Puffy clouds floated in the clear blue sky over the tired looking fields that bordered the city’s wall. John stared wistfully at the city’s gates which were finally being opened, permitting the long line of wagons and people to stream in under the careful eye of guards carrying long spears.

“If we’d just been able to lay low for a few more hours,” he sighed.

“Well, look at it this way, laddie,” came Grimald’s voice, “At least this way we’re getting an audience with the king. How many times have you been granted an audience with a king, eh laddie?”

“Yes, it will be quite the tale to share with Sarah when you meet up with her again,” Udoriol added.

John turned around to face the pair. They had been relieved of their weapons and brought to this small room high in the castle’s keep. Grimald was seated in a chair with his foot elevated, while Udoriol was wearing his hood as he stood close to the door. It had been made clear to them that they were not to leave the room until they were summoned.

“Where is the king, anyway?” John asked, not rising to the bait.

Grimald and Udoriol exchanged amused looks. “They said the king is resting after touring the city,” Udoriol reminded him.

“It feels like he returned to the castle ages ago,” John groused.

“Well, he has just been stabbed,” the dwarf pointed out.

John scowled. “Why did they separate us from the others, anyway?”

“It’s a basic interrogation technique,” Udoriol explained, “We should be glad that they haven’t locked us up in the dungeon.”

John’s scowl deepened. “Why the guards and why lock us at all up then?”

“We’re outsiders who’ve arrived soon after there was an attempt on the king’s life,” Udoriol explained patiently, “We’re being treated rather well, all things considered.”

“Nothing for us to do now but be patient, laddie,” Grimald pointed out.

There was a knock at the door, and John whirled around in time to see it swing open. A pair of stern faced guards were standing in the corridor.

“The king will see you now,” one of them said curtly, “Come with us.”

John had been uneasy with the manner King Frederick’s men had been treating them since they’d arrived, and his brain was screaming danger. However, he was unarmed and could see no avenue of escape.

“Come on, Grimald, up you go,” Udoriol groaned as he helped the dwarf to his feet. John saw a flash of impatience in the guard’s eyes as he watched them from the doorway and a bead of sweat rolled down his face. Why the impatience?

The guards’ irritation grew as the elf had to help Grimald down the keep’s narrow stairs. “You could lend a hand you know,” Udoriol panted.

“Oh no, I’m content to watch,” John said, hoping the joviality in his voice didn’t sound forced. He tapped his thigh three times with his finger, giving Udoriol the signal for danger as he stayed close to the guard bringing up the rear, making sure to stay close to his right side so that it would be difficult for him to draw his sword and strike him in a smooth motion. The elf met John’s eyes for a moment before he turned away.

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“You need to go on a diet, my dwarven friend,” he declared loudly.

Soon, they arrived in the great hall where Cardinal Darren and his entourage together with the two White Cloaks stood before the king, who was seated on a carved wooden throne on a raised platform. Prince Matthew was by his side, looking frightened as he tended to his father, who was still pale and looked to be using every bit of his strength to hold himself upright on his throne. Armed guards were stationed all around the hall, and John couldn’t help but notice none of the Cardinal’s men nor the White Cloaks were armed.

“Ah good, it appears that everyone is here,” Prince Matthew began nervously.

John’s back grew wet with sweat, and he fervently hoped no one else noticed as he inched as close as he dared to one of the guards. He hoped Udoriol and Grimald were taking his warning seriously and that one of them had a plan.

The prince blinked and turned to the cardinal. “Is everyone here, cardinal? My father is very concerned that some of your men might still be on the streets… It’s not safe out there after what happened.”

The cardinal looked around warily and nodded. “As far as I can tell… The others were rounded up by the angry mob at the church after… it happened.”

The cardinal paused and rubbed his sweaty palms on his trousers. He and the others were still clad in peasant clothes. The guards were trying to herd John and his party over to them, but for now, he had been able to resist their gentle prods by pretending to be focused on their conversation.

The prince pushed his shoulder length dark hair out of his eyes and gave his father a nervous look before turning back to the cardinal. “I understand that there were some… injuries in the scuffle that broke out. Those who survived are convalescing in the barracks.”

“Might I be allowed to see them?” the cardinal ventured.

“Yes, but I must ask, are there any of your men that are in hiding?” the prince pressed.

John’s heart thumped in his chest, and it appeared that Simon had figured out something was amiss. “What makes you so concerned that there are?” he asked carefully.

The prince set his dark eyes on the White Cloak and suddenly, he wasn’t a scared little boy anymore. There was an air of confidence about him and a hint of cruelty. “As I said earlier, my father is concerned for their safety.”

“And what if I told you that a thousand White Cloaks are marching towards the Darnosian border as we speak?” Simon offered.

A cool smile twisted Matthew’s lips, sending a chill down John’s spine. “I think we both know that’s not true, Brother Simon.”

“What are your intentions?” Simon demanded as the cardinal stared at the prince, agape at his sudden change in demeanour.

“I think this silly little pantomime has gone on for long enough,” Matthew observed. Before anyone in the room could react, he drew his sword and plunged it into the king’s chest.

“Servants of Treto, defend yourselves!” Udoriol roared as pandemonium broke out in the hall.

In the corner of his eye, John saw guards draw their weapons and plunge them into their fellow guards standing next to them. The guard next to him attempted to draw his weapon, but John was able to catch him off guard, catching his arm in an elbow lock. John applied pressure to the joint and the guard screamed as his elbow cracked sickeningly. His sword clattered to the ground and John was quick to scoop it up.

“Get over here!” John heard Grimald scream.

Instead of finishing the guard off as he’d intended, John leapt to where Udoriol and Grimald were standing just as a barrier shimmered into existence around them. Grimald picked John up as crossbow bolts clattered off the barrier and the young man assessed the situation in the hall. A small knot of guards was fighting off their former allies in a corner and looked like they would soon be overwhelmed.

Meanwhile, across the hall, Simon too had managed to create a barrier in time, however, they were armed only with their fists. Up on the raised platform, the prince had pulled his sword out of his father’s chest and began chanting a foul sounding incantation that raised the hairs on the back of John’s neck. Moments later, a black bolt shot out of his hand, shattering Simon’s barrier, and reducing everyone within to withered husks.

The prince’s eyes settled on Udoriol and his smile broadened. “Ah, Udoriol the Excommunicated, you’re here. Excellent, then this whole charade has paid off handsomely.”