Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Seven: 'O, lordly guardian, know thy burdens...'

Boy, had there been a lot more that Lionel Carthrace had ended up telling Hector. For all the fuss that the guy had made about not wanting to speak ill of his aunt, once he’d finally gotten going, it was like a dam had burst, and story after story flowed out with such force that Hector eventually began to realize that Lionel probably didn't care so much about changing Hector's mind regarding Amelia as he did about finally having someone listen to him complaining about her.

Which seemed odd in its own way. Surely, his other family members would be happy to listen to him complain, no? Then again, perhaps not. Lionel was the head of House Carthrace, after all. Maybe he didn't want them to think he was weak or something by whining a whole bunch.

It didn't really matter, Hector supposed. After a while, he just kind of tuned the guy out and consulted Garovel about how best to extricate himself from the situation.

In the end, Hector relied on the thankfully good excuse that they had many more meetings to get to before the night concluded, and Lionel became abruptly apologetic, having apparently regained control of himself.

And after all that, Hector still didn't really know what to make of Amelia Carthrace and her family.

Hector's next few meetings went a bit more smoothly, perhaps because the Madame Carthrace was present for them. She didn't speak all that much, but when she did, it usually served to point the conversation in a helpful direction.

The meeting with Domitrus Vollier left perhaps the biggest impression on Hector. The wealthiest man in the country certainly did not carry himself like everyone else, but Hector wouldn't go so far as to call him arrogant, either. The man was very collected and polite, and his relationship with Amelia seemed somehow both affectionate and hostile, though maybe that was just some trick of the aristocracy that he didn't quite understand yet.

Oddly enough, Hector ended up kind of liking Domitrus, but he didn't exactly know why.

"He would be a very good ally to have," said Amelia in between meetings. "The Volliers are probably the second most influential family in the nation, at the moment."

Hector wanted to ask about her history with him, but there wasn't much time, and it seemed like there would be a lot to tell.

As the evening drew on, with meeting following meeting following still more meetings, Hector gradually began to feel less like a guest of royalty and more like a prisoner being interrogated.

'How many are left?' he asked Garovel.

'A mere fifty-seven,' the reaper said dryly.

He tried not to sigh audibly. 'Garovel, if I asked you to release my soul right now, would you do it?'

'Maybe if I got to go with you.'

Each meeting was only five to ten minutes, but with so many to get through, it quickly became clear that they were simply not going to be able to finish them all tonight.

Amelia and her apparent secretary set to work writing up apology letters, including requests to reschedule. It looked like Hector was going to be having sporadic meetings with the rest of the Atreyan lords for the next two or three months.

He wasn't terribly excited by that notion, but at least it freed up what little remained of the evening. He still hadn't even gotten to talk to Harper Norez yet.

When he finally did, however, it was not quite the reunion that he had expected.

'Well, look who it is,' said Darsihm, Harper's reaper. 'A pleasure to finally see you two again.'

'Likewise,' said Garovel, though his hollow eye sockets were drifting towards the unconscious man sitting at the bar. 'Uh...'

'Oh, ah--sorry.' Darsihm tapped his servant on the back of his head, and Harper jolted awake.

"Mugh?!"

Hector caught the stocky man before he fell off his bar stool. When Harper turned and squinted confusedly at him, Hector returned a flat smile. "Hello, Mr. Norez..."

The man needed a moment. "Oh, hey." He stood up without Hector's help and suppressed a burp. "Great to see you guys. How've you been? You look great. Been workin' out? It shows. Me, I'm doin' good, too, thanks for asking. You guys are so thoughtful, y'know that? There's no one better. Y-you--you guys're just the best. I hope you know that, okay? If anyone tells you different, y'just--" He had to steady himself on the edge of the bar. "Y'just send 'em my way. I'll set 'em straight, mkay? And y'know what else? This country of yours is great, too. You should be so proud of all the things that, uh, y'know. You have. Here. It's just great. Everyone's great. I hope we can--"

And the man just kept talking.

Hector was wholly entertained, but he did have a question. 'Garovel, can reapers fix drunkenness in their servants?'

