Capital City of Gremelda
Six Weeks Earlier
It was easier for Henry to enter through Gremelda’s city gates than expected. He thought the memories of the time around his son’s death would come rushing back The fact they had not was both a blessing and a curse.
Still holding on to some of that guilt, he thought.
Henry made his way through the city. Choosing to stay in an inn he’d used before, booking a room for himself and his men. Alone in his room, he began to plan out his next steps. He wasn’t sure where to start with finding an etiquette teacher for Q, but he didn’t believe doing so would be too terribly difficult. A far harder task would be finding out what led to his son’s arrest, conviction, and murder. At least I knew where to start with that one . Henry dressed in dark clothing, adding a black cloak with a deep hood to complete his disguise. He ordered his guards to remain at the inn. He needed to do this part on his own.
Standing outside of the Office of Inquisition, Henry recalled all the injustices he’d heard of that could be traced back to the place. Striding forward with a shiver, he was forced to stop when the door opened and a man walked out. Henry scrutinized him closely, and was disappointed that the man did not match the description given to him by Ed and Nadine of the agent who’d conducted the investigation.
Of course, it’s not going to be that easy, you old fool. Thought Henry, berating himself.
Entering the building, he walked into a well lit room with seating in the main area and a man standing behind a tall counter. Henry lowered his hood and crossed the room, stopping before the receptionist.
The man finished scrawling on a piece of paper, and looked up with a smile. “How can I assist you, my Lord?”
Henry could admit to being thrown off balance. This was not what he’d envisioned based on the rumors he heard. “I would like to speak with the agent that conducted the investigation of treason against my son, Earl Julian Ashford.”
His question was met with silence while the receptionist’s face drained of blood.
“Is there a problem…?” Henry asked, his stomach tightening.
“I am sorry, my Lord. I cannot discuss that case with you.”
Lost for words only long enough for his anger to spike, Henry demanded, “What do you mean you cannot discuss the case with me? It’s the reason my son is dead!”
The receptionist took a step back, somehow managing to lose even more color from his face. “Mmm mmmy apologies, my L-lord. I misspoke. I did n-not just mean y-you, I cannot discuss that case with a-anyone.”
He stared at the man in confusion. “And why star-blasted, not?”
“I-it was royally sealed, my lord. On pain of death.”
Henry left the Office of Inquisition in a daze, not bothering to raise his hood. He walked a few feet down the street and sat, resting his head against the wall.
He could not think of a single reason the king would seal the records. Unless—Julian was unequivocally proven innocent, and the king did not want the fact he’d killed an innocent man to become known. The thought angered Henry. It was one thing to be innocent, and he’d never doubted that Julian was. But to have his son’s murder covered up to protect the king’s image… It was a disgrace and an insult to their line.
The anger clouding Henry’s focus nearly made him miss the man as he walked by and entered the Office of Inquisition. He’s about the right height… and his hair was the right length and shade.
With no other leads except to find the man in charge of the investigation, in the hope that he would speak with Henry, he had nothing but time to spare. So, he sat like a beggar with his hood up, watching the front door as people came and went. Several bells marking the passage of time rang out before the man reappeared. Finally able to see the man’s face from this angle, Henry’s fists clenched in anticipation upon confirming the presence of a rather memorable nose.
The man, who Henry now believed to be the agent he was looking for, turned in the opposite direction. Jumping to his feet, he followed after his target. They walked for some time before the man turned down a side street. Henry was unfamiliar with the area of town, and hastened his steps to not lose the man by accident. He turned the corner and collided with a body.
Arms wrapped around Henry, pinning his own to his sides. He lashed out with his forehead, catching his assailant in the nose, and freeing himself. Stepping back, Henry took a ready stance before he realized it was his target that had grabbed him.
Holding his nose, the man mumbled out, ”You just struck an agent of the King. I hope you meant to get yourself killed when you started following me.”
Henry raised an eyebrow. “No, I believe you attacked a Marquess in broad daylight. Most would think that you would be the one to die in that exchange.”
The agent wiped the blood from his upper lip, squinting at Henry’s face. Recognition dawned, and he tilted his head back with a groan. “I knew that I would be seeing you eventually, my Lord Ashford.”
Henry gripped the man by his shoulder, pushing him farther down the alley and away from the busy street. Giving the man a shove. Henry forced him against the wall and hissed. “Good, that will make this easier. Those were your words before my son was arrested and brought here to be murdered. Were they not?”
Setting his head back against the wall as he fought to stop the bleeding from his nose, the agent answered, “Yes, my lord, they were. I am truly sorry for what happened.”
He watched the man for a long moment. “You found him innocent.” It was not a question.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Nodding, the agent lowered his hand to look Henry in the eyes.
“Then why is he dead?” He demanded between gritted teeth.
The man licked his lips and closed his eyes. “I cannot say, my lord.”
His anger took over and robbed him of control. Henry grabbed the man by his shirt, pressing him against the wall. “I know about the royal seal. I don’t care and I will not disclose how I found this information. Now, tell me why my son was murdered!” He fought the urge to yell and risk drawing attention.
Meeting Henry’s gaze once more, the agent appeared to be searching for something. Whatever it was, he must have found it, because a moment later he began to confess.
“I believe that was an accident by the king. My investigation into the allegations against your son was not complete before the king held your son’s trial. I don’t know why he chose to do so, but when I brought up concerns, I was told to mind my place. After the trial, the Director of Inquisition visited me personally. Demanding all my work and anything related to the case be handed over directly to him.”
Henry watched the man for any sign of falsehood, but he could find none. “What started the investigation against Julian in the first place?”
