"Accorded royal audience with the court, Lord Paul, of the Douglas Conglomerate, with his guest, Lord Ronandt of the ducal lineage of the house Aubrecht of the Duchy of Beaufort," announced the guard high and loudly to the room.
As we proceeded to the room, we were greeted by the sight of an audience worthy of a royal ceremony, not the royal court I was expecting.
The crowd was standing hemispherically, making me feel as though Lord Paul and I were walking across a corridor of murmurs and eyes. eyes, among which some were of the same shade as mine, Luke's, and the princess’s.
At the end of the room, the king sat atop his throne, his crown above his head, standing at the same podium as his ten Grandministers . But amidst all the men ahead, it wasn’t the king and his crown that caught the most of my attention, but rather the man standing at the king's right, like a crow to his witch’s shoulder.
We strided across the room, stopping just before the podium atop which the emperor's grand minister stood, until we received permission from the king to come closer. Then, as Lord Paul had done before me, I drew closer to the king and ceremoniously knelt to deposit a kiss on the king's golden ring, which was adorned with an emerald-cut intense red sapphire, before withdrawing to the spot where we had previously stood.
Looking to my right, I saw a distant group of red-eyed nobles, whom I assumed were the kingdom's princes and princesses, as well as the princess, who stood beside four tall men and a tiara-wearing group of very young girls and women, and also among whom I recognized the person—the person who had been used as bait by the church and the aristocracy to respectively lure Schlain and then the Archbishop Durant Sullivah out.
"I would like to forward my thanks to the crown and your grace for permitting this audience. It is with great honor that I, Paul Douglas, stand before you today, your grace."
The King, Charle Altair, nodded, his red and old eyes set on me, as were those of the man standing beside the king.
"It is an honor and a delight for me, Ronandt, to be invited to this court and to stand before this crown, your grace," I said briefly, not so much from the bottom of my heart.
"Your feelings have been heard. But why is it that you, as grateful as you are, do not carry your family name beside the crown?"
The one to speak in reply to my words was not the king himself, but rather his red-eyed and red-haired half-brother, standing at his side.
Years ago, in the last twenty years that concluded the reign of the previous Altairian king, the latter and his wife found themselves, despite their already advanced age, yet unblessed with the birth of an heir. Having come to terms with what seemed not to be happening, the king decided, in a desperate attempt to grant the throne an heir, to take a second wife, a Caelus girl from one of the seven great noble families, despite his queen still being well alive.
A twisted and ironic turn of fate had it that not so long after the king’s second wedding, the first queen was finally, despite her unlikely years, expecting a child.
The news was considered a blessing, but it was soon topped by yet another announcement—one about the newlywed queen expecting a second royal child.
Months passed, and soon, in merely a few hours in between, the king was blessed with two sons.
The golden-haired and red-eyed Charles, born of the first queen, would become the next king, while his ash-blond-haired half-brother, born of the second queen, took a different path that would lead him to acquire a seat among the seven holy Paladins of the church.
"It is also a pleasure for me to meet, or more precisely, to meet again, Holy Paladin Ymir Altair," I replied, striking a pose, disregarding his question along the way.
That night, I remember the man’s red eyes, just like the other fourteen, looking at me with animosity and dread. But today, while he looked at me with those same crimson eyes, there was no longer any of that animosity, but still, from the wariness in his eyes, I could tell that this man was expecting me, like an animal, to jump at his throat.
And I had to admit that, as of now, the prospect of knocking that arrogant air off his face for old time's sake felt like a very satisfying one. But still, to not squander Lord Paul’s effort and preparation, I mustered out my warmest smile, thinking of the day I would no longer have to put up this royal masquerade.
"That being said, I am overjoyed to find the Holy Paladin in such good health. For years, I had prayed to the seven to find the Holy Paladin in good health on my return to the continent. And, from what I can tell, they all seemed to have heard my prayers."
"I am thankful for your concerns regarding my health and your briefs, but my question remai-"
"Enough."
The voice was weak, yet with a simple word, it cut off the Holy Paladin mid-sentence.
"It is his first time standing among his peers, despite his monarch's blood flowing within his veins. It is fine if he does feel better off with his given name alone; let us put the past aside. This first meeting between us should be welcomed with celebrations, not discords."
In response to the king's words, the Holy Paladin nodded, agreeing without complaint. Only then did the king’s attention go back to me.
