“Your Grace… and Sir Kylian, as well.” Aldous opened the door to his quarters, bowing in Ailn’s direction. “I hope my current appearance doesn’t offend you. Please, take a seat.”

A doublet over his tunic for warmth, Aldous gave off a respectable impression, considering it was the nighttime.

His room, meanwhile, was quite spacious. Sturdy oak furniture all around, with multiple lanterns on the wall for effective lighting. The room was warm from the lit hearth.

Paperwork was neatly organized on his desk.

“The job never stops for you, does it Aldous?” Ailn asked, sitting down. Two chairs in the middle of the room faced a larger one, and all three came with the luxury of cushions and armrests. A low table sat between them.

“If I didn’t take care of any of it in the nighttime, my office in the barracks would flood with parchment,” Aldous chuckled. “Unfortunately, right now I’m going over compensation claims.”

Kylian stiffened. He should be used to it, but it had been a long time since he’d served at the northern wall.

“Was it the young knight I saw this morning?” Kylian asked. “She seemed to be on one of her first patrols.”

“Ah, are you referring to Dame Colette? No. But, it was someone within that troop. Sir Ivan.” Aldous sighed.

“...I see.” Kylian’s face darkened. “That’s a shame to hear.”

“It’s a terrible loss. He’d been in the knights for a long time.”

“Sir Ivan was a good friend of mine. Please give his family my regards.” Kylian’s gaze fell to the ground.

“Of course.” Aldous gave Kylian a moment to compose himself, before they got down to the urgent matter at hand. “I trust that the two of you have continued your investigation?”

“It’s been a mixed bag,” Ailn said. “At least in terms of concrete evidence.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Aldous said. “I’ve been doing my best, as well. I’ve collected affidavits from all knights who were out in the bailey that day. I hope it’ll be of use during the inquest tomorrow.”

“More than anything, Aldous, we need your support.” Ailn leaned in. “Can you guarantee that if we prove who the culprit is, we can guarantee justice—no matter who they are, and how important they might be to the duchy?”

Aldous took a deep breath and let out a weary sigh. He closed his eyes. “Of course, Your Grace. You have my word. The Azure Knights are bound under justice as would be any chivalric order. For matters such as this, no one is untouchable.”

“I mean it, Aldous. No matter who they are. I trust you understand what I’m saying.”

“I… do not fail to grasp your meaning, Your Grace,” Aldous said with a regretful tone. “The Azure Knights will be informed duly. I will make sure every knight in attendance tomorrow understands that the very honor of our order is at stake—and with it, the soul of Varant.”

“... I can’t imagine it going that simply,” Kylian said, somewhere between doubt and astonishment. He hadn’t expected Aldous to be this decisive. “Who’s to say they’ll even side with us?”

“The knights will be reminded of their duties, in principle. Not told outright our intentions, or who we suspect.” Aldous said.

“I… see. Then it’s a sort of ambush,” Kylian said plaintively. “Before they even realize what’s happening, we must present irrefutable evidence.”

It was more than just a daunting task. Frankly, Kylian questioned whether it would work at all—the only reason he gave it any credence was due to Aldous’s decisive support.

He tried to rub the tiredness out of his eyes. His headache was coming on again, and the exhaustion was coming all at once. Doubts about the soundness of the plan were creeping in, but it wasn’t as if there was any alternative.

Were they all even on the same page?

“Then we’ll leave it at that,” Ailn said, getting up.

“Your Grace?” Kylian looked at Ailn, utterly confused. “You don’t think it’s wise to discuss further?”

“Well, I’ve got my reasons.” Ailn once again averted his eyes. “We all saw the same evidence, didn’t we? It could be problematic if the three of us went into the inquest with the blinders on, just because we’ve already decided the truth here.”

Kylian arched an eyebrow. That almost made sense, but it still sounded like he was making an excuse.

“That seems wise, Your Grace,” Aldous nodded. “Then let us hope for the best for tomorrow, so that we may discover the truth. Ah, Kylian. Would you mind staying a moment?”