'Mm, sort of,' the reaper said privately. 'We can suppress it temporarily, and we can numb the pain of a hangover, but they just come back stronger later.'

Perhaps Darsihm was guessing what they were thinking, because he said, 'If there's anything important you want to talk about, I can put him back to normal for you real quick.'

"What're you sayin'? I'm not broken. I'm feelin' great, right now. I could talk about anything. I could tell you the secrets of the universe. Ask me whatever you want. I've got an answer."

'Is that right?' said Garovel through mild laughter, and Hector could already tell that the reaper planned to screw with him.

"You're damn right it is," said Harper, sniffing loudly.

'Alright, then I've got a question for you,' said Garovel. 'What is the meaning of life?'

"Oh, duuude. What a great question. Y'know somethin'? You're a great questioner. Anyone ever tell you that? 'Cuz it's true. Hundred percent. So great. If I could give you an award, right now, I would. I'd vote for you, too. Come election time. You'd be a great prezi-p-prezi... m-minister."

'Well, thank you.' Garovel sounded like he could barely contain himself.

"You think I'm kiddin'? I'm not. You'd kill it. I'm sure you could fix. Just. Everything, y'know?"

Garovel was nodding along. 'Do you even remember my name?'

Harper squinted at him. Then he inhaled so much air at once that Hector wondered if he was trying to inflate his whole body until he popped like a balloon. "Yeah, o'course I 'member your name. You're... V... Vvv--?"

'Starts with a "G",' advised Darsihm, who apparently didn't feel like keeping that bit of assistance private.

"Mm." Harper thought for a long moment. "Grant?"

'That's a Vanguardian Field Marshal,' said Garovel. 'Good try, though.'

"Buh..." Harper scratched his head. "Germal?"

'Germal?' said Garovel. 'That's an Ancient Melmoorian folk hero. How do you even know that name?'

"Mugh?" was all Harper had to say.

Darsihm chimed in for him. 'You're very knowledgeable. But as it so happens, Germal is also currently the name of a prominent member of Abolish. Perhaps you've heard of him without realizing it. The Liar of Lyste?'

'Ah, yes, I remember that moniker,' said Garovel. 'Have the two you ever encountered this person?'

'We have not,' said Darsihm, 'but one of our superiors has taken a keen interest in him--an interest which I think has rubbed off on Harper here.'

Harper looked like he wasn't even listening, anymore. He was staring at the bartender, who was busy pouring a glass of wine for a different guest.

'When he's sober, anyway,' the reaper added.

'Hmm. Which superior would that be, if you don't mind my asking?'

Darsihm took a moment to perhaps deliberate whether or not he should share that information with them. 'Captain General Frederick. I'm not at liberty to share any more than that, I'm afraid. I probably shouldn't have even shared that much, honestly, but I feel you've earned a modicum of trust.'

'I understand,' said Garovel. 'Believe me, there's no need to explain yourself.'

The reapers kept talking, but a familiar voice acquired Hector's attention.

"Lord Goffe?"

He turned to see King William standing there, looking quite regal in his formal attire. His coat was mostly white laced with silver, aside from the big blue sash that extended diagonally down his chest. The man's missing arm wasn't all that noticeable if one wasn't looking for it, but Hector was. In fact, it was usually the first thing he thought of when seeing the King, and that probably wasn't going to change anytime soon.

Hector had no intention of ever forgetting the brutality that Abolish had visited upon this innocent man.

Upon his king.

"Your Highness," Hector said with an uncertain bow. "How are you feeling?"

The King smiled at him. "Quite well, thank you. And are you in good health, my young friend?"

"Ah--yeah. I'm--er--thank you." Crap, why was he getting nervous again? Sure, he didn't know all that much about King William compared to the Queen, but they were just exchanging pleasantries here. Why was that beginning to feel more stressful than talking business with a bunch nobles he'd never met?

"You certainly look well," said William. "Unlike the poor Lt. General over there."

They both glanced at Harper, who was unconscious again. Perhaps Darsihm had knocked him out to prevent him from drinking more.

That made Hector curious, though. "Have you been getting to know him?"

"I have. And I must say, I find his company quite enjoyable when he is sober."