"I have heard plenty from you, Ronandt. I understand the dire situation you are now in. Your family and the royal family, along with all the ducal ones, share long-past intertwining roots that can be traced back to the very apostles. I was the one who made your father and grandfather Dukes. As such, as long as you carry the blue royal blood, this court, this city, and this kingdom gladly welcome your presence. "
"This humble one is very grateful for your highness's understanding and hospitality."
Holding his hand out, he proposed, "Then would you consider becoming our royal castle guest like someone of your standing is properly meant to be."
"Though it hurts my heart to forward this answer, I'm afraid I cannot answer your highness’s proposal positively. I hope your grace won’t take my answer, as ungrateful as it is, too negatively."
"May I ask why?"
I didn't even need to respond to that question as both of our gazes shifted to Lord Paul, who stood beside me.
"Humble may I be, as Lord Ronandt’s host, I can guarantee him the most royal-like treatment fitting of a noble of his standing under our Douglas family's, your Grace."
At Lord’s Paul's comment, the Holy Paladin was ready to once again bark, but a motion of the king’s hand stopped him before he even started.
"He will be in your care then, Lord Douglas."
"You may rest assured, your grace."
The king nodded.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
It was then, receiving a glance from the king, that one of the Grandministers spoke to Lord Paul's attention, "Now, Lord Douglas, you have sought an audience with the crown. Your query for an audience has been granted."
It was only then, as the man was in the middle of his ramblings, that I recognized a familiar face among the Grandministers.
"Now, voice to the court the object of your audience."
"Certainly, Grandminister Amberham. I have indeed sought an audience with the crown," Lord Paul said, casting a glance around the room, "but I was expecting that audience to be more private and less... public. The subject I wanted to discuss has some connotation that makes me wish to limit its knowledge to a reasonable few," he added.
"The crown has been generous enough to have granted you this audience for you to consider such luxuries,"
"That is understandable," Lord Paul simply answered.
"What is it that Lord Paul wants to discuss so privately? Could it be that the Douglas Conglomerate is preparing us for yet another surprise like the one your sister pulled out two years ago."
The man who delivered the speech was none other than the Grandminister, whose face I remembered seeing during Rebecca's birthday party.
"A surprise? No, of course not. At least not one of this magnitude, Grandminister Summerhall. You may rest assured." Gazing ahead, up to the king, Lord Paul explained, "What I sought this audience for is that I have a request to forward to the royal family."
"What is it?" the king asked.
"I believe it is without a doubt that your highness is well informed of the ties that bind my Douglas family to the recently-risen aristocracy. As such, the crown must also be aware of my efforts to break free of that tie, but the facts remain that I could not, for Mathilda, my sister, remain an active and high-ranking member of that organization."
"I have failed, your highness, from the moment my sister plotted with the aristocracy. And with it, I have allowed my family name to be dragged through the mud. I failed, but the good news is that I now have the opportunity to redeem my family name, hopefully in front of the crown and his highness, who had been so generous to us to even grant us, outcasts as we were made, an armistice."
"Oh, then, may we hear what it is?"
"In my many efforts to clear my family's name of this regrettable misunderstanding, I have come across an aristocratic ploy aimed at depriving the royal family of one of its most valuable relics: the remnant of the apostle Djeem, the accursed himself."
Lord Paul’s words provoked uproar, chatter, and whispers among the crowd and a frowning expression among the members of the royal family and the grandministries. On the king’s side, his expression seemed unchanged, as though he wasn’t surprised by Lord Paul's sudden announcement. The same thing could be said for the Holy Paladin Altair, but unlike the king, whose expression was unwavering, he bore an expression that was similar to that of a hound waiting to be unleashed.
"And may we know where you heard that from, Lord Douglas? Where does that intelligence come from?" A not-so-discreet glance thrown at me, one of the Grandministers inquired.
"It doesn't matter where it comes from. What matters is that this intelligence came to me from a reliable source, and it was made clear by it that a ploy was devised by the aristocracy to rob the crown of Djeem’s remnants, which I believe we are all aware are in the royal family's possession. "
Lord Paul's words sparked more gossip and chatter in the room, until the king himself intervened, asking, "And so, Lord Douglas? I believe you still have to say, don't you? You have yet to voice the request you earlier made mention of: "What are you expecting from us?""
"This humble one would not dare to expect, only hope. Hope that the Royal family can entrust the protection of Djeem the accursed to my Douglas family and my hounds."
"The gall!" one of the Grandministers exclaimed.
"Insolence!" voiced another.
Even more temperamental reactions were voiced from the crowds.
"You do understand the folly of your demand."