“Certainly. Is there something you wish to discuss?” Kylian asked.

“There is. Of course, you’re free to listen if you wish, Your Grace,” Aldous said.

Ailn furrowed his brow, and thought it over before shaking his head. “I’ll go ahead. I have a private conversation of my own I need to have tonight.”

Ailn turned and left the room with a backward wave of his hand. Kylian and Aldous could hear his footsteps echoing down the castle corridor as he left.

Aldous stood up from his chair and walked over to his desk. He’d always been a strong knight, whose steadfast presence gave confidence to the knights he led in battle. But watching him now, he looked defeated. His shoulders had the slightest sag, and there was a stiffness in his gait.

“Kylian, tell me honestly. Who do you believe attacked His Grace?” Aldous asked.

“...I don’t have a certain suspect,” Kylian said. “I have my suspicious. But as of yet —”

“Be clear with me Kylian.”

Kylian flinched.

It was difficult to say out loud. And he still didn’t feel fully convinced of it, but the circumstances more than justified making a case. If any other individual were found in her shoes, it would have been enough to pursue.

“As it stands, the evidence points most strongly to Lady Renea,” Kylian finally said.

“...I see,” Aldous replied. His tone was sad.

“You don’t seem surprised by it,” Kylian said.

“Should I be? The evidence was difficult to contend with,” Aldous said. “I had hoped your investigation today would prove my instincts as mere paranoia.”

Kylian had been suspicious of Renea since the moment they’d emerged from the passage into the bestowal chamber.

The one sticking point he couldn’t reckon with was her motive. While Ailn had seemed suspicious of her affection, Kylian could never find any particular justification for doubt. He certainly never saw her as someone who would try to kill her brother.

But her maddened behavior at dinner had changed things. The explanation that she’d struck Ailn in an act of passion, and her holy aura had produced unintentionally lethal force, was quite plausible. And the manner in which she seemed mildly ungrounded from reality at the end of their dinner only furthered its plausibility.

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Still, Aldous hadn’t been present in the parlor. Without that context, Kylian wasn’t sure what made him more suspicious of Renea than Sophie.

“What of your feelings on Sophie?” Kylian asked.

“I was not sure what to think of her. And yet…” Aldous started then trailed. His tone was both regretful and thoughtful. “Unfortunately, I have had my reasons for a long while now to see the other sides of Lady Renea.”

Kylian’s stomach dropped. Given what he’d just witnessed in the parlor, Aldous’s statement struck Kylian. “But I will influence your thoughts no further,” Aldous said. “I simply ask, how convinced are you in the truth of your case?”

“I… am not so certain in my conclusions, that I would glibly declare her guilty,” Kylian said. “However… I would be remiss if I did not point out there is more than enough evidence to accuse her.”

Frankly, Kylian had not thought this far.

On the very first night he’d talked to Ailn, he’d assured them that none in Varant were above justice. At the time, he’d put so little stock in the possibility of the culprit being Lady Renea, that he’d believed his words to be true.

She was the exception of exceptions.

The idea of accusing the future Saintess was so unbelievable that he’d failed to seriously consider how it might be done. Even now it seemed like a distant abstraction, and yet Aldous and Ailn seemed to have the full intention of bringing this case to a close tomorrow.

But even still, he had no idea how.

“Tomorrow,” Aldous sighed, “my plan is to have the inquest progressed to an inquisition.”

“...An inquisition?” Kylian’s tone was disbelieving of what he’d just heard. “Against the future Saintess?”

The difficulty of accusing Renea eum-Creid under the empire’s laws actually had less to do with her standing within Varant, and more to do with her status as high nobility.

Nobility could not be accused lightly. An arbiter chosen by the imperial family would have to travel the long distance from the capital, during which time they could only twiddle their thumbs and wait.

Suffice to say, Kylian was not optimistic about their chances of trying her fairly. The imperial family could care less about a noble’s violent crime, especially if that noble was as exceptionally powerful as Renea, and in such an important position.