Hector bobbed his head. "I found it quite enjoyable when he was drunk, too."

The King chortled. "At first, I was worried that such inebriation would hinder his ability to protect my wife, but he was happy to demonstrate for me earlier this evening that he could turn it on and off as easily as flipping a switch."

Hector wondered if the King knew about the longer term ramifications of 'turning it off,' but he supposed it didn't matter that much.

"You servants are very curious," said William. "The term 'servant' hardly even seems appropriate, given all of which you are capable."

Hector could only bob his head again. He was pretty sure that the man already knew all about reapers as well, so he didn't try to clarify that point.

"But I digress," said the King. "There was a matter that I have been wishing to discuss with you. Perhaps we could talk in private?"

Hector was a bit surprised to hear that, honestly, considering he'd already had a serious conversation with the Queen earlier this evening, but he certainly wasn't about to turn the man down, either. "Ah--sure. Lead the way."

William guided Hector to the eastern hallway, then into a small conference room. A couple of palace staff members were using it, but when the King asked to borrow it for a few minutes, they were practically falling over themselves to accommodate him.

Once they were alone, William walked to the other end of the long table in the middle of the room. While he waited for the man to begin talking again, Hector noticed Garovel phase through the wall.

'What're you talking about in here?'

'Don't know yet,' said Hector. 'The King seems kind of... apprehensive for some reason.'

Garovel didn't get the chance to inquire further, because William began talking.

"This has been stewing in my mind for some months now, and yet with all of that time to prepare my thoughts, I am still uncertain about where to begin."

Hector gave a sympathetic frown. The man sounded like he needed reassurance, so Hector decided to say, "Whatever it is, I'm listening."

The King spared him a glance. "I appreciate that."

And there was more silence, but Hector chose to just be patient.

"In this past year," said William, "I have come to realize that the world is far stranger and more terrifying than I ever dared imagine. In particular, learning about the existence of reapers has caused me to reevaluate my perspective on a great many things."

Still, Hector merely waited.

"...How much do you know about my family?" the King asked. "About House Belgrant?"

"Ah... not very much, I guess."

"Are you at all familiar with the story of how House Belgrant came to be?"

Hector shook his head.

"Then perhaps I should tell it to you before I say anything more. Forgive me if this seems self-indulgent. That is not my intent. I do not mean to waste your time or mine."

"Okay..."

"Before Atreya was born, this land belonged to the Mohssian Empire," said William. "And at that time, the noble House of Belgrant did not exist, either--unlike virtually every other family that is present at the Gala tonight. As far as the aristocracy is concerned, we are still comparatively young."

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"You're talking about over three hundred years ago," said Hector. "If your house is young, then what does that make mine?"

The man gave a faint laugh. "You have a point, but such is the nature of this country's aristocracy." He paused, perhaps to regather his thoughts. "Regardless, the story of how my family rose to the noble class is intimately tied to the story of Atreya's independence."

"Er, really?" said Hector. "I, uh... I happened to be reading about that subject the other day, and I don't remember seeing the name Belgrant mentioned."

"Ah, yes. We were given little credit for our role, historically. The nobles of the era likely thought that our ascension into the aristocracy was enough of a reward."

"I see..."

"But if you know the story of Atreya's acquisition of independence, then you know that it was a peaceful affair accomplished with no bloodshed."

"Yeah," affirmed Hector. "And it was even more impressive because of how violent things were at the time."

"Indeed," said William. "Some might even argue that it was more than impressive. They might say that it was a genuinely impossible feat."

Hector wasn't sure what he was getting at.

"Such claims, when I heard them in the past, I did not take seriously," said William. "And why would I? It was an achievement to be admired, not questioned--not used to fuel conspiratorial or magical thinking."

Hector couldn't conceal the confusion on his face. "What are you trying to say?"

The King took a deliberate breath. "I am saying there may be evidence--which I previously dismissed as mere superstition--that my ancestor used something from your realm of expertise in order to help secure Atreya's independence from the Mohssian Empire."

"Something like what?" said Hector.

"Some type of object, I think."

"Why do you think that?"

"Stories told among my family imply the existence of such an object. And more recently--" William reached into his coat and retrieved something. "--I discovered this."

