Night has fallen outside the window. Baron Kellis was penning the last paragraph of his letter to Lady Jaise when knocks sounded from the door. He voiced his consent, and his elder son entered.
Kellis looked up as the lad approached his desk. Coris's complexion was ashen. Judging from his dazed, distant eyes, his mind hasn't followed him from the prison cell. He must have felt the heat of Kellis's questioning stare and his raised eyebrows, however. He gathered himself and met Kellis's gaze.
"Meya's pregnant." Coris breathed, his voice hoarse. Kellis blinked. He couldn't resist a savage smirk at the corner of his lips.
"Not exactly barren, are we?" Coris colored at the none-too-subtle jab. Noticing the wrinkle of worry on his son's eyebrows, Kellis sighed then gestured towards the chair before his desk, continuing tenderly,
"What troubles you, son?"
Coris drew back the chair then slumped heavily onto it.
"I've always wanted children, but perhaps this isn't the best of times." He confessed then heaved a long sigh, lamenting, "My fault entirely."
"And what do you plan to do?" asked Kellis. Coris stiffened, as if surprised by the freedom his father was allowing him, then nodded slowly.
"I'm willing to raise the child, but I feel the verdict should lie with the mother. Meya is seventeen. Far older women have died giving birth." His voice quivered at the chilling notion, then he raised his eyes and faced Kellis's serene scrutiny,
"Father, when the time is right, Hadrian will have an heir. I give my word. Please. Do let her end it if she so desires."
Kellis gazed into his son's beseeching eyes, and was surprised to see he truly believed in his words, the existence of his future, when days earlier the boy was still as convinced of his premature death as he always had been.
He glanced at the door to the adjoining room. Sylvia had been preparing to tuck in but decided she'd have another look on the Greeneyes and Lady Agnes. Finally, he nodded,
"You're young, son. And you've known the girl for barely a month. Your heart may change." Coris's eyes hardened. For a second, he looked as though he would argue, then realized he couldn't deny the truth in his father's words, "I'd hate for you to feel imprisoned by your choice for the rest of your days. The child has not a soul yet. You do have time. Choose wisely."
"Thank you, Father." Coris deflated with a thankful smile which Kellis reciprocated. His gaze wandered as his thoughts strayed to the dragon girl, alone in her prison cell.
"I should return to her side. Perhaps some gold would persuade the warden." He muttered, frowning. His mind made, he straightened in his chair, "Shall we discuss Amplevale, then, Father?"
Prepared, Kellis handed his son an opened letter,
"Kyrel's letter to Simon. You haven't the chance to read it, have you?"
Coris took it with a quizzical knot on his eyebrows, which soon tightened into one of displeasure. He resurfaced, gray eyes blazing silver.
"Aunt Kyrel specifically requested my counsel! Why hadn't Simon mentioned this?" He exploded.
"Would you return if he had?" Kellis raised an eyebrow. The subtle coolness laced in his airy voice had Coris biting back his temper. He shook his head, panting.
"She must understand I can't abandon my work here, but—" His darting eyes snapped back to Kellis, cold with fury. He seethed, "Still, I would've known how serious this is. I need every last scrap of intelligence if I were to lead effectively. He had no right to deny me that out of some childish rivalry!"
"Do you actually think that, Coris? That Kyrel requested you because the threat is serious? That Simon is jealous of you?" Kellis challenged, his voice rising.
"If it weren't serious, Simon would've been adequate." Coris retorted flatly. Kellis was reduced to massaging his forehead.
"Serious or not, she shouldn't have favored you over her own son, Coris! And using him as the messenger, no less!" He snapped. Coris jolted. "Simon didn't mention it because he doesn't want you to have to choose. And he opted out of going because he's heartbroken. Now that you know, you should have the sense to tell Kyrel off and urge him to return!"
"But have you seen Simon in action, Father? I can hardly blame Aunt Kyrel for choosing what is best for Amplevale." Coris remained stubbornly pragmatic, "At any rate, we've already sent a most befitting replacement. Simon would only slow the dragons down. He shouldn't—"
"Coris!"
Kellis rapped his fist on the desk in frustration. Coris fell silent, seemingly miffed and confused. Kellis shook his head, sighing,
"Son, the kindest solution may not be the wisest, but the wisest solution may not always be the best. Your test as leader is to decide which a certain time calls for." He imparted his wisdom, then commanded fiercely, "Think. If it were Hadrian suffering the drought. And your mother asked Simon, the heir of Amplevale, to help her. How would you feel?"
Coris pursed his lips and avoided his father's narrowed eyes. Kellis fell back against his chair.
"You can't possibly be this dense." He observed, shrewd as ever, and Coris tensed, "Be honest, son. Who is the jealous one? Simon? or you?"
Coris met his father's gaze briefly, then closed his eyes in surrender. Of course, he'd long nursed a secret envy towards Simon. With his skill in combat and flawless physique. As he fought Fyr tooth and nail for every day of his life, how could he not resent how Simon's unblighted health was wasted on his lesser intellect and flippant attitude towards ruling? And how could he not scheme to keep Aunt Kyrel's affection for himself, when he was starved of motherly love?
