The room fell into a harsh silence as Alistair concluded his petition. Chamberlain Iosaig and the courtiers, all of them shared the same ghastly look. Their eyes darted around as low murmurings made a resurgence, all talk now centered on this frightening news of a conspiracy against the duke. For some, it might have been the first they’d heard of the viscount’s assassination, and most especially the news of how close they’d all come to being a greatwyrm’s dinner failed to sit well.

Alistair pulled his hands behind his back as if to make himself look larger. In reality, he was trying his best to hide the nervous shakes wracking his body. He’d almost stumbled over himself a few times as he spoke in front of the small crowd. With so few friendly faces staring back at him, he’d felt very alone.

Ilvara had helped him with the physical evidence, but even then, she failed to speak up once. It was for the good of his argument, as she put it. If they found out she was a fae then his entire argument might be called into question. The people might have great affection for the Lady of the Lake, but the same couldn’t be said for her servants. And Ilvara wasn’t even in the same category as fae like Felnie or Sheyla, but rather their frigid cousins of the Winter court. The fewer people in the room who knew about her, the better.

He spied on his friend the Earl, Sir Manus Druim, making frenzied small talk with the duke’s marshal and a handful of other knights. Alistair could only hope that he was putting in a good word. Of all of the noble cliques present, these men were the ones to take the news in the most dignified manner. They were the ones that had experience fighting the undead, with some of them like Manus even being alive for the last border conflict over thirty years ago. If anyone would take him seriously, it would be them.

Next to Manus, the supplicant Brianca stood nearby, eager to be a part of the conversation. She divided her attention between the men and Alistair, her eyes drifting back and forth. Alistair knew nothing of what Shadow relics were used for, nor what kind of people were awarded such powers, but he felt small beneath the young woman’s gaze. Her icy blue eyes seemed to pierce him like daggers, and her face lacked any discerning emotion. He found it impossible to get a read on whether she believed his story or not.

“O-Order, order!” The chamberlain slapped the armrest of the throne in an attempt to gather attention back to him. He gave those around him harsh stares to get them to calm down. “The court has heard the words of the paladin-errant, Alistair of Wyrdwood! He has put forth a petition for aid in rooting out a supposed undead threat to the duke’s lands.” Calum paused for dramatic effect, gauging the room. “We must judge the validity of these claims, so that we may offer Duke Cormag our honest counsel on his return. Who here believe the words of our esteemed guest?”

The crowd’s eyes turned inward as they anxiously waited for someone to raise a hand. On the one hand, to ignore a paladin’s plea or worse, call them a liar, would be considered blasphemy—an affront to the Lady herself. But on the other hand, they would be openly admitting to the belief that the undead had fully returned and that a new war was upon them. This wasn’t something anyone would want to casually concede.

Earl Manus Druim stepped forward, his hand made into a fist over his beating heart. His gaze drifted from Alistair—who couldn’t help but grin—to Calum, the chamberlain. The room fell so silent one could have heard a pin drop.

“I believe our fair guest,” Manus said, his voice booming throughout the stone hall. He gestured to the anxious Alistair. “More than a month ago, I was present for this paladin’s oath of supplication to the Lady. Together, we fought in battle against the forces of Evil not once, but twice.” The Earl, a natural orator, faced the people as he spoke and allowed them to see the truth radiate from his innate confidence. “Alistair saved many lives, including my own. That’s right. If not for him, I wouldn’t be standing here, more likely than not.”

More whispers, more gossip spreading as the conversation shifted from one of suspicion to affirmation. Following the Earl, more knights joined him in the front to pledge their support. Alistair even recognized some familiar faces from their group. The knights he knew as Sir Tomas and Sir Remon were there, from Adelgard. More than that, another survivor of the battle with Kazumth stepped forward and offered his perspective on the events in Bredon that fateful day.

Alistair could feel the mood of the crowd shifting. He fought to keep his smile from growing wider as these people, these nobles, spoke so highly of him. Tears began to well in his eyes as he felt overwhelmingly humbled. Never once in his life had he ever imagined so many highborn would come to his defense.

To everyone’s surprise, another figure emerged from the crowd to reveal their support. Alistair immediately recognized him as the foreign man—the Etressi—from Bredon. Instead of leather armor, he wore more formal wrappings of similarly exotic design. Almost every part of his exposed skin had some kind of golden jewelry, signifying his importance.

“E-Envoy Tarkin,” stammered Calum. “How do you know—”

“I, too, was there the day the dragon struck,” said Tarkin, nodding to the knight that had just finished his story. “Not even my musket could scratch the beast’s scales. If not for this paladin and his associates, the town would have been destroyed. With my own eyes, I have witnessed his inner strength.”