It was a small, misshapen book, leathery and brown apart from the black edges on one side, where it looked like a chunk had been ripped out of it--or burned out, perhaps.

"The ancestor in question was named Charles Belgrant," the King said. "Unfortunately, this is not his journal. From what I have gathered, he may not have even known how to read or write, despite being the one who elevated my family into the upper class. Instead, this is the journal of his eldest daughter, Irina Belgrant."

Hector was sufficiently intrigued. "And what does it say?"

"Well, as you can see, it is somewhat... charred. I believe this was the result of the tragic fire which nearly ended my family's bloodline--and also burnt Belgrant Castle to the ground."

"Wow, uh... I'm sorry to hear that."

"As was I."

That last bit of information sparked an incredulous question from Hector. "How many times has that castle been destroyed, by the way?"

The man took a moment to think. "Four, I believe."

Hector's eyes widened a little. "Seriously?"

The man nodded. "But we are digressing. This journal, as you might imagine, gives only a partial picture of Charles' life and accomplishments, but having pored through its pages multiple times now, I can say with some confidence that it corroborates the notion that Charles was in possession of some type of special item--if only briefly. It also mentions him losing it, though the text is unclear as to when this occurred."

A special item, huh?

After everything that happened during his last treasure hunt, Hector wasn't terribly excited to get involved in another one.

Still, he couldn't deny that his curiosity was piqued. "Do you have any clue what this 'special item' actually was?" he asked.

"Not exactly," said William. "I was hoping that you would be able to help me discover more details--or the item itself, even."

"Ah--hmm." Hector nearly asked how the King expected him to be of any help, but he held his tongue. It seemed like the man had more to say, anyway.

"The only clues I currently have are those that can be gleaned from the story of Charles and our nation's independence. And that is not much from which to work."

Hector bobbed his head, then shrugged. "Well. It's better than nothing. Tell me."

"Very well," said William. "There are various tellings of the tale, but they all begin the same way: with Charles having the spirit of an explorer from a very young age. He enlists in the military not in order to serve the Empire, but instead simply to escape Sunland, his hometown. And a life of poverty, perhaps.

"His time in the Mohssian army is always glossed over in the tales, and his service records paint a rather uneventful picture as well, but I feel that something quite crucial must have happened to him during this period of his life, because in every telling of his story, he returns to Atreya a changed man. He is charismatic and confident. He gets married and starts a family. He quickly builds a reputation for himself as a reliable and personable man. And though he is not described as extravagant, he never seems to struggle financially, either."

Hector already had more questions, but he decided to just concentrate on listening for now.

William continued. "Charles becomes involved in the independence movement several years before it begins to pick up steam with the general public. He continues to travel to other countries regularly for various reasons, but increasingly, those reasons involve speaking with prominent revolutionaries across the Empire." The King paused, eyeing Hector a moment. "The Rainlords were among them. Lluc and Marcelo Redwater. Perhaps you know of them?"

The last name certainly rang a bell, but he didn't recognize the first ones.

Garovel chimed in privately. 'Those two were the chief instigators of the Redwater Uprising. I'd be happy to explain all about them later.'

Hector didn't doubt the reaper's enthusiasm. "The Redwater Uprising," was all Hector chose to say to the King, however.

"Yes. Now that I'm thinking of it, Warrenhold had an oblique connection to that ordeal as well, did it not?" He smiled, but his eyes seemed to hold a keener interest behind them. "What an interesting coincidence."

Garovel was chortling. 'Is this guy some kind of history nut?'

Hector was beginning to think so.

'We should talk to him more often.'

That pulled a small laugh out of Hector, despite trying to hold back. And at the King's apparent curiosity, he tried to clarify. "I think my reaper likes you, Your Highness."

"Oh? I am... flattered. I think."

"Yeah, it's a compliment."

The man looked aimlessly around the room. "Well, thank you then, wherever you are."

Hector pointed the reaper out for him, and the King corrected his line of sight.

'Hey, tell him my name.'

"His name is Garovel, by the way."

"Ah, yes, that sounds familiar. Helen may have mentioned him before."

Garovel gasped. 'Now I'M flattered. Tell him how flattered I am.'

