Kingdom of Rivenna

Army Camp South of the Northern Forests

“Lord Marshal! Lord Marshal!” The flap to his command tent burst open as a runner barreled in. He’s not in uniform… A message from the capital?

Waving the panting man forward from where he sat behind his field desk, the Marshal signaled for one of his aides to fetch a glass of water. Definitely not military, they’d know better. What’s the point of getting your message there faster if you can’t breathe when you get there?

The runner finally caught his breath and thanked the aide for the water, sipping to clear his dry throat. “I’m sorry, my lord, but you needed to hear this.”

“Orders from the king?” The Lord Marshal asked, a tension tightening his voice.

The man palled, even through the sweat and exertion.

“No, my lord. It’s your son, the Earl of Ashford. He has been arrested and charged with high treason against the crown—”

If there was more to the message, Henry Ashford did not hear it. Already running out of his tent, the field desk thrown aside, and its contents strewn across the dirt. The Lord Marshal bellowed, “GET ME MY HORSE, NOW!”

*****

Capital City of Gremelda

Countess Katherine Ashford gripped the windowsill of the carriage as it neared the palace. Two weeks had passed since her husband’s arrest, and today would be her first chance to see him. Her father had assured her that Julian was being kept in a noble cell at the royal palace, not abused like a commoner in the dungeon. But that did little to ease Kat’s mind.

Their marriage hadn’t been arranged out of love. As a powerful mage in her own right, she had a good chance of finding a gifted man to marry. Yet, she was unsatisfied with the quality of unwed male mages she’d met prior to marrying Julian. He claimed it was love at first sight, though Kat had her doubts. He initially came to her attention because of his noble rank as the son of a Marquess and being an Earl himself. It was his persistence and the level of effort he put into courting her that eventually won her over. Throughout their years together, his quiet strength, compassion, and willingness to seek her advice had transformed their political match into one of genuine affection. She would not lose him to these allegations.

Her father’s hand rested on her shoulder. “He is innocent. We can only trust that His Majesty will see the truth and dismiss the charges.”

Kat remained silent until a footman opened the door to their carriage, offering his hand to help her down. She and her father entered the main audience hall, where a crowd of nobles gathered already.

A steward stood near the door, flanked by two guardsmen. Her father led Kat toward him, introducing them both. The steward, clearly expecting their arrival, ushered them past the crowd.

They waited for what felt like hours for Kat, though it was likely only half an hour, before the doors at the rear of the throne room opened and a herald stepped out.

“All rise! Presenting His Royal Majesty, Frederick Kingston, King of Rivenna, Defender of the Realm, Protector of the People, and Sovereign of the Lands. Bow before your King!”

The room bowed, holding the gesture until the King entered and took his seat on the throne, “You may rise.”

Kat looked up at the man who held her husband’s life in his hands. Please do what is right, see that he is innocent, she thought, or I swear, he won’t be the only one to die this day.

The herald dropped his metal weighted staff onto the stone floor.

thud, thud, thud.

“We are present this day, by royal decree, to hear a matter of grave consequence before the Throne and the Peerage. Earl Julian Ashford, of the House Valtieri, stands accused of high treason against the Crown. Let all who are summoned attend and let justice render in the name of the King!”

The king raised his hand and called, “Bring out the accused.”

Kat’s breath caught in her throat as guards escorted Julian before the King’s throne. There were no visible bruises, but with his wrinkled clothes, unkempt hair, and unshaven face, he looked more like a commoner than an Earl. Which is likely on purpose, thought Kat.

Julian’s eyes darted around the room, careful not to linger too long anywhere but on the King. His gaze flickered over Kat, then quickly returned, emotions rushing through him—happiness at seeing her, mixed with fear and sadness for what lay ahead.

The king rose, peering down at Julian from his throne. “You stand accused of treason, Earl Ashford. What is your response?”

Julian met the king’s gaze, standing tall, “I am innocent, Your Majesty. I have never, nor would I ever, have any reason to conspire against you or any member of the Royal Family.” His voice echoed through the hall—rough, but resolute.

“Me or any member of my family? Interesting choice of words, given that plot we discovered was meant to kill exactly those people.” The king responded in a dry tone, “How would you know that unless you were involved?”

Taken aback, Julian glanced at his wife before refocusing on the king. “I did not know that, Your Majesty, it was just a turn of phrase.”

“A turn of phrase… a coincidence, we shall see. Now, let’s move on to some more substantive evidence.” Turning to a side door, the king called, “Bring in the witness.”

