over the royals. The men looked like younger versions of King Lambert while the woman looked nothing like her father. Long golden locks cascaded down back and shoulders, immaculate manicured and maintained. King Lambert let out a rare smile as he watched them approach. They both moved to the side of their father, King Lambert, and looked at Marcus. For a moment he thought that something good might come of this, but upon seeing two of the princes faces he knew that this is not likely. Two of the Princes were smiling like maniacs, like soldiers lost in a frenzied battle, while the other Prince and Princess looked on with a blank and empty expression.
King Lambert frowned for a moment before looking towards his children. "Lord Marcus and Castor, I don't believe you've had the pleasure of meeting my children, especially being so far away from the capital. May I introduce my first son, Leo, my second son, Giles, my third son Harold and my first daughter, Lila.”
The moment he finished all four bowed their heads, not to the extent of the nobles or peasants, but enough to acknowledge that the names had been spoken. Marcus, unfortunately, couldn't tell the difference between the three young men. They looked almost identical, except perhaps Harold, the third son, he looked slightly more tired and withdrawn that his two brothers. How King Lambert knew the difference between his children he did not know.
“I thought that you were going to have us be a part of this?” Leo said, a hint of anger underneath his voice.
King Lambert shook his head lightly. “Normally I would, but this has little to do with teaching you how to run a kingdom properly. I have actually gone above what I would normally do in order to satisfy my own curiosity… And the curiosity of the Church of the Holy Father.”
Tirell, and the priests, look towards the King for a moment but said nothing.
“I'm sure that it'll be interesting nonetheless." Giles replied to his father. He appeared to have more of a grin, and almost manic energy in his face and voice.
The remaining two children said nothing instead on blankly at Marcus and Castor.
“Actually, father.” Leo looked at the nobles in front of them. “Why are they here? Why are these people gathered here today? If this is so important why are there so many of these fake, stupidly dressed sycophants?”
Marcus couldn't help a wry smile on his face. Even though he knew nothing of the children, he was already starting to like this Leo. If he could at least brush away the obvious attempts at flattery from the nobles that would already make him well on the way to being a good king.
“Yes?” King Lambert look to the priests at his side. "Why are they here?”
Marcus guessed that he actually knew who the real reason but just wanted Tirell to say it aloud. Was it an attempt by the church to gain even more power and control? And how much control do they actually have over this King? By the looks of things it seemed to be tentative at best. Perhaps they had recently gone too far and now they're experiencing a backlash, to which they brought in all these nobles to try to shore up their position.
Tirell said nothing, neither did any of the priests. King Lambert waved his hand dismissively towards them. "I understand completely why they're here. This is also not the only thing we have to discuss today, although it is by far the most interesting. Life in the capital has been rather dull recently, I'm sure that any news from the far north would gather their attention. As something to do."
King Lambert sighed heavily, glancing over their shoulder at the assembled nobles. Marcus gave a quick glance. Now they appeared much more subdued, even a few avoiding their gaze. Very few actually had the spine to meet the king's gaze.
“As I was saying before my children interrupted me. Where did these mercenaries come from?” King Lambert asked. “It doesn't sound like they appeared out of nowhere.”
Marcus took a deep breath and readied himself for what he was about to say. While knew Alfred quite well, and woman that he served, there was little that he could do to protect them. The king would eventually find out, due to spies or simply by asking the right people in places like Nonbu'rn. It wouldn't take too long to find out, and if Marcus tried to deflect the question or lied it would only serve to make things more difficult for him and everyone else in the future.
“I believe that these people were hired by Duchess Belinda.” Marcus replied.
“Duchess Belinda?” Leo asked, much to the surprise and feigned the grasps of the assembled nobles. “One of the nobles stuck on the eastern edge of the kingdom? How did she manage to get them?”
King Lambert frowned. “Where you listening in? I know there are meant to be bolthole's hidden throughout this room but I didn't think that you lot would actually go to the bother of using them.”
