Outside the palace there was great unrest. But the commotion didn’t reach Emile reading floor plans of the castle in one of its many archive rooms.

“Are you sure it’s down there?” Emile asked. “Because if it isn’t, then you’ve made me overturn the entire kingdom for no reason. And I don’t appreciate unnecessary chaos.”

On the opposite side of the table stood a man with brazen eyes, dressed in the same red uniform as Emile, but missing a few badges.

“Yes,” said Alastair Grave. “I’m certain, sir. During the time I spent with the Flame Tribe, I got word of a weapon of immense power being hidden under the palace. There’s a lot of underworld forces trying to acquire it. But if we get it first, we can prevent it from falling into their hands.”

Emile continued to scan the floor plans, looking for possible secret entrances or corridors that could lead to this weapon.

“You think he’ll show up?” Grave asked.

Emile smiled. “He will. He won’t risk losing what little family he has left.”

“Why do you need him anyway?”

“If I can’t find an entrance to where this weapon is hidden, I’ll have to raze the palace to the ground. And only an Affinity-bearer can accomplish such a feat without immediately collapsing from exhaustion. And I believe only Tristan has that kind of potential.”

“You think he’ll agree?”

“He has no choice. And since the public so easily believed that he killed the Monarchs, he won’t have their support either.”

“What about the girl?”

Emile looked up at Grave. “What girl?”

“The Princess,” Grave said. “Liara.”

“She’s far too young to rule, Grave, you worry too much. If I take over reign of the country, no-one is going to oppose it, since I am the most-qualified person for the position after the residing Monarchs.”

“And when she comes of age?” Grave asked.

“She’ll take the throne,” Emile replied as if it was obvious. “Under my control. She’ll be my little puppet. Seeing a royalblood on the throne will appease the public and I get to continue my own rule. It’s a win for everyone.”

“Except for her,” Grave added.

Frowning, Emile straightened. “Are you questioning my decisions, Grave?”

“No sir,” Grave replied. “Just curious.”

“I’d keep your curiosity reserved to yourself,” Emile warned. “Lest I find you standing in my way as well.”

Grave said nothing. And at that moment, the loudspeaker in the room fired to life. “Commander Emile. The boy is here.”

Emile smiled and rolled up the blueprint on the table. “Well now. It’s time for a show.”

***

The cobblestone path to the palace was straight and the pavements were lined by angry citizens, swearing, yelling, held back only by the Royal Guard that stood like a wall along the mass of protesters.

Tristan led the group that walked down the road. Behind him walked his mother and the rest of the Eausuterrain citizens. He watched the large golden gates swing open into the palace garden: a large flat space filled with hedges, greenery, fountains, gazebos and streams of water. Behind the garden, the many spires of the palace rose into the sky. The noonday sun erleuchtenating the whole city in burning light.

It was a spectacle to behold. But Tristan saw none of that. He only saw the red-robed man standing squarely in the middle of the garden, that same loathsome smirk slitting his face. The gates closed behind them and, far from the crowds, they stood metres apart.

“So, Tristan, we meet again,” Emile said. “You’ve grown.”

“What do you want from me, Emile?” Tristan said.

“Heh, such disrespect,” Emile scoffed. “You’re a Royal Guard now, boy. As such, I am now your superior. You can’t speak that way to me.”

“I’d rather smash your skull into the floor so I don’t have to speak to you at all.”

Emile laughed. “I see three months at Camp has made you think you’re invincible. I’ll humour you, then, for a while.” Emile gestured an arm towards the palace behind him. “I’ve been told that underneath this massive structure is a weapon of immense power. The kind no Encaster can stand against. The kind that can bring kingdoms to their knees. But unfortunately, a normal Encaster like me doesn’t have the power to access it.”

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“What do you mean by that?” Tristan said. As much as he wanted to throw himself at the man, he couldn’t risk what might happen to his townspeople if he did. He had to hear Emile’s terms.

“This weapon is hidden underneath the palace. Somewhere. But to knock an entire palace to the ground. A feat of that magnitude can only be achieved by someone who has a strong command of the world. Or, in other words—”

“Someone with the Affinity,” Tristan finished.

“Very good. You’re keeping up.”

“But wait,” Tristan said. “What do you mean ‘knock an entire palace to the ground’?”

“Well, it seems pretty obvious, doesn’t it?” Emile replied. “I need you to demolish this palace.”

“Demo—” Tristan began. “You’re crazy!”

“Regardless of what you think of me, I’m afraid you don’t have a choice here. Because if you choose not to do as I ask, then I will have to relieve you of the remaining townsfolk of Eausuterrain. And if you still choose to resist, well, it’s not like the public is going to accept you after you killed the King and Queen.”

“I didn’t kill them!” Tristan yelled.