A man was dragged into the chamber, arms and legs shackled. His face was bruised, dried blood crusting around a likely broken nose. The guards forced him to his knees before the king. The foul odor wafting from him made Julian’s stomach churn as he stepped back.

The king’s share gaze flickered between the man and Julian, searching. After a moment, he asked, “Do you know this man?”

Julian took a closer look before backing away once more. “I am sorry, your Majesty. I do not recognize this man.”

“You have never met this man before?” The king pressed.

“No sire, I do not believe I have ever seen his face before.”

Turning his questions on the man, the king said, “If you answer my questions truthfully, your life will be spared. Now, do you know who this man is?”

The man peered at Julian through swollen eyes from where he sat, kneeling. “Yes, your Majesty. I know him.”

A murmur spread through the gathered crowd at his words.

“Who is this man and how do you know him?” Demanded the king.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

The man coughed, spitting a wad of bloody phlegm. Disgusted, the king waved a court healer forward. "Not fully—just enough that we won't have to witness that again." The healer approached and placed his hand on top of the man’s head. A soft golden glow emitted from his palm and the crowd could visible see some of the tension leaving the man’s body. Removing his hand, the healer bowed to the king, retreating without a word.

“Now, answer my question. What is this man’s name and how do you know him?”

“That is Earl Ashford and I know him because he hired me and my outfit to assassinate the Royal Family.”

The hall erupted in a roar, Julian’s outcry the loudest at the false accusation against him.

“SILENCE!” ordered the king, using his Gift to project his voice. It reverberated throughout the room like a thunderclap. Even Julian, angry as he was, capitulated, surprised by the volume.

Pointing at Julian, the king said, “You will have your time to speak. But now, it is time for us all to listen. I will have the next person who interrupts flogged and denied a healer. Do I make myself clear?”

Julian, Kat, and Edmund were forced to sit through a detailed explanation of the instructions given to the men on how to murder the royal family. The assassins planned to use the upcoming Name Day celebration for the youngest princess. They would sneak into the castle while everyone was in attendance. Once inside the royal wing of the palace, they would hide in each family members sleeping quarters, until sleep took them. Then they would strike.

With dawning horror, the nobles in attendance realized that there had, in fact, been a plot to murder their king and his family. If undiscovered, it could very well have succeeded.

Edmund put it together first. Whispering to himself, just loud enough Kat overheard, “Ancestors… he’s being framed. The real traitors realized their plans were discovered and they are using Julian as a sacrifice.” His words confirmed her own suspicions. Kat suspected this would not go their way, and it was the reason she left Quentin with her mother.

She placed a hand on her father’s forearm. "Father, I need you to make me a promise."

Edmund knew that tone of voice. It was the same one her mother used when she made a decision that he would disapprove of. It was rare to see, and all the more terrifying because of it. Observing his daughter, his stomach sank. “No, my dear, you cannot.”

A soft smile appeared as her lips twitched with intense emotions, “No, father, I must. I need you to leave this room and take care of our son. Promise me that you will look after him, or I can’t do what needs done.”

A tear rolled down his face, his chest constricting as he nodded. “I will take care of your boy. He will want for nothing.”

Her smile broke, tears beginning to fall down her cheek, “He will want of us, father. Tell him we love him, even in death. The only thing strong enough to keep us away.”

The two embraced, and Count Edmund turned away. Keeping the first part of his promise, vowing to himself that he would never fail in the second.

*****

Julian stared in disbelief at the kneeling disgrace beside him. I’m being framed. This man will implicate me, and they will have created evidence to prove it. His thoughts came fast and without comfort.

Julian looked through the crowd, back to where he’d seen Katherine. He found her, though Julian could see her father, Edmund, walking away.

Their eyes met and he could tell she already knew. She always was smarter than I. They shared a long look before Julian’s attention snapped back to the travesty performing in front of him.

The man, who claimed his name was Peter Draven, finished his tale. Practically frothing at the mouth, the king asked his next question, “A coup is never done by a single man alone. Who else was involved?”

Draven spewed forth a litany of names—some familiar to Julian, most not. Likely all innocent. I hope they receive better than this sham of a trial, Julian thought.

The questions dragged, interrupted briefly when evidence presented. A credit note, supposedly from Julian to a lender in a neighboring county, made out to Peter Draven for “services rendered”. An incriminating letter allegedly written by Julian to an accomplice, referencing the upcoming Name Day celebration and the ”bright future” they sought.