The words of the foreign visitor seemed to stir something in those who gathered. More and more of the courtiers, even those unaffiliated with the mentioned events, began to raise their hands and show support. The chamberlain twisted in his seat, eyes wide with surprise at this turn of events.

Calum Iosaig cleared his throat. “The initial support for the paladin has been noted.” He sank into the duke’s throne, deep in thought. Then, he seemed to spring back to life with another declaration. “Are there any arguments to be made in dissent?” The chamberlain’s eyes searched the crowd.

There was a considerable pause as the question was absorbed by those gathered. For a fleeting moment, Alistair allowed himself to let loose the breath he’d been holding. Maybe he’d managed it, somehow.

“I’ll make an argument.”

From the crowd came a voice. A voice that made Alistair’s skin crawl. He recognized it almost immediately. This sudden opposition immediately got the crowd talking again.

Calum almost looked relieved as the protestor stepped forward and made themselves known to the crowd. “Ah, Sir Dogan Tolmach. With your recent arrival to our court, I had imagined you’d still be resting. What a welcome surprise!” The chamberlain encouraged those around him to smile and clap. “With Broderick of Isenfell away with important business, I’d feared we would lack another paladin’s opinion on the subject.” Behind him, Brianca Le Floch’s mood soured at the less-than-subtle snub. “What do you have to say?”

Dogan offered the chamberlain a well-rehearsed bow in return for the theatrics of his introduction. He looked no worse than the last time he and Alistair had been together just a week ago. The senior paladin offered a warm smile to the crowd and again, offered another curtsy directed at them. All in an effort to strengthen whatever he planned to say.

Alistair’s mood took a turn as his former battle partner so eagerly took the stand against him. His efforts to schmooze over the crowd seemed to be working. They seemed much more eager to hear from him, and the man hadn’t even started talking.

“First, I want to make it clear that I detest siding against a fellow paladin. That goes especially for any manner related to our most hated enemy, the dreaded Host of the Undead.” Dogan paced in front of the crowd, making small and deliberate gestures with his hands as he spoke with unshaken strength. “I do this because I care.” He paused for effect. “I care about the kingdom, I care about the people of Isen, and I care about my fellow chosen of the Lady.” The summoner shared a loaded glance with Alistair.

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“But,” he continued, any hint of remorse gone, “I feel it necessary to bring something to the court’s attention. Something that no one but those blessed with the Lady’s Sight could rightly know.”

This drama got the court fired up again as speculation set in. Most in these circles would have some idea of the existence of the Sight, though Alistair doubted many truly understood what the power was used for. Which unfortunately made it incredibly difficult to contain the curiosity building in the room. The chamberlain slapped at the hardwood again and the court’s marshal stomped his weighted boots on the stone floor to wrangle some sense of order.

Dogan through all of this was enjoying the spectacle. Alistair saw him barely hiding his grin as he watched the powder keg he’d lit slowly burn down its fuse. What did he hope to gain from this?

“Now, I could regale you all with seedy tales from the duchy of Alban. How I’ve personally been witness to young paladins, not so different from my friend Alistair here, embellishing a rumor or some minor quest they’d received from the ruling lord’s court.” Dogan turned to the audience, allowing his stony gaze to wash over them. “Why would honorable paladins do such a thing, you may ask? For added clout upon their successful return, of course. However…”

He held up a cautionary finger. “As I said, I could go into detail, but I will not. Because I do not believe Alistair, as inexperienced as he may be, would do such a thing as lie to this court. Remember the testimonies you’ve heard so far. Clearly, he’s a good man. I recently fought by his side, and I have to agree with much of what’s been said.”

Calum and a host of others seemed to be wrapped around the summoner’s finger. They hung off his every word. Each of them was waiting for the punchline, the big ‘But,’ where he would make his final point. And Dogan clearly enjoyed making them wait for it, as he spent his time subtly poking at Alistair’s supposed ‘ironclad’ reputation.

Dogan then turned back to Alistair, his mood darkening. “But,” he pressed, “as I said, there is something urgent I must reveal to the court. A key omission held back during this spirited presentation. A manipulation of those present, including perhaps Alistair himself, by someone in this very room.” Gasps erupted as the senior paladin made his way down the steps from the dais, joining Alistair at the bottom. His gaze started with the junior paladin and then slowly shifted to the hooded figure in the back. “You.” He pointed at Ilvara, who had managed to keep a low profile up until now. “Reveal yourself to the court, so that they may judge you accordingly.”

