Grospan, appointed capital of Amrith buzzed in trepidation. Vish felt an uneasy excitement sweeping across the wide streets of the ancient settlement. The city was roaring in the very real sense of the word, leaving Vish worried of what may have caused the stir.
The carriage jolted through wet cobblestones in the chill of the morning fog. Vish thought she could hear the horses’ hooves clattering outside, but that was merely an illusion. The clamour of the city made it impossible to note such nuance. She gently pulled the curtains aside, taking a glance at the streets. Masses of people were fluctuating not only on the avenues but amidst the tall and slender dwellings, in the narrow pathways and crooked alleys. Sheets of paper were floating anywhere one looked, hovering aloft, carried by the breeze, or lying in muddles all over the street—Vish frowned as she caught glimpses of a portrait on them.
She pulled the curtains back and dropped her hands into her lap, worrying she would start biting her nails otherwise. She studied Lorne’s features on the seat opposite her. It seemed as if he was gazing through the curtains and out on the window, but his eyes were focusing somewhere beyond reach. An unmoving shadow of a glare prevailed over his face. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword, his fingers toying with the hilt absent-mindedly. Poor soul. Lorne had always hated violence and war and had not ever wielded a weapon outside the training grounds.
Yet this time he had not hesitated before buckling up his old family sword.
‘The citizens are making an unusual racket, don’t you think?’ Vish asked, trying to dissipate the uncomfortable silence weighing on them.
Lorne blinked but was not broken from his reverie. ‘It’s been a while since we last came to the city. It’s always been like this. Grospan is loud.’
‘It’s frustrating anyway.’
‘Everything is until we see that the children are safe and sound.’
That had Vish relapsed into anxiety. She did not reply, only clasped her hands, and peeked behind the curtains again.
It had been four days since that dreadful night when they found the … gift. Ten severed fingers in a box along with the dagger that once belonged to the Shadow Vish had hired for murdering Medhraine Brygard. The mere thought gave her shivers. It seemed all too unbelievable that she had the guts to attempt an assassination against her former best friend, the second daughter of Andoriel. Yet she vehemently insisted that the young woman had turned into … someone else, and the incident with the box did little to prove her wrong. She was convinced it had been Medh behind it.
They had set forth the same night, waking their houseguards and their coachman, Kelyn, a former city guard and a good friend to the family, now retired. They packed light and left for Grospan. They had been travelling for three days, spending one night at Ithlien, another at baron Grovha, a good friend of Lorne, and the last in the city of Elymon, about twenty miles away from Grospan.
Medh had left the Morbane estate the day the Seat took place, early in the afternoon, the same day all the guests left, the same day they found the box. It must have lain there for hours, maybe for the better part of the day. Cold crept up on Vish’s spine by that thought. She observed that Medh could not have travelled faster than they had. Consequently, she could not have been in the city for more than a day. Hardly enough for … whatever she had planned to do. So hoped Vish.
She felt the carriage beginning to clamber up the hill on which the Old Town of Grospan was built. That part of the capital, according to the native tribes of Amrith, was thousands of years old, established on top of a cliff by a civilisation long gone. In fact, it looked much like any other districts in the city, only most dwellings were entirely made of stone and had roofs resembling spires, as if all the buildings had been initially built as lookout towers or strongholds.
‘Have you given any thought to what we’ll do if—’
‘No,’ Vish cut in before she could hear the rest of what Lorne wanted to say.
‘Bryne could help.’
‘Bryne is blinded by her. I have no idea as to why or how. But yes, he could help. Especially by sending back that snake to where she belongs.’
‘We could explain it to him. We have evidence.’
They had brought the letter along, though they found taking hold of the severed body parts utterly morbid.
Vish shook her head. ‘We don’t, really.’
‘How so? You told me you were sure it was Medhraine.’
‘Bryne could see it differently.’ It was hard to explain the situation in its entirety. Lorne had not known about the Shadow and the dagger, and Vish did not intend to enlighten him on the matter.
‘We have the letter. It’s handwritten.’
