GALLAE

All eyes were on Gallae and she knew it.

As she was escorted down the sun-bleached marble halls of the Aevum Palace she shuddered to think this felt like home not a month ago. She had been foolish. Gallae chastised herself, for playing their games, for lying with the snakes. She had told herself when her husband had first accepted the role as Seeker that she would not become like them. But after living in the capital for over a decade, a decade of drinking their wine and listening to their chatter with little else to do she discovered the idle pleasure in their games.

Of course now with the whisperers of the realm turned against her she found no joy in it. The red cloaked knight’s who were sent to summon her, Sir Yorron and Sir Qwin of the Order of the Griffin, glared her down like a common thief. The handmaidens she once called her own had dispersed finding court in whatever ladies would take them. And her longtime friend, Princess Vichera, had not so much as come to speak with her. Although in earnest she could not fault her for that, for the Princess’ sake.

Gallae naturally did not believe the rumours she heard in hushed tones by judging eyes as she made her journey. Her husband was a good, honorable man, and a caring father. She knew herself fortunate to have wed a man who valued her counsel as much as her breast, not all are so blessed. He had not sought influence or higher station. It was her Grace the Queen that had called for him. He would have been happy in a small house in that barren waste of land he called home but instead he went to the capital because he believed in some odd notion of duty.

How well that had served him now, Gallae thought. The rumours cast Leondre as two men. A savage who had attacked the Prince in a fit of lunacy. Or as a teasonous leech seeking to conspire against the Crown Prince. Gallae rejected it all as nonsensical hearsay. And yet a part of her mind was mithered by her husband’s sudden disappearance. They say he headed south back home, but to leave her and the children behind? That Gallae could not so easily dismiss.

Whatever the case Gallae knew she had to put it all out of her mind. My focus must be on Antham and Vienn, Gallae reminded herself. Her children had been as sheltered as she could manage from all this. They still attended court and training during the day but she knew they knew something was wrong. The Thorn boys at practice have been hitting harder at Antham to the point where he returned home covered in bruises one morning. And the girls at court had been keeping their distance from Vienn between their snide comments.

They wouldn’t hurt the children but they aren’t safe here either. When things have settled I’ll bring them home. Back West. But in truth Gallae wasn’t sure when the opportunity would present itself. If it at all.

It was unlikely she was summoned by the royal council for good news, she knew that much. Gallae didn’t have many cards to be played, her fate would be the gods’ judgment.

They reached the base of the Pearl Resident’s Quarters, a grand building built to hold two hundred of the highest families living at court. For a time Gallae had lived with her husband in the Elect Tower where the rest of the advisors to the crown lived but had found their company draining and their seriousness an unsuitable place for children to grow up. “At least the Pearl had other children in it.” Leo had conceded when she raised the notion, although now more than ever Gallae regretted the distance it put between them. A fifteen minute walk to navigate the labyrinth of the Palace’s courtyards and walkways.

The Aevum Palace was as intimidating as it was opulent. The palace itself was as large as any city, not including the actual city of Briarhill that clung outside her walls. After a decade Gallae hadn’t learnt half of its buildings and corridors. The courtyard was cleared in preparation for future decoration coming for Queen Llyanna’s 70th labour day. Two servants argued with a third atop a wooden ladder about how to take down a steel crown fixture. His precarious balance would make Gallae nervous but he was too self-concerned.

Before recent events all the planning going into the cardinal event had been the most stressful part of her daily life. Advising her husband on who to sit next to who based on gossip he hadn’t the time to know or helping the Princess in her selection of foods and jesters; it all seemed so trivial now.

While Gallae certainly couldn’t draw a map of the palace, everyone knew of the legendary Crystallium Citadel, the largest structure in the Palace, a castle amongst castles. It was the city’s first building to be erected after the end of the One War with the designation of Briarhill as the realm’s capital. Throughout the realm bard’s sang of its glistening beauty as it shone with its crystalline ore, a rare but impractical metal that gave a glassy look to its stone. Its principal feature was the Spire that rose higher than other in the Palace, and which Gallae noticed was not their destination.

“Good sirs, where are we headed?”

“You have been summoned by the royal council.” Sir Yorron replied as blunt as ever.

“So I am aware.” Gallae pressed. “But the Queen’s council convenes in the Citadel.”

“It is not the Queen who calls you, my lady. But the Prince.” Sir Qwin said.

With that Gallae’s stomach dropped. If it is the Prince who is to determine her fate she had little hope. She followed in silence the rest of their way, her eyes sullen to the ground. Her thoughts raced faster than life itself. She hadn’t even noticed as they arrived at the Birthright Tower, the Crown Prince’s place of residence and naturally the tallest tower in the capital.

The dark steps wound up the tower in endless succession, light barely entering through the wall’s slits. When she had first walked these steps she found the brooding nature of the tower regal and powerful, now it was a sign of overwhelming odds. Yet Gallae knew she had no option but to persist. One step at a time.