Julian stopped listening, his focus shifting to his wife’s face. In her eyes, he saw all the memories of happiness they’d shared; the joy created in their son. He would only have two regrets if sentenced to death. That he had not told his son he loved him one last time, and that the poor boy would likely be orphaned on the same day.

The trial dragged on for hours until the king finally declared he'd heard enough. He cleared the room of all but the accused, the guards, and the nobles. Descending a step from his throne, he brought himself closer to eye level with Julian.

With a sneer, the king asked, “The evidence has been seen, the witnesses heard. Is there anything you would like to say in closing, Earl Ashford?”

“I am innocent, Your Highness,” answered Julian. What more was there to say?

King Frederick sniffed and turned to face the assembled nobles. “You have all heard the same evidence I have. Is there any among you that believe the Earl’s words and are willing to stand with him?”

Countess Katherine Ashford rose and silently walked toward her husband, the heels of her boots clicking on the stone floor. She squeezed his hand briefly before letting go—knowing she would need hers free. Her gaze swept the room, starring daggers, before they settled on the King, the man who would decide their fate.

Silence reigned in the hall. No one dared speak as the king stared at the couple. He turned and returned to his throne. Taking his seat, he announced, “While a touching statement, as his wife, your support holds no merit.”

Scanning the room one last time before delivering his verdict, the king spoke. “Earl Julian Ashford, on the charge of high treason in a plot to assassinate your king and the Royal Family, you are found guilty and sentenced to death.”

The King’s proclamation was met with cries for and against, but the ruling was made. Guards moved forward but stopped when Countess Katherine Ashford shifted into a fighting stance.

“What are you doing?! Vacate the area Countess, your husband is guilty,” cried the king.

“If you are already going to kill an innocent, what is one more?” Kat yelled, eyes trained on the soldiers before her.

“Do as your king commands, Countess. Stand down!” King Frederick ordered, rising from his throne. The watching nobles backed away from growing the confrontation.

At her blatant disregard, the king demanded, “Fine! Kill them both. Mages, assist the guards!”

While not every noble was a mage, most of those in the room were Gifted. Ten stepped forward, though clearly divided in their desire to participate. One in particular, Countess Jemma Hightower, looked like she might be sick.

Kat noticed her old friend, eyes narrowing, she called, “Are you sure you want to do this Jemma? It has been a long time since the Academy. If you choose to fight, just know it’s my love you are trying to kill.”

There was a short internal battle within Jemma, but Kat recognized when she made her choice. Then you will be the first to die.

Julian watched from behind his wife, feeling helpless where he stood. If she takes out a guard then maybe I can grab their weapon. It was clear they would die here, but at least this way, it would be on their terms and together.

Kat moved first. Julian watched her reach out a hand like she meant to grab something. A moment later, one of the guard’s halberds was telekinetically ripping from their grasp. It fell like an executioners axe, fitting in this setting, to split open her former friend's skull with a sickening crunch. The blade getting stuck when its lower edge struck the mage’s collarbone.

Julian sprinted forward. Grabbing hold of the bloody weapon, he put a foot into the dead woman’s chest, kicking her back and jerking the polearm free with a wet sucking gurgle. Chaos erupted throughout the hall giving him an opportunity to charge back to protect his wife’s rear. When he’d nearly reached her, a fireball exploded at his feet. The blast set his pants ablaze and sent Julian flying through the air. Fortunately, years spent training under his father taught him how to fall. He landed in a roll, popping up to stand with his back pressed firmly against Kat’s. His halberd held across his body in a defensive stance, ready for the next attack.

Their rebellion was brief. One mage and a normal man, no matter how well trained, could not fight nine mages at the same time. A pair facing Julian teamed up, one sprayed water, soaking him to the bone, the other sucked the heat out of the water, turning it to ice. Julian fought to break its hold on him, but a third mage came forward, touched the ice and turned the entire sheet of ice into crystal. Behind him, Kat was also similarly subdued.

The king watched from his seat, as though the fight was a spectacle performed just for him.

“You killed two mages in a fight against ten. I am genuinely impressed Lady Ashford.” The king said, a smirk written on his face and evident in his voice. “It would be a waste for your life to end here. We can find you another husband and you can still serve the realm.”

“I would rather die,” she hissed before spitting in his direction.

Putting truth to her words, she shared one last look with Julian, and let the flames she’d been holding inside since the sentencing free. The intense heat melted everything within 5 feet of where she stood. Everything she wore, the ground beneath her feet, and the crystal encasing her husband, the flames hot enough to devour them both.