‘We do, but Bryne has been absent for two weeks or so anyway.’
‘I’ll seek out a calligrapher regardless.’
‘Do as you see fit, love.’
‘I will,’ Lorne stiffened.
The carriage came to a halt. Vish drawn the curtains again, seeing they were standing at the gates of the castle. Red-green flags were dangling from the top of the thirty feet tall walls, with the royal emblems sewn on them—two crossed halberds embracing the crown. Yet, occasionally, a different flag appeared among the Amrithean ones. Black and yellow, the Khryssalans’ family crest adorned the long line of flags with their roaring bear in the middle.
Vish frowned. ‘What’s with the flags?’
‘Flags?’ Lorne lifted a brow.
‘Yes, the flags!’ Vish snapped, but regretted instantly, seeing the quick shadow flashing through her husband’s face. What’s going on with me? I had better find our children safe. This whole shit puts me on edge. ‘The Khryssalan flags are on display. Am I missing something?’
‘Perhaps Bryne has returned,’ Lorne shrugged.
‘Does that count as a ceremonial event?’
‘As of late? Pretty much.’
Noises of a heated argument reached Vish’s ear. She opened the door of the carriage and stepped outside. Kelyn, their coachman, was gabbling something from the box, widely sweeping up and down with his arms while the house guards sitting next to him were struggling to keep away from those careless waves. Vish approached and saw that the addressee of Kelyn’s storm of words was one of three royal guards standing by the gate—the gate, which was closed, as the wooden bars rested lowered to the ground.
‘Master Kelyn, I can only repeat what my orders are: out, anyone, in, no one.’
‘And I can only repeat that Lady Morbane sits on the Royal Council, and if anyone, she means an exception under your orders, Maigh.’
‘No one, Kelyn. I believe that doesn’t leave much to imagination.’
‘As opposed to what the Crownguard’s going to do with you when they find out you were dicking around with a royal member.’
‘Lady Morbane is not a Royal member,’ Maigh pointed out.
‘That’s not the point.’
‘It really is. You tried to convince me with that, you know.’
‘Member, associate, whatever!’
‘What’s this fuss about?’ demanded Vish, stepping closer.
‘Milady—’ the guard Maigh bowed his head, but Kelyn was faster.
‘Honourable Lady Morbane, I’m afraid this gentleman here has lost a silly bet and is hence now dared not to let the first nobleborn approaching the gates inside the castle. Why else could he risk his pretty head defying someone sitting on the Council?’
‘A bet?’ Vish blinked. Her coachman smiled apologetically.
‘It must have been quite the bet.’
‘I beg your forgiveness, Milady,’ the guard straightened. ‘Few know that master Kelyn had developed an ill habit of being unable to listen to coherent reasons and explanation for rules that are not to his liking. Long years of leaning on counters above mugs of finely brewed Dry Suns do this to men.’
‘I have no notion of what you’re stuttering, son, but if you live half my age, you’ll come to appreciate a decent drink.’
‘Stop it,’ Vish lifted her hands. ‘Do you know one another?’
Kelyn stroked his beard, mumbling, ‘That’s one way to put it,’ in the same moment when Maigh cleared his throat and said, ‘It’s a long story.’
I can’t deal with these idiots. I don’t even care anyway.
‘I see. May I ask whether my family can have permission to enter the castle?’
The guard turned serious and straightened his back even further.
‘I am terribly sorry Lady Morbane, but I got orders from above. I can let no one inside the gates.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘They did not tell me.’
‘Who are they?’
‘Captain Lashlor, m’Lady.’
Vish frowned. ‘Captain Lashlor? Where is Captain Reylynn? Last time I checked he was Captain of the Crownguard and the Palace.’
‘You are right, Lady Morbane. But Captain Reylynn has been missing … for a little more than two weeks. Aenys Lashlor got the title in his stead until further notice.’
‘Got the title? By whom? As far as I know, Lashlor is not even third in the line.’
Maigh blinked, looking slightly surprised. ‘By the Crownprince, m’Lady.’
Bethlorn has returned from the battles, then.
