Chapter 2: Malachi

There was fire and blood running amok on the streets of New Paris. A thousand people had gathered to riot through the town's main roads, and the stench of sweat and iron in the air was as poignant as could possibly be. The young prince Malachi was lucky; while violence reigned in the streets down below, he was shielded. He had the luxury of his family's palace, and instead of being in the midst of the conflict, he got to watch it from afar in a purple room where swords, spears, and aces hung from the walls. His father's warroom, a room he had heard much about but only now was lucky enough to actually enter.

His father had told him there was something he wanted him to see—something for the eyes of his heir and only for his heir.

A wide TV screen was placed in front of him, and a news channel played a scene. His father made a show of changing the channel multiple times, and to the bafflement of Malachi, it was the same scene on every channel.

Everyone was reporting on the protesting of who the Earl called a mad woman.

"My niece was arrested by that tyrant on the charcoal throne!" The woman said. "We will suffer his tyranny no longer!"

If not for the woman's voice, it would've been hard to pick her out from the rest of the crowd. She blended in with a swarm of commoners who had gathered together and hung on to her every word.

"Who here has had a loved one taken from them by the powers that be?" She said.

As Malachi got a better look, he eventually recognized the woman. It was Melissa Tiwary, a brown woman freckled and young. Younger than even her own niece Jasmine Tiwary, who just the day before was arrested and brought into custody over the murder of Lucia Lincoln.

"If I say if they take one of us, we should take of them." Said Melissa to resounding applause and cheers from the crowd.

Malachi's father was red with rage and turned off the TV in anger.

"This woman threatens us. She seeks to see our house fallen." Said Alfred, near yelling. He stomped as he walked around the room, and Malachi felt as if he could feel flames rising from his father's skin.

It had only been a week since Alfred Lincoln had sent out the arrest warrants in his search for his daughter's murderers. Newspapers were quick to report on the matter; three people were arrested, but only one of them made headlines. Jasmine Tiwary, a celebrity in every sense of the word, was charged with the murder of her own best friend. Tabloids couldn't help but salivate at the story, and with Jasmine's aunt calling him a tyrant for the arrest, Alfred displayed an anger Malachi rarely saw from his father.

"Son, you be ever watchful. People pray on our downfall." Said Alfred.

"I know, dad." Said Malachi, hiding his doubts from his father.

Ever since the passing of his sister Malachi, he had been given many lessons by his father, many of which seemed to leave his mind as soon as they entered. There was too much being said, too much to learn, and not enough time to learn it.

"You say you know, but I don't believe you understand." Alfred placed a hand on his son's shoulder. He led Malachi to the entrance of the warroom, opening a door and pointing a hand outside to one of the many vast hallways that made up their palace. "There are enemies everywhere; that fiend who murdered Lucia is one of them but far from the only. I believe within our very walls there are people who seek to harm us."

Malachi had to hold back his doubts. Part of him wanted to question his father, but he knew better to question him during a time like this. "I understand, dad, enemies everywhere."

"I want to make sure you do not forget." Alfred said.

'I could never forget how often you tell,' thought Malachi, who held his tongue instead of just nodding at his father.

His father's eyebrow raised. "Speak up, son; an Earl is never quiet." Said Alfred.

"Sorry, I want to help." Said Malachi. "Help us find who killed Lucia; help out the family in the best way I can. Anything I can do."

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"Then help by becoming an Earl that can rule when I can no longer. Your sister's killer will be discovered; you can trust me on that." He said, beginning to walk through the hallway and gesturing for his son to follow.

"Dad," said Malachi with a bit of hesitation. "Who will be the detective for the case?" He asked.

"I will find someone among the police forces of New Paris." Said Alfred.

Malachi frowned. He knew in his own heart that Lucia deserved better than that, better than his father's own men. Even though he was hesitant to admit it. "Our police force hasn't even found Virgil's body yet; how can we be sure they can?"

"Hush." The Earl interrupted his son and stopped in his steps. "We must put faith in those around us. Those who serve us, serve us well, Kai."

"Why can't Jacob do it? I trust him more than any random police officer." Asked Malachi. He thought of the power Jacob had—how his sword would glow and he would go to battle. A knight, one who could solve anything as far as Malachi was concerned.

"Jacob is no detective; neither are you." Said Alfred.

Malachi shook his head. "If I'm going to be an Earl, then I need to have a say in these sorts of things."

Malachi watched as his father sighed and caressed his temples. It felt weird standing up for himself to his father; he never knew how the old Earl would react or if he would truly be heard.

"Malachi, you have a point. What do you think we should do for this case?" Asked his father.

Malachi beamed. "There's a woman in Bethel; they say she can enter the minds of others. I think she would be better than anyone we could find here for the case."