"There is no way that’s happening. Watch your words, traitorous dog."
"Lord Douglas, if I were in your shoes, I would carefully choose my next words. You may have the strength of an army to boast about, but by your words, you seem to imply that the apostle Djeem's remnant would be in a safer place in your hands than in the crown’s."
"I was implying nothing, dear grandministers. I was only speaking on the basis of what I knew. And I know that with the army at the disposition of the Douglas conglomerate and the consequential assets we possess, in spite of the ransacking our conglomerate suffered across the continent these past two years, we remain the best fitted, if we take into account our sheer numbers, to withstand such an attack from the aristocracy."
"It’s mostly that you want to hand it to them, isn’t it?" a voice behind us spoke.
"I want only one thing: peace. I desire no conflict. As of now, it is still time for my people, our people, to heal after the calamities of two years ago. There should be no room for conflict on the continent as of now, yet there is undeniably one being waged. As an Altairian civilian, noble-named, I believe it is my duty to, at least, avoid this kingdom being the theater of a senseless war."
Glancing at a particular grandminister, Lord Paul followed, "Unless my ears betray me, I have previously heard the words "traitorous dog" thrown around, indeed. That is a name that has been thrown at me and my family these past few years. Despite having been accorded immunity by the crown, this is what I am to most of these ladies and gentlemen in this room: a treacherous dog. But I know in my heart that your grace does not see me as such and understands my utmost devotion and loyalty to the kingdom, which brings me to you, your grace, with the following request: relinquish the protection of the apostle remnant to my Douglas conglomerate, and I give you my word, I will not fail to protect it."
***
Our audience with the court came to an end.
"Was it a failure?" I asked as Lord Paul strided toward the castle exit.
"If you were expecting the king to accept this ridiculous demand right away, then, yes, it was a failure."
"If I get it right, Uncle wasn’t expecting them to accept?"
"I never was—though maybe I did nourish, before accessing the throne room, a faint hope, but it was crushed the moment I saw the audience we had. That being said, based on how our audience with the crown was dismissed, this should permit us in the near future to be accorded a more restrained audience with the king, where it will be decided whether our endeavor ended up a failure or not."
"I see."
"All we have to do now is wait."
"Lord Ronandt, a moment please," a voice said as Lord Paul and I were about to walk past the castle door.
As I approached, I noticed a man I recognized standing in the row of grandministers.
"Yes?"
He seemed to intend to introduce me more formally at first, "Beaumont's GrandMinister, Lord Dantes of the Faucher Noblehouse," but halfway through, he decided to simply hold out his hand and say, "It's a pleasure to meet you in person, Prince Ronandt."
Hierarchically, in the Altaira kingdom, sitting atop his throne, is the king, under whom immediately come, at the head of their seven duchies, the seven dukes, under whom come, on the behest of their ducal lord, the ten grandministers, seven of whom were representing the seven duchies and three of whom were representing the Grandduchy of Bellevue. Under normal circumstances, the mantle of Grandminister is a rank that is to be passed onto the second male born of the ducal family, but in the absence of a second second male born, the title is to be passed onto a representative chosen by the Duke, like it has been for this man, Lord Dante of the Facher family.
"So is it mine, Lord Dante?"
He addressed a nod to Lord Paul, then proceeded to explain, "I have been tasked by the crown to deliver this invitation to a party held in three days," handing me an envelope signed with both the kingdom's and the Duchy of Beaufort's seals. As for its content, it was written in golden ink; the party was for the princess's fifteenth birthday.
One thing I noticed with that envelope was that it was addressed to me and me alone.
From a glance at Lord Paul, I received instruction.
"We are greatly anticipating Lord Ronandt’s presence. I hope you'll be able to attend that party."
Throughout the entire audience, I couldn't help but notice the man's complete silence.
It was clear from the way he handed me the invitation that he wished to immediately take his leave, that he didn’t want to be involved in all of this, and that he wanted to be done with all of this as fast as possible. So I granted him the sweet release the man seemed to be eager for.
"Thanks for the invitation. We may see each other again there during that party, Lord Dante."
"I cannot wait for it to be so, Lord Ronandt."
With these words, we dismissed each other and parted ways.
"It seems I wasn’t the only one making plans ahead. I hope you're ready to attend that royal party by yourself."
"Lord Paul wasn’t invited?"
"No, I haven’t. It seems this party is for blue-bloods alone, not high-ranking nobles of humble commoner origin like me, but that’s fine by me; I’m sure you'll be just fine without me."