‘I see. Nevertheless, my dealings in the court are urgent, thus I cannot accept refusal as an answer.’
‘M’Lady—’
Vish snapped as thunder.
‘I am Vishala Morbane, head of my family, countess of the Western Highlands, and has been chief advisor to the person of the King for the last five years. You, my dear gentleman, simply won’t stand in my way.’
The guard swallowed and looked back to his cohorts behind him. Those stood motionless, averting their gaze with unlikely effort.
‘Ve-very well. Your carriage may pass. But please, do not mention my name to—’
‘You think too high of yourself, Maigh,’ Kelyn chuckled. ‘Your name won’t be remembered, let alone spoken.’
The guard remained silent, turned back, and went inside the post at the base of the gate. Soon, the bars began to hoist, accompanied by a thunderous roar. Kelyn leant towards Vish.
‘Academy, is it?’
‘Yes.’
The woman clambered back into the carriage, only to see Lorne clenching his right fist, his gaze flashing to her, guarded.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘We’re passing through. Little inconvenience. It’s settled. What’s in your fist?’
‘Nothing.’
‘If you want to lie, make sure at least you yourself believe it,’ Vish hissed, irritated. ‘What is it?’
‘Nothing of importance.’
‘Right! Don’t tell me, for all I care! It was a very simple question. Must be so confidential!’
‘Vish, stop it.’ Vish hated how calm Lorne’s voice sounded.
Her heart was pounding viciously in her chest, yet she felt numb in each of her limbs, in all her being, a stubborn cold, making her body feel like it was deadweight. She hated all of it. She hated arguing with Lorne, especially over trifling matters. Yet this glooming shadow of uncertainty which was growing with desperation in a similar volume with every yard covered towards the Academy, every little bump of the wheels on the cobblestones, clouded her mind more and more heavily.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
‘Never mind,’ she muttered, turning to the windows. Lorne sighed and lifted his arm.
‘I found it on the night the banquet took place. It was glistening in the undergrowth below the balconies, not too far from the eastern doors.’
He opened his fist, revealing a finely faceted onyx. Vish tried not to let anything be seen on her face.
‘It’s an onyx,’ Lorne murmured, ‘shaped into a flower. As far as I’m concerned, commonly used by the Order of the Black Lotus and their assassins. Shadows, if I’m not mistaken. Could it be that … someone wants to get rid of us?’
‘I … I have no idea.’
‘Was there anything weird on that Seat you held? Did anyone seem odd?’
‘No, I don’t think so. Everyone behaved as they always had.’
‘I’m positive I have no knowledge of anyone who may possess a gemstone. Not at our estate, at least. How’s it here?’
‘Remember that Sandro was also there. It could very well be that it was his.’
‘Hm. Didn’t know knightlords use gemstones.’
‘The ones who can, why not? It can mean all the difference between life and death should they be facing a foul beast.’
‘You’re right,’ Lorne sighed. ‘We should contact him, in any case.’
‘We will. But first, let us deal with this matter first.’
Her husband nodded, and Vish recoiled in horror by how easily the lies came.
Some said the Old Town of Grospan possessed remarkable magnificence, not because of how it looked, but because it bore memories of a different era, a different world. Vish had never really been an ardent student of history, and although she understood its importance, she was highly sceptical that any cornerstone, any structure she could see was part of a long-lost civilisation’s history, especially when renovations in the Old Town had been notoriously common. Still, folks used to think highly of this central part of the capital. She, though, could never have come to terms with the stern and rigid looks of the stonework however much the Council strived to adorn the place with flags, colourful walls, or even streetlamps scattered throughout the inner castle.
Being independent, according to legal documents at least, the Academy of Nature and Science was situated outside the walls of the inner castle, sitting at the very edge of the cliff. The short street leading there from the Old Town had a long line of recently planted small everbeech by both of its sides. The otherwise green field that stretched between the castle and the academy now lay brown, muddy, wet, and bleak.