"I have heard of such a woman." The Earl said.

"Well, I uh read about her." Said Malachi.

"In one of those books about magical people and the things they do? I thought you grew out of those." Said Alfred.

Malachi shrugged. "You said you wanted me to read more."

"That is true. Okay, my son, I will go through all the proper channels, and I still want the police involved. We go through the law, Malachi; we are not the law." The Earl smiled. "I will admit, she is not a bad option. A good one even."

Malachi smiled at his father. "Really?"

"Yes, a great Earl you may become. The most important part of being a great ruler is choosing those in your court so that they may rule for you, but enough of lessons for today. Come with me; there is more to discuss."

As far as Malachi was concerned these days, there was always a lot to discuss. His sister died, and now anything anyone wanted to do was give him lessons and discuss politics. There was no time for fun, only time to prepare and work. It was exhausting.

Soon his father led Malachi down a flight of stairs to the bewilderment of both Malachi and Alfred; they saw a group of servants huddled together having a discussion. It must've been every servant in the entire palace; Jacob was with them, and even though he was a great knight of Aeon within that crowd, he looked no more than an ordinary soldier.

"No one's working?" Alfred said, frowning. "What is the meaning of this?"

The room went quiet, and it felt as if a chill had gone through the entire room. "The news has us frightened, sire." One of the servants said it was a chef who sweated through his white hat and whose eyes were wide with shock.

"I can't hardly tend to the animals with all this ruckus." Another servant said, this one a rancher.

Alfred gulped. Malachi watched his father carefully; in the face of friction, he trusted his father to act with poise.

"I understand." Alfred said. "It is a tough time for us all. In fact, just for today, everyone can go back to their quarters. Please get some rest."

Muffled voices came from the crowd, and not a single person was quick to move. In all his years, Malachi had never seen his father so vulnerable.

"That is an order. It's been a while since I have cooked my own grub, but I am not so daft that I can't figure out how to put something together." Said Alfred, with a wide, toothy grin.

The tension among the servants ceased when they heard Alfred's words, and people came to bow at their Earl, one by one, before making their leave. They thanked him and promised that they would return tomorrow ready to work as they always did. Malachi smiled, as did his father.

"And if you would like to stay, I'll even make something for you all today. I believe we have some spaghetti noodles around here somewhere. Perhaps enough for the entire palace." Said Alfred.

Just like that, the somber room had turned into a party. Chairs and tables came out, drinks were brought from the cellars, and music was played for the room. The Earl left for the kitchen, eyed a bag of noodles, and dumped them into a pot to boil. Malachi looked at his father with awe. 'Dad, always does know how to make the best of something,' he thought.

It seemed like the only person in the entire palace not in the mood to party was Jacob, who instead of joining in the drinking and music playing stared at his phone silently. He did not even stand near others; he instead waited until Alfred and Malachi were alone to speak to them in private.

"Sir, I do not wish to put a damper on your mood, but there is something you need to see me." Said Jacob.

The Earl's smile faded, and his nodded. "Show me."

From the screen of Jacob's phone, it was another video of Melissa, this one more incendiary than the last.

"For too long the Tiwarys have been kept out of nobility." She said it from the screen. "For too long have nobles abused us commoners. I say we remove those in power who abuse us and take power for ourselves! Only then will things be right."

Alfred eye twitched, and Malachi saw a flash of anger from his father. "Have her arrested. If she wants to see her niece again so badly, then she can see her in our crypts."

"As you wish, sir. I'll contact the police and have them visit the Tiwary manor." Said Jacob

"And Jacob," said Alfred.

"Yes sir?"

"That blind woman, the one who reads minds. You have worked with her before, haven't you?"

"Briefly. She aided the entire order of knights, not just me."

Alfred looked into the eyes of the old knight with a serious expression—one that did not relent and yield for anyone.

"Would you trust her with finding my daughter's killer?" Asked Alfred.

"A criminal can lie, but their mind cannot. That is what I have learned from her investigations. Make of that what you will." Said Jacob. "She is smart, but she is young. Inexperienced."

The Earl's eyes narrowed. "I want to meet her myself and bring her here. If she can really read minds, then I need her for the investigation."

"It seems you have already made your choice then. I will send the arrest warrant." Said Jacob.

Jacob left the kitchen to do his duties and left the Earl and Malachi alone in the kitchen, where spaghetti was boiled and sauce was mixed. "Son, I will go to Bethel and find this detective speak of. I promise I will be back for your crowning; it will only be a few days at most."

"You're really going to meet her?" Asked Malachi.

"Yes, I will. You'll meet her too, son. You'll meet her too."