“Ah but who will the people believe? Me, someone they’ve known for years? Someone who has serve the Monarchy faithfully? Or you, a nobody whose only title is that of the assassin who killed the Monarchs?”

Emile’s radio burst to life. “Sir, we can’t hold them back. The protesters are—”

The front gates burst open and the mass of citizens began marching into the garden. “Show me the boy!” one was screaming. “Throw him in prison!” another demanded. That Tristan was a child didn’t seem to matter to them.

“Within the next minute, your people will have to deal with that entire mob,” Emile sneered. “And only you alone can stop this from happening.”

Tristan looked up, beyond Emile, at the main wall that ringed the palace. And smiled.

The joy in Emile’s face dimmed a little. “What’s so funny?”

Tristan’s demeanour had suddenly shifted. “Well,” he said. “Let’s just say that the person who actually killed the king and queen is about to be exposed.”

The joy drained completely as Emile turned around to see what had caught Tristan’s eye. Off in the distance, on the main wall that ringed the palace, were two women. No, two girls. A taller one with brown hair dressed in the same green uniform as what Tristan wore now. And a shorter one with dark skin dressed in Royal attire.

On the wall, Aeon raised a microphone to her mouth. “Ahem! Attention all citizens of Aladeriv!” Across the capital, her voice boomed over the loudspeaker system, and across the kingdom, through every radio that was turned on, surrounded by listeners eager to hear updates on the situation at the capital.

Even in the garden, the approaching mob had slowed, and all heads turned towards the two girls on the parapet.

“You’ve been lied to! The Monarchs were NOT killed by the boy called Tristan. In fact, I happen to have with me a witness to the entire murdering! Ladies and gentlemen! Princess Liara, oldest daughter of King Treville and King Lucille!”

“The little shit,” Emile swore. “She couldn’t know.”

Aeon passed the mic over to the younger girl. Her shaky breathing carried through to the speakers. And for a moment, silence reigned, broken only by the sound of her breathing.

“It’s alright,” Aeon said, drawing the girl’s attention. “No-one will hurt you. Just say it.”

“What’s this delay all about?” Emile suddenly burst. “Somebody arrest them!”

“And why are you in such a panic?” Tristan challenged. “Surely if the culprit wasn’t me, then as the leader of the Inner Guard, you’d be the most curious to know who it actually was. Or were you deliberately lying to hide the actual killer?”

“Say it already!” someone yelled from the crowd and a roar of assent rose, urging Liara to speak.

“E—” Liara said. Her voice shook and Emile tensed. “Emile . . . killed my parents.” And with that, she dropped to her knees, grabbing her face, while Aeon took the mic once again.

“And there you have it!” Aeon declared. “It was a plot by the Inner Guard to usurp power from the throne!”

Emile suddenly burst into laughter. Tristan, however, knew the laugh was fake and he was only pretending to be amused, as he had heard Emile’s actual laughter of amusement before.

“The girl is obviously in grief over the loss of her parents,” Emile said. “Her memory of the event would be much clearer once she recovered from a little bit.”

“The wolf in the sheep skin claims he is part of the herd!” Aeon called to the crowd, as if she were the lead actor in a play. “But when the wolf kills the sheep, the bloodstains on his fake skin can’t be washed away! Behold!” She raised over her head a sheathed sword. “The murder weapon!” She drew the blade out. “The only sword in the armoury coated in blood.

The bloodstained blade glimmered red and silver under the sunlight, and a loud murmur passed through the crowd. Emile noticed the looks of shock that were being thrown in his direction, for the sword held up by Aeon had a striking feature.

The ornate carvings on the sheath were the same as the sheath that currently hung off of Emile’s belt. And across the capital, no other guard had a sheath of similar design.

“Admittedly, I had to break in to an office or two to get this. But this sheath’s design belongs to none other than Royal Guard Emile’s personal collection! Proving that, beyond the shadow of a doubt, it was not Tristan, but Emile who killed the King and Queen!”

“Liar!” someone from the crowd shouted at Emile.

“Traitor! Murderer!” more cries arose. And suddenly, the angry mob no longer saw the Eausuterrainians as the threat. In fact, the Eausuterranian group melted into the mob of protesters as they all approached Emile, who was starting to slowly back away.

“The jig is up, Emile,” Tristan said, raising his arms and adjusting his feet into a sighting stance. “You’re not taking over this kingdom. And I’m gonna kill you, here and now.”

For a moment, Emile looked defeated. But then he grinned again. “Heh,” he chuckled. “Well, it seems like I’ve lost this battle of wits. Who would’ve thought my quarry would be friends with a cat burglar?” Emile drew his own sword. “But it doesn’t matter. I wanted to peacefully take power. But your actions have forced me to do this the ugly way.”

Tristan’s stance loosened. “What?”

“Tristan of Eausuterrain,” Emile said, gripping his sword with both arms, “every drop of blood I spill in this garden, is on your hands.”