"Now he's flattered, too."

'Tell him how smart and handsome I am, as well.'

'Shut up, Garovel.'

"Well, I am pleased to please," said William.

Hector smiled but also cocked an eyebrow at the man.

"Heh." The King's expression was briefly distant with memory. "My father used to say that all the time. He greatly enjoyed making other people happy." After a moment, the nostalgia in his eyes passed. "But I suppose we are getting sidetracked again. Where am I in Charles' story?"

"He's meeting revolutionaries around the Empire," said Hector.

"That's right. It is at this time that the Atreyan independence movement begins to gain popularity--in large part, I think, because the idea of achieving it peacefully is put forth by a young and vibrant Domitrus Lumenbel. The news of all the inhuman violence taking place elsewhere in the world has likely soured the general public to any and all notions of war. Charles, meanwhile, returns home after another long journey abroad, and this is where his story becomes... questionable."

Hector just tilted his head and waited.

"As far as I have been able to tell, up until this point in his life, Charles Belgrant has had no direct contact with any members of the aristocracy. He has built up quite a network of friends and associates all across the Empire--and perhaps even beyond it--but no Atreyan nobles have ever been among them. Until, that is, his long-time involvement in the independence movement propels him to the forefront of discussion between the aristocracy and the lower classes.

"Why he is chosen as one of the mediators between these clashing groups... is unclear. Perhaps it is merely his charisma, but it still seems strange to me, given the rather oppressive era in which this took place, that someone without even a drop of noble blood would have been picked for such a task. Every other mediator mentioned is someone of this type. A distant cousin's fifth son. An eccentric lord's stepchild. Lower nobles, yet nobles nonetheless. But not Charles."

Perhaps it was a bit late into the conversation, but Hector decided to pick one of the conference chairs and sit down as he listened.

The King followed suit with barely a pause. "I believe that Charles, at this point, may have already been in possession of the special object in question."

"Really?"

"Yes, I think his appointment as mediator might just be odd enough to have been instigated via some supernatural means."

"Hmm."

"In any case, the job of the mediators at this time is very important. Though the aristocracy may be loathe to admit it, they need the public's support on grand matters of state such as this, lest they end up having to fight both a revolutionary war and a civil war simultaneously. And moreover, there is no definitive Atreyan royalty yet. The aristocracy can choose anyone to lead them at their own discretion, of course, but if they pick someone who is sufficiently despised by the commoners, then that too might very well result in a quick demise for this fledgling nation."

'Y'know, I really appreciate all these unnecessary-yet-still-relevant-and-interesting details,' said Garovel. 'This is a man after my own heart.'

Hector knew the reaper wasn't being sarcastic.

"And so," the King went on, "Domitrus Lumenbel emerges as a candidate for rule. He has both the pedigree and disposition for it. We know now, of course, that he went on to become Atreya's first king, but he was not without competition. His foremost rival in this endeavor is Linus Vollier, and in the competition between these two men, Charles becomes a significant factor. You see, there is a tournament being held in Brighton." The King paused again, apparently remembering. "Your hometown, no?"

"Oh, uh, actually, I was born in Selbury," said Hector. "But my family moved around a lot when I was younger, so... uh, I don't really... feel like I have a hometown, I guess." After a beat, he felt compelled to add, "I do like Gray Rock so far, though."

"I see," said the King. "In any case, the tournament in Brighton that I am speaking of is perhaps different from what you might be imagining." Before continuing, he seemed to catch himself, and then smirked. "Then again, perhaps it is exactly what you, of all people, would imagine."

Hector cocked an eyebrow at that. "What do you mean by that?"

"Heh. Because it is a knight's tourney."

Hector was unsurprised. Of course it was. Was there any other kind of tournament three hundred years ago? Well, on second thought, Hector supposed it could've been one of those super old sports for rich people, like polo or something.

Oh, but this was what the King meant, wasn't it? That he, of all people, would already be imagining it correctly.

Hmm.

"In terms of physical prowess, I am sure this tournament pales in comparison to those featuring the monstrous knights of Intar or Sair," said the King, "but I feel it is nonetheless still an event of virtually incomparable importance where the history of Atreya is concerned.