“How is that necessary?” asked Alistair, voice cracking as he did. “What does she have to do—”

“Come now, Alistair,” said Dogan, again trying to lecture him. “There are only three of us in this room that can see her for what she really is. It’s disingenuous to hide what lies beneath the hood. If anything, it only strengthens my belief that you’re being exploited.” The summoner glanced over his shoulder, in the direction of Brianca. “Care to weigh in, miss Shadow?”

Brianca stiffened as all eyes turned to her now. With some reluctance she edged her way to the front and stood, hands clasped in front of her. She cast her eyes over the two paladins and then to Ilvara before taking a deep breath.

“The paladin, Sir Tolmach, raises a valid point,” she said, speaking with a stiff and formal tone. One well adapted to courtly affairs. “The person accompanying Sir paladin Alistair of Wyrdwood is not a simple companion. She’s—”

“A fae,” interrupted Dogan, almost too eagerly. “An elf, to be specific.” He gestured to the still Ilvara. “Come on now, let’s see those knife ears.”

Those gathered entered a wild uproar upon hearing this. The mood turned against Alistair almost immediately. Prejudice, whether well earned by the elf or not, violently emerged from the humans gathered as a sort of mob mentality took hold. Calls for the guards grew louder and more urgent.

Alistair made to stand in front of his friend, but he felt a firm hand grasp him. Ilvara shook her head to signal there was no use in arguing. She’d known the whole time things would end up this way. If he’d listened to her outside, he might have spared them both this shame. Instead, he’d allowed his pride to get in the way again.

And now she would be made to pay the price.

Ilvara took a few steps in front of Alistair and gingerly grabbed the hem of her leather hood. In one swift motion, she revealed herself to those gathered. With her veil, the nobles could see only what was above her nose, but this was more than enough to confirm her alien features. The winter elf didn’t bow or break under their bigoted gazes and harsh words to her credit. She merely stood there with a powerful gaze of her own, sending the hostile energy she received right back at them.

Things devolved quickly at this point. More than one sword was unsheathed and the audience turned almost entirely hostile. The few allies Alistair had could do nothing to stop a group of guards and knights as they moved forward to join Dogan, all of them intent on removing the fae creature from their liege lord’s castle. Tolmach, hand gripped to his sword’s hilt, didn’t even bother to transform. So confident was he in the men at his back that the elf would be cowed. Ilvara took a measured step back, one hand stealthily reaching for something in her pack.

Then, the room was flooded for a moment in ethereal light.

“Enough!” A voice boomed out, made louder through magic means.

It was Alistair, now transformed into his Aegis body. He stood between his friend Ilvara and the gathered soldiers, arms out and unafraid. This slander had gone on long enough. It was time he took responsibility for what had happened. Alistair wouldn’t allow this witch hunt to go any further, not until they went through him.

Those gathered behind Dogan suddenly looked unnerved, too afraid to challenge a paladin directly. The summoner lacked such fear, and he seemed prepared to transform and escalate further.

“You will not lay a hand on her, not when it was I that asked her to join me today.” Alistair motioned to the elf behind him. “This woman is a winter elf, a Geevshey as they call themselves. Her name is Ilvara and she is my friend. She’s saved my life, more than once.”

“Be that as it may—” Calum tried to protest, but was interrupted..

Alistair continued. “—What color her skin is or what her ears look like has nothing to do with her character. If not for her, I never would have discovered these facts.” Alistair clenched his fists, righteous fury flowing through him. “And because of that, I will not allow any harm to befall her. May the Lady be my witness!”

A tense silence fell as the two sides found themselves at standstill. Not even Dogan wanted to follow after such a powerful statement. And yet still, with only a short glance at the audience still gathered, Alistair knew his efforts today had been in vain.

They hated him, if only by extension because of the thing he traveled with. Their distrust of fae had extended past superstition and into something much worse. All fueled by Dogan’s speech. An effort to snub Alistair for his attitude after Bredon, maybe.

So petty, Alistair thought of the man standing in front of him, we were so close!

Earl Manus hurried down the stairs. “If it will please the court,” he said as he made his way to Alistair’s side, “I will escort my friend and his companion out of the castle. To give both sides some time to cool down.”

Calum Iosaig struggled to swallow the lump in his throat—body tense. He could only nod in agreement to the Earl’s suggestion. The last thing he needed was a fight to occur under his watch while his liege lord was away.

Manus gave Dogan a harsh look before turning to Alistair. “Come on, lad. We won’t be getting anything done today. Not after this.” His demeanor seemed guarded, eyes twitching in Ilvara’s direction. Even with the man’s earlier support, Alistair doubted his full sincerity. Nonetheless, the earl was right.

The case Alistair had brought before the court had been dismissed, unfortunately with prejudice. They were forced to leave the hall empty handed with nothing but the skin on their backs.

A second failure, this one weighed just as heavily as the first.