Still, all this was no fault of Simon's. And perhaps his cousin had suffered just as much, if not more, for Coris's jealousy, just as Zier had.
Faced with such decision, a logical leader would venture on, leaving his struggling subordinate behind to fend for himself, sacrificing him to preserve the odds of success. A good leader, however, would likely pause to lend him a hand and walk alongside him. Just as a good father would not abandon his child.
----------------------------------------
Lady Hyacinth's verdict was as predictable as the morning that came. She revealed she had rejected Baron Hadrian's offer and sent a letter to Lord Crosset in Jaise, informing him of the successful capture of Meya Hild. She expected the arresting party to arrive in three days, along with the first batch of five prisoners headed for the brothels.
Stolen story; please report.
The Hadrians were a half-step ahead of her, however. Baron Kellis's letter to Winterwen had been signed and sealed since the night before, and by first light was sent off to Jaise with the first pigeon that cooed.
Coris remained in the prison cell to keep Meya's morale high. Dockar, Vitrius and Torbald continued hibernating, waiting for nightfall to set off. Baroness Sylvia, Gillian and Arinel were occupied with the Greeneyes' care. Sir Jerald helped Sir Jarl manage the human majority of the entourage as they took up various duties in the Hyacinth court. After a good night's rest, Simon and Christopher resumed scouring Hasif's lab for evidence. By late morning, the Baron called them in to report their progress.
"We're comparing entries in the ledger to the unused eyes on the shelves. We've found no discrepancies so far."
Christopher rested the donations ledger on the Baron's desk.
"I'm sure most of the cracked eyes in the bowl are from the brothel Greeneyes, disguised as donations from church members in the ledger, but we can't tell the difference nevertheless." Simon shook his head, eyebrows knotted in frustration. Kellis nodded with a heavy-hearted sigh,
"I've feared as much." He admitted, then straightened up with resolve, "We need witness accounts. We must persuade church members to come forth. Dizadh and Agnesia must give testament. Then, we use Jaise's boycott to force Amoriah to close that brothel."
The two squires sounded their heeding in unison. Kellis met their eager gazes in turn,
"I had Sylvia reserve an hour with Dizadh. He should be here soon. Once I'm done with him, we leave for the Church." The young men bowed at his command. Kellis turned to the Merilith heir, "In the meantime, see what you can do for Agnesia, Christopher. Simon, you remain."
Simon blinked. He shot a swift glance at Christopher, his mouth open halfway to object, but his best friend replied with a scolding look then swept away. Once the door had closed behind him, Simon heaved a sigh then turned wearily back to his Lord Uncle.
"This is about the drought, isn't it?"
"Are you sure you're not going back?" Kellis raised an eyebrow. Simon rolled his eyes.
"Uncle, please. Chris's been pestering me about this every chance he gets."
"As he should." Kellis shot back, his voice sharp, and Simon begrudgingly pursed his lips, "It's inconsiderate of Coris to not release you from your post, but you also haven't thought to ask him yourself. You're now armed with knowledge about dragons. Your place is by your father's side, among your people. Tackle the crisis as it unfolds, then send word to me and Coris. Why are you abandoning your duty?"
A spasm shot across Simon's already stricken face. He avoided Kellis's narrowed eyes, lips sealed tight. The Baron sighed.
"It's Kyrel, isn't it?" Simon tensed. The look in Kellis's sharp eyes softened. He shook his head in pity, "Your mother favored your cousin's advice over yours. Yet again. I dare not imagine how that must have felt."
Simon's lips twitched, bursting at the seams from emotions fighting to be released. Yet, silent he remained.
"Her heart has been made cold through disappointment, Simon. Long before you arrived. It is no fault of yours. She adores Coris for she sees in him the life she might've had, if she were born a man. If not for Karus."
Simon betrayed a faint, bitter smile. It was a tale told in hushed tones, in huddled circles behind heavy doors of every house in Hadrian. Before Kellis and Kyrel, the late Baron Hadrian had been blessed with another son and heir—Lord Karus. Karus was betrothed to Lady Sylvia of Noxx, Kellis to Lady Sorelyn of Amplevale, and Kyrel was a prodigious young beauty poised to serve in the King's court.
However, when the ailing Baron Hadrian prepared to pass on the secret of The Axel to Karus, Karus kidnapped Sorelyn and the pair eloped, never to be found again. The fallout resulted in Kellis taking the Hadrian seat and marrying Sylvia. Kyrel was hastily married to old Lord Sytus, Sorelyn's father, to keep Hadrian's interest in Amplevale from falling into other hands. Then, Simon was born.
Simon glanced to his left, the direction of the prison cells.
"Mother wishes for me to see that Coris comes to no harm. Carry out his bidding. Be vessel for his mind, for his body is dying." He explained softly, "I'm of more use to her here."
"But how would you rule Amplevale, if you do not return in her time of need?" Kellis argued. Simon forced his smile up a little further as he raised his eyes to face him.