"Charles, of course, is not a knight, so he does not personally participate, but at the beginning of the tournament, he befriends one Paul Greenway, who does participate--and in spectacular fashion, no less.

"You see, Paul is one of many knights who support Domitrus, but they are still outnumbered by those who support Linus. As far as the Empire is concerned, the official prize of the tournament is merely coin and horses, but unofficially, there is a quiet agreement among the lords that whichever faction wins will be the one that they all rally behind in pursuit of independence.

"As you might imagine, this raises the stakes quite a bit. In particular, the melee is especially brutal, where over a dozen men are killed, and even more are wounded. There are rumors of sabotaging horses and equipment, rampant bribery, and even attempts to assassinate competitors while they sleep."

Hector was staring. "Holy crap..."

"It does not paint a very 'noble' picture, does it?" said William.

Hector had a question that he both did and did not want to ask. "Was... was King Domitrus' faction doing that, too? Cheating?"

"The exact truth of the matter is unclear, but it would not surprise me if that were the case. At the very least, I suspect that Charles did something because of what happens at the climax of the tourney.

"Paul Greenway is alone in the final melee against four mounted opponents. Half of his quad had become suddenly ill and were therefore unable to participate. His only companion in the fight was killed almost immediately, and even his own horse threw him off and fled the arena."

Hector could guess where this was going. "And he still won?"

"Yes. In a miraculous display of ability, Paul Greenway is able to win the day single-handedly."

"Do you think he was a servant?" Hector asked.

"That is one possibility," said the King, "but by all accounts that I have read, Paul went on to live a largely unremarkable life thereafter. Never again did he distinguish himself in any military matters, and he died peacefully in his sleep at the age of seventy-three."

"Hmm."

"While it is possible that he could have hidden his abilities for the rest of his life or that these records could simply be false, I am now of the opinion that Charles gave Paul some manner of supernatural aid."

"Were there any details of the fight itself?"

"Only that his opponents never landed a single blow on him. This, despite him being lightly wounded earlier in the tournament."

"That does sound pretty suspicious..." Hector wondered if even the Scarf of Amordiin would allow him to avoid getting hit by four simultaneous opponents on horseback. Eh, maybe it could. He almost wanted to give it a try.

"In the end," said William, "I believe this tournament served as a springboard for Charles into the upper class. Naturally, in the wake of the tourney, Paul's reputation skyrockets, and his friendship also grows even stronger. Nearly every event to which Paul is invited, Charles also attends.

"And now, finally, we arrive at the heart of the story. The push for independence. Charles' role as a mediator between the aristocracy and the lower classes is more important than ever. He understands the plight of the common man, and he is also able to articulate his points to the lords and ladies without slighting them or otherwise incurring their wrath.

"Within six months of the Tourney at Brighton Castle, Charles has gained a reputation for charm and persuasiveness. It is he who convinces the many advisors to King Domitrus to build Bosliat Palace as a show of wealth and power to all who would later visit our nation."

Hector was still listening, but in a parallel thought, he couldn't help being surprised at something.

There was a castle in Brighton? Was it still standing to this day? What did it look like? What kind of fortifications did it have? Was it still functional?

"It was for this reason," the King was saying, "that I believe Domitrus chose Charles to be a member of the welcoming party for Nominus Lobo, the now famous ambassador of the Mohssian Empire who would later convince the emperor to grant Atreya its independence."

Hector merely nodded. He'd read Lobo's personal account of events just the other day, but somehow, mentioning that now seemed like a bad idea--like he would be trying to show off, maybe. That, and he didn't want to interrupt the King. He enjoyed observing the man's apparent passion for his subject matter as he spoke.

"This next part of the tale is not widely agreed upon by Atreyan historians," said William. "Many, I am sure, would argue that Charles' role in persuading Ambassador Lobo was minimal or even nonexistent. But I tell you: I do not believe it. Two other members of that welcoming party wrote of their experience, and they both stated that Lobo was incredibly unpleasant from the moment he set foot in the palace. He refused to try any local cuisines and instead demanded that every meal include certain foods, one of which was carambola, a fruit which only grows on the other side of the world in Ardora."