Sir Yorron and Sir Qwin came to the top of the steps nodding to the armoured giant that awaited them. Sir Jeremih Black was everything one didn’t expect of a knight. Brutish and gruff to speak to, ill-tempered and uncourteous, and some say he never removes that helm of his for the face beneath is strikingly disfigured. Sir Black was known to be loyal only to the Prince; where the Prince was seen as his mother’s ugly shadow Sir Black was his.

Gallae joined the men at the top of the steps. “Is the Prince waiting?” Sir Qwin asked.

He half nodded. Sir Black looked past him straight at Gallae. “Has the wench no manners to address a knight?”

Gallae turned up her head and gave an instinctual half-curtsy.

Sir Black frowned. “I’ll take her from here.”

“We were ordered to see her to the Prince himself, Black.” Yorron said.

Sir Black turned to faced Sir Yorron. Yorron was tall by any standard but next to the monstrous figure of Sir Black he appeared mediocre. “I speak on the Prince’s behest.” Black spat. “So take your pretty red cloak and walk your pretty black boots and piss off.”

Sir Yorron was a patient man but he had little poise in the face of such insults from a pleb knight. Gallae had retreated back now in fear the two would come to blows but Sir Qwin had stepped in.

“Ignore his barbs. Our job is done.” Yorron thought better of his actions, relenting and turning away with Sir Qwin back down the steps.

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Sir Black took a moment to relish in his victory. Then he faced Gallae. “Follow.” He said moving down the hallway.

Gallae trailed behind him, his boots echoing through the dreary corridor. They walked quietly together. There were no signs of maidens or servants as Gallae was used to, she figured the entire floor had been emptied but for what she dread to ponder. Finally they arrived at a great red oak door Gallae knew to be the Prince’s roundtable room. She reached for the door and as she did Sir Black placed a vice-hold on her. Gallae feared to pull away should her arm be pulled from its socket.

“Be a proper little lady for the Prince, won’t you.” He said.

The squeeze around her arm tightened even more. “Good knight, you’re hurting me.”

“I am no good knight.” Sir Black replied.

Finally with a smile he realised her arm. Gallae hadn’t recovered from the fright when Sir Black knocked on the door.

“Come.” A voice responded. Sir Black opened the door and gestured Gallae inside.

Instantly Gallae’s worst nightmare’s were calmed by the presence of a busy room, although that simply made room for more. Sir Black shut the doors behind her. The Crown Prince Alden sat before her staring daggers. The entire room distorted to his presence.

While the tower was originally made from a modest disposition the Prince’s finer qualities now clung to the walls in intricate tapestries, gold finishings, untouched weapons forged from across the realm, and fierce perfumes that reeked throughout the room. Not to be outdone the Prince wore a gaudy garb topped by his intricate silver thornroot crown he was never seen without. A reminder of the real gold crown he would one day wear.

Gallae stood before the Prince and curtseyed. “Your Grace.” She dare not raise her gaze to high, ignoring the silhouettes that meekly surrounded him.

“Yes, yes.” The Prince dismissed her with little time for such courtesies. “You think I have time for the politeness of miscreants?”

Gallae did not dare raise her head. “Your Grace, I beg pardon for whatever misdeed my Lord husband may have sought to commit. My family prays to the gods for your health.”

“The gods do naught against a madman with a blade.” Prince Alden scoffed. “And as the wife to a madman I should consider you a conspirator.” Prince Alden was her elder, but his slobby posture, and petulant attitude made him seem much like her junior.

Only now did Gallae brave to look up. The Prince’s face was looking every day his forty-three years, his seething expression as awful as she expected. Over his shoulder stood Princess Vichera in a simple summer gown but as Gallae looked to her for support Vichera’s eyes fell to the floor. She would not find friends here.

“I plead for Your Grace’s most divine mercy.” Gallae said in desperation. “I have only known my husband to be a good man, a man loyal to the crown. Let him stand for these charges before Her Grace and the gods. I…” Gallae said. She knew her words could be used against her.

I can not call my husband guilty. Nor can I call the Prince a liar.

“Your Grace, if I may?” A frail voice asked, one of the four Gallae had not expected to be present, the members of the royal council. They were all Leondre’s colleagues, did they all now conspire against him?

The first to speak was Elder Dayne, royal elective to the faith, who stepped forward with a bow. A bookish man who Gallae had heard little of from her husband other than him being decent with parable quotes. “Your Grace, while Seeker Astarre’s past by no means erases this most wicked affair mayhaps it would prove prudent to hold him to the same judgment as any other.”

“What need does a Prince have for such an unnecessary procedure?” Prince Alden questioned. “Do you question my truth? I am the Crown Prince. What I say is the truth!”

Elder Dayne yielded backing away. Gallae’s one defender is gone already.