"In all honesty, Lord Uncle, I don't see myself taking the Fortress after Father." He chuckled weakly, "My sister will marry a worthy knight. He will take the Amplevale name, and I relinquish it."
One of Simon's younger twin sisters, Serulda, though still small, had shown glimpses of the intellect and drive her mother and cousin possessed. Mother had finally found someone through whom she could channel her unspent potential, her reincarnation as she lived and breathed. This time, she would ensure nothing stood in her path. Especially the son and rightful heir.
Simon wasn't duly bothered, however. He was half Hadrian to begin with. And he'd spent a good part of his life here. He enjoyed his post in Hadrian, serving his kind Lord Uncle and the delightful Baroness Sylvia alongside his best friends. It was a pleasant, humble life, bought with constant peril as decoy for The Axel holder, and withstanding the ego of the most gargantuan donghead in the three lands. Moreover, it was what his mother desired. The one thing he could do for her. He was happy to oblige.
A series of knocks sounded from the door, breaking the stalemate between uncle and nephew. A servant announced the visitor was Dizadh the courtesan. Baron Kellis straightened up and bustled about rearranging the contents of his desk. Simon made to announce his leave, but the Baron beat him to the last word,
"Simon, you will go to Amplevale to investigate the drought. That will be all."
Simon stood frozen. As Simon's liege, Lord Uncle's command took precedence over Mother's. He couldn't disobey. The best he could do was beg.
"But, Uncle—"
"That will be all." Kellis repeated, his voice like a clap of thunder. Gritting his teeth, Simon dipped a bow and retreated, reeling at the daunting prospect. On average, it was unpleasant to return home. He couldn't imagine returning in Coris's place.
----------------------------------------
Dizadh entered the room with his usual grace, draped in all his earlier splendor. He appeared unfazed at the sight of Baron Hadrian waiting behind his study desk, fully-clothed and solemn, instead of the Baroness raring to be pleasured.
"I've assumed your lady hasn't summoned me for my services, my lord." He began quietly after a bow. Kellis unfurled a tight grin, satisfied with the man's sharpness.
"Lady Hadrian struck the hornet's nest. Best not arouse further suspicion." He clasped his hands together on the desk, then cut straight to the chase, "Amoriah refuses to investigate the brothel, so I've asked Lady Jaise to intervene. If she agrees, I'd like you to stand as witness and give your testimony before her and Amoriah."
Dizadh's black eyes widened, betraying fear for the first time.
"Her Grace?" He sputtered, "But, my lord—"
"Yes, I know." Kellis placated him, "The brothel will likely be shut down. You and all who serve it will lose your livelihood. You'll also face retaliation from Amoriah or Hasif's church."
Dizadh shook his head, a flash of defiance in his eyes. He opened his mouth, and Kellis hurriedly laid out his offers. Soothing. Reassuring,
"Those trafficked Greeneyes will require long term care. Come serve Hadrian. We'll protect and provide for you. After all, your time in the trade is nearing its end. Isn't this the perfect opportunity to escape?"
Dizadh shook his head again, slowly this time. A sardonic smile twisted his ever agreeable lips,
"My lord, you do not know." His eyes were like obsidian touched by light—hard, cold and blazing, "I do not fear for my lowly self. Lord Ahmundi and Lady Amara are my children. They'll lose their mother's favor if I move in the open. I will do what I can for those poor souls, but the Lady must never know."
Kellis was stumped. He had miscalculated. He must improvise for this unforeseen development. Still, it handed him a weapon he could wield. They may have led entirely different lives, he realized, but they do have a shared experience as fathers to sons.
"In that case, I'm afraid Ahmundi has lost her favor, Dizadh." He cocked his head, "If he had any to begin with. You do know that, don't you?"
Dizadh betrayed a flinch, then avoided Kellis's eyes.
"There may still be hope yet. He may someday wish to change. She may someday relent. I don't want to be the stone that snuffed out the last light." He whispered, shaking his head as if in plea. Kellis frowned, disapproving.
"Ahmundi was instrumental in exposing Hasif's crime. Amara has made fast friends with Greeneyes." He reminded him, eyes narrowed as he pored deep into those fearful eyes, "They truly are your children, Dizadh. Do you want them to abandon that part of themselves? Embrace Hasif's ways just as Amoriah does?"
Dizadh didn't reply, but his pause was one of contemplation, of hesitance. Encouraged, Kellis pressed on,
"You seek to protect Ahmundi from that path, but he's already chosen it for himself. I may not have been that present for my two sons, but if I've learned anything about them, it's that they're stubborn as mules. There's no stopping him, Dizadh, I'm afraid."
Dizadh sighed deeply, accepting defeat. Kellis doubled down,
"Do stand, Dizadh. If his mother has truly forsaken him, then he'll still have his father. At the very least, you'll have done your damnedest to make sure his efforts won't be in vain. You'll consider it, at least?"
Dizadh was still and silent for a moment, then at long last bowed,
"Yes, my lord."