Kelyn stopped the carriage after the horses passed through the wide-open wrought-iron gates. Vish sighed and quickly stepped out to observe the well-tended, vast gardens of the Academy. Some students, dressed in the deep green uniform of the institute, were sitting on benches by little ponds and willows, or were walking on the gravel paths wide enough for two carriages to pass beside one another.
‘What day is it today?’ asked Lorne, getting off the carriage.
‘It’s Meldag. Why?’
‘The guards did not even stop us, and the gates are open. Do the students get a free day? We may not have come to the right place.’
Vish looked back at the gates worriedly. ‘We have to ask around.’
‘Let’s leave the students alone. Someone official in the building must be able to help us find the kids.’
Kelyn got down from the box and stretched his back while the two house guards stepped behind Vish and Lorne, following them from a discrete distance.
The structure of the Academy itself was quite the view. The three-story building stretched far in a South-North direction, its ivory walls were full of adornments of reliefs and etchings. Its emblem hung over the main entrance, stylised letters of A and S, in a circle the outer line of which included all the flags of the Kingdoms of the Continent. Vish knew the initials stood for the „Allegiance of Scholars”, but never really understood the organisation’s nature aside from the one fact that they involved most learnt people from across the Kingdoms.
They were about to reach the wide marble stairs of the entrance and its ajar, two-winged massive oaken doors when Vish heard the simplest, most beloved syllable she could have ever dreamt of hearing:
‘Mom!’
She whirled about to see Fella approaching from one of the benches by a dreampine, with two other girls by her side. A sense of relief washed over her body so strongly even her knees trembled.
‘Dad! Why are you here?’
Though the words themselves could have been heard as scolding, Fella’s face lit up by the sight of her parents, and a wide smile appeared on her face. It was the first time Vish saw her daughter in the uniform of the Academy, and she had to admit, Fella wore it far better than any other students around.
‘Thank the Gods!’ she whispered. ‘We were—’
‘… around, and we thought we would come by, say hello.’ Lorne gently pulled Vish’s arms, before she could step towards the girl. She swallowed, forcing herself to breathe slowly. True enough, Fella turned seventeen two Moons ago, and teens that age did not quite cherish the idea of an encounter with their worrying parents, let alone in public.
Yet Fella’s smile did not smother. She turned to her friends. ‘I’ll be right back. If you excuse me,’ she turned back to her parents, and the two girls discretely backed up under the tree. Fella stepped forward and hugged both of her elders. ‘It’s so good to see you!’
‘We are really happy to see you, girl,’ Lorne smiled with forced joy. ‘Haven’t seen you since your birthday.’
‘Where’s your brother?’ Vish asked, obnoxiously trying not to sound too demanding.
‘Oh, Nael went to the city with his friends,’ Fella answered, the semblance of a frown appearing on her features. ‘He’s living quite a sociable life nowadays.’
‘He’s not alone, then. But was he all right when you last saw him? When did you last see him?’
‘This morning.’ Fella turned suspicious. ‘What is going on? Mom, you’re acting … weird. Has anything happened?’
‘You know how tiring these journeys are, Fel,’ Lorne laughed, and gently patted Vish’s shoulder. The woman let out a deep sigh.
‘Yeah, I’m sorry. I just missed you guys. You know what parents are like.’
‘If you say so,’ Fella shrugged, still suspicious.
‘So, everything’s fine? How are your studies?’
‘Oh yes. I’m struggling with the Arcane subjects. I’m afraid I have no talents for sorcery,’ she grinned at her father, then back at her mother. ‘Nor for history, sadly. But I’m quite good at the arts and alchemy. I’m not sure what to do when I finish next year.’
‘That’s a long time ahead. No need to worry just yet.’ Lorne lifted his hand and pointed at the necklace her daughter were wearing. ‘What’s this? Must be new. Don’t tell me it’s from a secret lover.’
‘Oh, this?’ Fella looked down at the necklace, a turquoise-coloured gem hanging on a silver chain. ‘I got it from Aunt Medh yesterday.’
Vish briefly exchanged glances with Lorne. Aunt Medh. She was never part of the family. Fella did not seem to bother.
‘She got by last night, but sadly couldn’t stay for much time. She was in a hurry.’