Leo and Giles smiled while the other two still looked on blankly. Marcus got the distinct impression that both of them didn't want to be here. There was something going on with the royal families that he wanted to have nothing to do with.
“Well, since you know already, it is surprising that someone so far away could gather these people.” King Lambert said.
“It sounds like Duchess Belinda is consulting with heretics.” Marcus expected it to be Tirell that spoke, or one of the priests, but it wasn't. It was the man from the Golden Roar, a wicked smile on his face. “I have heard that she has recently acquired a vast amount of territory and wealth. Perhaps she got this through heretical means as well?”
A few of the priests appeared to agree, not Tirell though. He kept his face steady and looking at Marcus for any sign that he knew more than he was leading on.
“My King.” the Golden Roar representatives smiled even more wildly. “I ask that you let our order investigate these matters ourselves. We will find the answers, and bring this heretics head to your feet.”
That was quick. I think I know how they really get their wealth. They're the dogs of the Church. That doesn't explain why the Black Riders are here though...
Marcus opened his mouth to speak as King Lambert turned towards them, but was interrupted by Castor.
“What?” Castor asked, for the first time he said something. “Duchess Belinda has only been accused of a crime and yet you're already clamouring for her death? If it is true that she conspired with heretical forces she should at least be able to explain her actions. You cannot just believe what you are told, especially when those people stand to gain an immense amount of wealth from their actions.”
Marcus was silent. He hadn't expected Castor to have a small outburst like that, something reflected on the man's quickly retreating form, but it had the desired effect on the King.
King Lambert nodded. “Duchess Belinda has been accused of dealing with potential heretics and nothing more. Accused, that is all.” He turned to the young man, still standing between himself and Marcus. “Send her a letter telling her to come to the capital with all speed to explain her actions regarding the defence of the Clansmen and Orc invasion.”
“Yes, my King.” the young man nodded and quickly left the throne room.
“You two will remain in the capital for the time being.” King Lambert continued. “Everything that you need will be provided for you. I'm sure that the Border Forts will be strong enough to hold without you present.”
Marcus nodded. “They will. Especially with all the expected gold going to the forts now.”
King Lambert nodded as he looked back at the note. “Yes...Eilis, his name was. Shame that he stole gold from me that was meant for the defence of the kingdom.” His mouth opened as he read the next line, where the city of Nonbu'rn, and its surrounds, had been given to Duchess Belinda to manage in his name. He hummed but said nothing of it.
“The wealth has been distributed amongst the people, who are recovering quite well.”
“The people...” Tirell mumbled under his breath. It seemed the Church didn't care too much for the common people. It was sad to say but the Duchess Belinda of old might have cared more than they do now.
“I'm sure that you don't want to have to listen to the other boring nonsense that we have to do deal with today.” King Lambert waved some Qaiviel guards forward. Marcus understood the implication of his words. They were done for the day. “These men will escort you to your lodgings. Everything should be taken care of. While we wait for Duchess Belinda to arrive I implore you to enjoy the city as best you can.”
'Because it may be your last time.' Either that or he's giving us an opportunity to run if we are guilty of conspiring with heretics. That's not something I'll do.
“Thank you, your Grace.” Marcus bowed, so too did Castor. As they left he caught the eyes of the Golden Roar representatives looking absolutely furious. It seemed that the rumours were true and they wouldn't loose any opportunity to enrich themselves. He caught the eye of the Black Rider, his body turning very cold. It was the lack of emotion in his eyes that made him feel cold. They were rumoured to be vicious compared to the Golden Roar's avarice and greed. The soulless look, that only reacted with combat and flowing blood, glanced towards him for a moment, a hint of a bubbling emotion behind them. What was going on behind those eyes?
Marcus peeled his eyes away and followed the guards out, thankful that he had survived this ordeal. His hands brushed up against the hidden blades. He wasn't about to let them go, not when he was stuck in a city where everyone had a motive to do them harm.