Shaking his head, the agent admitted, “That, I do not know. To protect a reporters anonymity, the agent that takes a report is not the one that investigates. The only person that would know the full details of an investigation would be the Director. I managed to confirm that everything submitted came from a single source, and that it was the only information I could find that linked your son to the conspiracy.”
Letting out a breath, Henry rubbed the sides of his temple, feeling a headache coming on. He was not cut out for dealing with intrigue at this level.
“My lord.. there is one thing that may be of value.”
Henry lowered his hand, giving the agent his full attention.
“During my investigation, there was something that didn’t make sense, so it never made it into my report. The day before this case was assigned to me, I saw a man leaving the Director’s office. I had never seen him before, but that was not uncommon. Later, when I was following up on the associates allegedly hired by your son. There was a man who looked remarkably similar drinking with them like he did it regularly. Originally, I believed it was my imagination or the light playing a trick in the dark tavern. But—I saw that same man one last time immediately after your son’s trial.”
The intensity of Henry’s gaze caused the agent’s throat to turn dry. Forcing down a swallow, he continued in a rush. “My Lord, I remember the moment because it was not him that I noticed first. It was who he was standing beside as part of the man’s household.”
“Who, stars take you? Who was it!”
“I–it was Duke Alistair. He was standing next to Duke Alistair, the Minister of the Interior, my Lord.”
*****
The expected summons was there when Henry returned to the inn. His guard captain delivering it to his room after seeing him slip through the front door and make his way up the stairs.
The King had learned he was back in the city and demanded to see him the next morning. I wonder what you’ll have to say to me now, your Majesty.
The next day, Henry was led through the royal palace, down familiar hallways, and into the same council chambers he had worked side-by-side with the king for so many years. For once, he would not be kept waiting for the King, as he was already present, along with the Queen. Which was a surprise, she had rarely participated in Council matters.
She’s here to play peace maker, he thought. The realization kindling a small flame in his chest, a sense of satisfaction running through him. You need me.
Henry bowed to the King and Queen as his guide exited the room, the door closing with a solid thud. Righting himself, he chose to wait for them to speak first. It was petty, and against propriety if not etiquette, but it would set the tone he desired.
Stepping into her role as peacemaker flawlessly, the Queen broke the silence, “Henry, it has been too long. Thank you for joining us this morning.”
“Of course, your Majesty. One comes when ordered by one’s King.” His response was brief and to the point, giving her nothing to work with.
“What brought you back to the city?” She continued, pushing for more.
“I need to hire an etiquette teacher for my grandson, your Majesty.”
The King, seeing an opportunity to jump in to the conversation, took it, “And how is the boy? He must be what—13-14 summers by now?”
Henry stared at the man, picturing all of the ways he’d thought this meeting would go, and decided to forsake the stars. Going for the jugular, he said, “Nearly 15 summers, your Majesty , and he is doing as well as one could expect—for on orphan.”
The queen visibly winced, and the king’s face went red in embarrassment or anger. He could not tell, nor did he care. “Yes… that was terrible business. We were and still are, sickened by the whole situation. But—with a threat to the kingdom, we had to act quickly and ruthlessly. We are just devastated that it touched on your family.” The king declared, voice full of remorse.
Another stretch of silence passed as Henry looked at the king, disgusted beyond all measure, and feeling not an ounce of surprise at the king’s decision to lie. “You believe he was guilty of treason then, your majesty?”
“That was what the evidence indicated, and it was the ruling I gave that day,” admitted the king, starting to fidget under Henry’s unwavering stare.
Nodding, he looked over at the queen, where she leaned against the large wooden council table and asked, “And the report from the Office of Inquisition, your Majesty? Did it agree with the evidence that my son was guilty of treason?” Henry could see the tightening around her mouth and eyes, but all other reactions were controlled.
The king jerked, enough to be noticed, even with his eyes on the queen. Drawing Henry’s gaze back, the king answered, “Yes, that is exactly what it said.”
Henry closed his eyes and took a long breath to get his emotions back under control. When he felt able, he opened them once more. Looking back and forth between the King and Queen, his Liege and Lady in spirit no longer, he asked. “How is that possible if the investigation was still on-going the day my son and daughter-in-law were killed, your Majesty?”
*****
County Wycliffe
Present Day
“And what did the king have to say to that?” Demanded Ed from where he stood staring into the burning coals of the fireplace.
With a scoff, Henry growled, “Star-blasted nothing, is what he had to say. He just stared at my face like I hadn’t even asked him a question and walked out of the room.” Throwing back the rest of his goblet, he continued, “The queen tried to smooth it over, but what could the woman say? She gave me some empty platitudes and beat feet out of there pretty quickly. Left me standing in the empty Council chamber like a dullard.”
Henry eyed the half-full decanter of wine before shaking himself and deciding one was enough.
“So,” started Nadine, “What do we do now? Where does this leave us?”
Q looked from her, to grandfather, to grandfather, waiting for someone to speak. He had more questions than answers after Henry’s tale. By the stars, he even had a name. What he did not have, was a way to move forward. Nor did he have a plan to bring justice to those that had killed his parents.
“For now,” said Ed as he exchanged a drawn out glance with Henry. “We will focus on your training. It is more important than ever that you learn how to protect yourself, Q. Your grandfather and I will button up our holdings and work on putting some contingencies in place against the Duke. Unfortunately, it is no simple matter to compete against a man of his rank and power. As I said... for now, you just focus on your training. We can handle everything else.”
Henry placed a hand on Q’s shoulder before saying, “you can rest assured that we will do everything in our own considerable power to make that man—and any who aided him, pay.”