"Geez..."

"He was also reportedly disrespectful toward King Domitrus and even made a pass at the man's wife--along with several other married women."

Hector pressed his lips together flatly as he painfully imagined that.

"However," the King continued, "on the third day of his visit, his attitude suddenly and dramatically changed. He became much more accommodating and amiable. He even apologized for his past behavior."

Hector scratched his cheek, still a bit skeptical. "And you think Charles was behind that?"

"I do."

"But..." Hector was worried he might spoil the King's enthusiasm by saying this, but he needed clarification. "Lobo's own accounting of those events never even mentioned a Charles Belgrant."

"Ah!" Instead than looking upset, the King's expression lit up even more. "You have read it?"

Oh, crap, he'd intended to keep that to himself, hadn't he? "Er, y-yeah..."

"Wonderful!" The man's smile only broadened, but he tilted his head at Hector, too. "Why do you seem so embarrassed?"

"Uh... I... ah..." Aw, shit, what should he say? Maybe just the truth? "I... I don't know."

The man's brow depressed with either confusion or pity--or possibly both. "You are a very strange young man."

Hector just kind of rubbed his neck and averted his gaze.

"But you are right," said William. "Nominus Lobo's personal account of the visit makes no mention of Charles. This fact is precisely what most historians point to whenever they try to downplay Charles' role in the independence movement."

"Ah--I didn't mean to be disrespectful or anything, er--"

William held up a hand. "Oh, no, I understand that. Worry not. I appreciate your concern, but it is not necessary. While I do cherish my family's legacy, it is not pride that compels me to share this story with you. Rather, I am hoping it will be of some use to you--or your reaper, perhaps."

Hector glanced at Garovel.

'Thoughtful guy,' the reaper said.

"In any case," said William, "there is a reason why I believe Nominus Lobo's personal account may be inaccurate, and that is because of Paul Greenway's account of the knight's tourney.

"Late in his life, Paul wrote a memoir in which he reveals that, despite how much of an impact that tournament had on the rest of his life, he did not actually remember the final melee. He could recall nothing after his first joust, in which he was injured. After that, he only remembered waking up and being informed of the spectacular events after the fact."

Hector's eyes went to the floor as he thought about that.

"To me," said the King, "this speaks to the nature of Charles' intervention. I believe Charles did something to help Paul, and in so doing, left the man with no memory of what happened. And if this was truly the case, then I do not think it unlikely that Charles could have done something to Lobo's memory as well."

Hector was quiet. He did not much care for how uncomfortably familiar this tale was beginning to sound.

The King motioned to the charred book from earlier, which he had since laid on the conference table. "In Irina's journal, she describes her father's version of events regarding Lobo. According to her, Lobo became much more 'persuadable' after Charles showed him... something. The chunk of text where Irina presumably named and provided details about the object in question was unfortunately burned off."

Of course it was, Hector thought. "So... to sum up... this is secondhand information that is in dispute by other, firsthand information. And it's been partially burned, too, so this secondhand information isn't even complete."

A beat passed as the King looked at him. "Yes, that about covers it."

Hector gave a chuckling nod. "Great."

"You can see why most of our historians do not put much credence into this theory."

"Yes, Your Highness. Yes, I can."

"I acknowledge that it is not ideal."

Hector held back a sigh, but not because he found the King's story exasperating. Rather, if he was being one hundred percent honest with himself, he already kinda believed it. He just wished that he didn't.

As little as three months ago, he probably would've been far more skeptical of a story like this, but after his experiences in the Undercrust--particularly in Himmekel--this flimsy, barely-making-any-sense tale from the King was actually ringing somewhat true to Hector's ears.

The idea of a magical artifact holding such power... sadly, that sounded perfectly reasonable now.

Agh.

Somehow, Hector felt like this was spoiling the entire tale of Atreya's independence for him. The notion that Bosliat Palace in all its splendor had wowed Ambassador Lobo so greatly that it changed the course of history? That had been such a beautiful and surprising thing to learn about. In retrospect, Hector loved it.

And now it was ruined by some kind of dark magic mind fuckery.

Goddammit.