‘Did … your brother also get a gift?’
‘As far as I know, no, he was out of the Academy that day as well.’
‘He’s roaming a lot, isn’t he?’ murmured Lorne. Vish touched the gem again, inspecting it closely.
‘Beautiful. It was kind of her to give you this. Did she say what is it for?’
‘She told me it was a belated birthday present. And that if I see you, mom, I should tell you she would be grateful if you visited her in her chambers.’
Vish nodded slowly. ‘I should do so.’
Fella’s eyes wandered away and saw the two house guards a couple of yards behind. ‘So … are you here because of the coronation?’
‘Because of what?’
‘Coronation?’
Fella looked at them as if unable to decide whether they were serious or not.
‘Yeah, the coronation. Prince Bethlorn is back and is ready to take the throne. This is what folks have been talking about for the last two days. That’s why we don’t have lessons this week. The professors are not quite sure how they should react to all of this.’
Fella scrutinised the faces of her parents. Vish knew her confusion sat perfectly visible on her face. As she glanced at Lorne, she saw her feelings mirrored on his features.
‘Oh. Oh wait, you haven’t heard it?’
‘We haven’t heard much. Four days ago, everything was running relatively smooth. What’s this all about?’
Fella’s shoulders slumped, her joy dimmed.
‘King Bryne’s dead.’
----------------------------------------
‘This is outrageous!’
‘Outrageous is what you’re doing, Morbane.’ Bethlorn seemed bored as he sat on the gilded throne.
‘It’s Lady Morbane.’ Lorne’s voice almost a growl.
‘You may speak when I tell you so, Avellan.’
‘Where is the Council?’ asked Vish, almost screaming. ‘Where is Rovina? Where are the Twins? Khora? And what the Godsdamned Hells is she doing here with her lapdogs?!’
Medh stood by the throne in contemplating silence. Bethlorn started to rub his temples.
‘The Royal Envoy is here due to official business. As for her escorts,’ he nodded towards the two Andorieli knights standing behind Medh, ‘they are to protect her, as is the duty of all Roses. Since the Crownguard’s number has dwindled greatly since my departure, we ought to consider hiring some of the Roses into our ranks for the time being.’
‘You must be joking.’
‘I’m afraid I’m not.’
‘This cannot continue until we can provide sufficient evidence for the people that the King is indeed dead,’ spoke Inara, wringing her hands constantly. Vish had met her outside the palace, and the woman from Anlorn quickly informed her on current matters.
‘King Bryne left a little over two weeks ago and hasn’t been seen since. We must either assume that our king got bored of his obligations … which is, we may say, very likely, or that he got himself eaten by a pack of hungry bloodwolves. Either way, it is a shame, and some measures must be taken.’
‘He was … he is your father!’ Vish stepped closer to the throne.
‘Kinship has no role in this matter.’
‘Kinship is the reason you may sit in the throne you little—’
‘Choose your next words carefully, Avellan,’ said the Crownprince quietly, ‘for those might prove to be your last ones.’
The two house guards reached for their swords, and Captain Lashlor stepped down from the steps in front of the throne, hands on hilt. The knights from Andoriel watched the scene with practiced indifference.
‘Would you really spill blood in the throne room?’ Inara whispered.
‘If I must,’ came the stern response from the Crownprince.
‘This is treason,’ claimed Lorne, clenching his jaws. His hands trembled so he slipped his thumbs into his sword belt.
‘You are talking to your rightful ruler. The way you all are acting is treason.’
‘What about Queen Alysia? What about your mother?’ demanded Vish. That silenced everyone in the room.
She turned her head around. The throne room was well lit due to the slender but tall glass windows on the northern wall. The otherwise dark-green stones were adorned with the Khryssalan and the Amrithean flags, and some quite voluptuous paintings depicting the Landfall on Amrith, the city of Grospan, and the Eastern landscape around the Ghatra. The throne itself stood on a little podium at one end of the rectangular room, gilded, cushioned with crimson and black, and sitting on it was a particularly delusional young boy.