“Besides,” The Prince continued. “Would a guiltless man have fled?” Gallae had no answer for that. Nobody in the room did. “I ought to order every Crusader in Vanguard to bring me his head, as we would with any traitor. Along with the Astarres that harbour him.”

The Astarre’s found him?

“Let us not act in haste, your Grace.” Keeper of Banker, Lord Nettle Ling interjected as politely as possible. “There may yet be a peaceful, indeed tactful solution to all this.”

“You read the message from the Captain, did you not?” Prince Alden raged gesturing at a scroll on his desk. “The Astarres choose to return south back to their forsaken keep. They may not even ride north at all? Ignoring a royal summons is treachery. And treachery means war.”

“There’ll be no war.” A gentle voice echoed. The room turned as the doors were swung open. Standing in the doorway was Queen Lylanna Thorn surrounded in a herd of golden Crusaders almost giving the Queen a cloud of light.

Promptly the entire room dropped their knees without pause; all except the Prince who stood.

“I must say moving the royal council to the top of the tallest staircase in the palace is proving quite the encumbrance.” The Queen remarked entering the room.

“We haven’t moved the council, mother.” Prince Alden replied.

“No?” The Queen said. “But I see all my council members here. The Prince is present. You are discussing royal issues. And there’s talk of war.” The Queen stopped signaling the council to stand. Gallae stayed frozen on her knees. “Unless we are debating the realm’s future behind the Queen’s back?”

The Queen looked at her son who simply turned away knowing he had already lost. Then she turned to the Keeper of Peace, Lord Eugene Bogger, for an answer. “Never, your grace.”

“Good. Let’s remember to conduct our affairs in the royal council from now on, shall we?” The Queen said. “Now then, the matter at hand.”

Queen Lylanna stopped before Gallae. “Lady Astarre.” Gallae rose. The Queen looked upon her with a firm compassion. “These must be trying days for you, Lady Astarre. Know I hope for a quick resolution to this matter. For you and your children's sake.”

Gallae is taken aback but gathers herself just a fast. “You humble me, your Grace. I pray for a painless conclusion as well. You already have so much to concern yourself with. Excuse the nuisance, least of all.”

The Queen nods. “There is naught to excuse, my dear. The crown does and will always consider you and your family dearest of friends. Rest assured there will be no consequences for you, your children or the Astarres.”

“Mother!” The Prince squawks.

“For there has been no wrongdoing.” The Queen corrected her son sternly. “Lord Allard Astarre simply returned to the Vanguard to allow his men to rest and prepare. It is a long journey between us after all.”

Queen Llyanna took a hold of Gallae’s hands in hers. Her grip was tight yet innocent like her words. “Do write to your wed-brother, post-haste. Be sure to give him my best in his travels. And do assure him that he need not burden himself with urgency.” Gallae felt herself shake under the pressure. “Keeper Bogger will help you with the particulars, I’m sure the last thing you are concerned about is penmanship.” She turned to her Keeper of Peace. “Lord Astarre may postpone his voyage so that it corresponds with my commemorations in two months' time. That should prove ample time for any additional preparation.”

Gallae knew what the Queen was saying, as her grip on her hand reinforced, the whole room knew.

“Thank you, your Grace. You are too considerate.” Gallae said as warmly as she could muster. The Queen nodded but it was done.

“I have a realm to run, I cannot afford not to be.” The Queen smiled, letting go of her hands. “Now then, shall we conclude the rest of our council in the proper locale?” The Queen asked but it was no question. She turned to the Princess. “Vichera, would you be so kind as to see Lady Astarre back to her quarters? No doubt she’s earnt a retrieve.”

Princess Vichera moved away from her husband’s side and took Gallae’s arm gently in hers. Gallae was surprised at how relieved she was to have that support, and how drained she had become.

“Mother, they’re traitors. They’re a family of traitors.” The Prince yelled.

“Lady Astarre’s house is a great and noble one, as is her husband’s.” Queen Lylanna responded. “Not to mention he is still my Seeker.”

“But he attacked me!” A red face Prince pressed. “On the eve of my reign.”

The air drained from the room. The unspoken truth. Even in hushed tones, such thoughts were never to be spoken in the capital.

“You have made your accussation. But if the Seeker of Justice is not held to a proper court of law then what hope do the rest have? If the Crown is to mean anything by the time it reaches you, this is the way. If you weren’t so bloodheaded you’d see this is in your own best interest.” The Queen said. “It is done, Alden.” She stared down her son, just long enough for everyone to see. Then she turned away. The Crusader’s moved aside paving a path for the Queen to leave.

“No, we are not finished.” The Prince protested.

But the Queen did not turn back, disappearing in the crowd of Crusaders. Gallae followed the small steps of Vichera close behind them.

“I believe we are finished, your Grace.” mocked Chancellor Quinton smirked behind his thin lips before leaving with the rest of the council.

The members of the royal council filtered out and finally the Crusaders closed in behind them leaving the Prince alone in his tower.