‘My mother has not returned from her journey to Temdath yet,’ said Bethlorn after long momens. He had straightened in his seat now, clearly feeling uncomfortable.
‘Is it not Queen Alysia Khryssalan who would be next in succession to the throne?’
The young prince narrowed his eyes.
‘She is.’
Moments of silence passed. Confusion ruled the features of everyone present. Inara was frowning, her hands finally resting by her sides, Bethlorn seemed annoyed but also worried, Aenys Lashlor, current captain of the Crownguard and the palace blinked hard, and Lorne smiled at his wife. Vish felt victorious for a second, before Medh casually spoke:
‘Amrith needs a regent until the Queen returns anyway.’
Bethlorn nodded in agreement, and a sigh escaped from Vish’s lips. She quickly spoke before anyone else could.
‘That also requires work. Documents to be signed, Seats to be held, and new staff to be appointed. I suggest we call the Council as soon as possible. The people are buzzing with reason, but we need someone who lets them know about the current affair until Queen Alysia returns or King Bryne shows up. You,’ she gazed into Bethlorn’s eyes hard, ‘won’t govern without at least three advisors from the Council. And you,’ she turned to Medh,’ have no business in Amrith’s politics anymore. I suggest you set sail and go back to Andoriel. The sooner the better.’
‘I don’t like your tone, Morbane,’ Bethlorn murmured, leaning forward. ‘But very well. We shall do as you advised. For now. There is much to be discussed.’
‘There is, indeed.’
Vish kept eye contact with Medh. The girl was sneering at her, she did not even try to conceal the hostility prevailing on her face.
Did she really try to single-handedly crown the next ruler of Amrith? And this spoilt brat has really forgotten that her own mother was already queen?
‘I’ll see to it that all members of the Council be notified that their presence at court is required urgently,’ Inara said. ‘As Countess Vishala pointed out, we need to have a Seat before we may hold a council with you present, Prince. We also must eliminate the gossips that King Bryne is dead and that a Coronation is to be held.’
‘I’ll leave these up to you.’ Bethlorn stood and slowly walked down the stairs of the podium. Lashlor positioned herself between him and the Morbane house guards, but they had already stepped back. ‘Call me if there’s something I need to know.’
‘I’m afraid there’s going to be much.’
Without further words, Bethlorn left the throne room, and Inara lingered only a moment longer before following him. Medhraine and her knights stood silently.
Vish felt her throat tightening, her stomach sinking.
‘It’s good to see you here, Vish. The two of you mustn’t have slept much if you could reach Grospan in less than four days.’
Medh turned to leave; her knights followed her one step behind. Vish did not understand a thing, and her frustration finally reached a point where she could half-heartedly scream after the Royal Envoy before she made it to the door:
‘What do you want? What the fuck do you want?!’
Medh stopped. She lifted her brows, then quiet as a whisper, she asked, ‘What do you want, Vish? If you’d like to speak, I’ll be in my chambers. If you don’t, well, I understand. Enjoy your stay in the castle. But be aware, you’ll never know what lurks in the shadows in these trying times.’
The Andorieli group left, and Vish stood there like a stump. Unless she was dealt with, Medh would mean a short passage to insanity.
‘What was that?’ Lorne asked anxiously. That was the final straw—tears welled from Vish’s eyes as she threw herself into the man’s arms, shaking her head. Their house guards were still around, discreetly averting their gazes.
No one uttered a word. Lorne wrapped his arms around Vish. She felt horrible. Weak. Drowning.
‘I’m so sorry …’
‘Hey …’ He tried to meet her gaze. ‘Can I help you with this?’
The genuine look gleaming in his eyes somewhat comforted Vish. She shook her head regardless. Lorne nodded and blew a kiss on her forehead.
‘Whatever it is, know that you don’t have to fight it alone, honey. Come. Let’s find our rooms and pack out.’
‘I … I want you to … do something for me, love,’ Vish snuffled.
‘Anything, darling.’
She blinked her tears away, and deeply looked into her husband’s eyes.
‘Find that calligrapher, please.’