But worse than that might be the resistance from those in the Order themselves. Renea would be able to walk freely during the limbo period in which they waited for an arbiter. Given time to stew, it was likely the knights would be persuaded back to her side, whether she was guilty or not.

An inquisition, however, would mean that they’d try her not under the laws of the empire, but under the authority of the church. The Azure Knights were a holy order as much as they were a chivalric one, and carrying out an inquisition was well within their rights—so long as they could formally initiate it.

“You may not realize this, Kylian, but I trust your skills more than anyone else,” Aldous said, breaking Kylian out of his thoughts.

"My skills. Which do you refer to, Sir Aldous?" Kylian asked cautiously.

“In the execution of justice.” Aldous sat back in his chair, and tossed the parchment onto the low table between them. Kylian took it, and upon reading it immediately paled.

----------------------------------------

Out in the castle’s corridor, just a few halls down from the Great Hall, Ailn waited by torchlight. It was a cold and lonely place to wait—he’d have to get used to that in Varant—but sure enough, a silver haired woman in wool robe and leather slippers came, carrying a lantern.

“I told you I’d come check on everyone.”

“I do not want you to check on me Ailn eum-Creid,” she huffed, “and I won’t praise you for keeping your word. That’s the least a noble can be expected to do.”

“Sophie isn’t coming?”

“She doesn’t wish to speak to you.”

“I figured,” Ailn sighed. “Forget it. How’s Renea doing?”

Ennieux looked conflicted; angry, but thoughtful, her countenance like simmering water.

“I’m just asking how my sister is,” Ailn said. “Is she doing alright?”

“She’s sat on her bed quietly refusing to talk to even Sophie,” Ennieux marched up, shoving her lantern angrily in Ailn’s face. “The girl is catatonic—all because you couldn’t stop one of your filthy vices!”

Ailn raised his hands up, and averted her eyes.

“I had no way of knowing she’d care that much, okay?” Ailn said.

“Oh? Then you’re willing to stop for your sister’s sake?”

“...No.”

“Of course you’re not. I knew it. Selfish as ever,” Ennieux glared. “Is that the only reason you called me down here? To learn about how miserable you’ve made your sister?”

“I’ve got other reasons,” Ailn lightly pushed the lantern away from his face. Now Ennieux tapped her foot impatiently, arms crossed as she stared at him. “I’m just trying to understand things. So, I’ve come to ask a few… family questions.”

Ennieux tilted her head.

“About my mother.”

Ennieux froze.

“...About Celine?” she asked, finally. Rather than crossing her arms in defiance, she was now more or less hugging herself, the lantern drooping lazily from her left hand. “Why?”

“Well,” Ailn closed his eyes, and started fiddling with his wrist, “let’s just say I’ve come up on the facts of the case, but not the emotions.”

“Sorry?” Ennieux squinted through the glow of the lantern in confusion.

“What I’m trying to say is, that I more or less understand what happened, but I want to know why,” Ailn said, opening his eyes. “I want to understand, deeply, the motives of every person involved so I can be sure.”

“Ailn eum-Creid, don’t expect me to decipher whatever nonsense you’re on about. If you wish to keep speaking in riddles, then I shall return to bed.”

“I’m saying our family’s in danger, Ennieux,” Ailn threw his hands up in exasperation. “The inquest is tomorrow, and depending on how it goes, this whole family could fall apart.”

“...What?”

Ennieux started to tremble.

----------------------------------------

‘To all ye present, by the authority vested in I as high marshal of the Azure Knights, I Sir Aldous Ferme, Baronet under the auspices of the duchy eum-Creid, hereby give my sign and seal in recognition that in today’s proceedings, on the fourth day of the eleventh month in the hundred and ninth year of the imperial calendar, Sir Kylian shall act as bailiff on behalf of the Azure Knights.’

Kylian stared at the parchment in shock.

Bailiff?

If he were appointed bailiff, he would lead the knights’ case. Specifically, the onus would be on him to prove the guilt of the accused.

“Aldous,” Kylian looked at him stunned, even forgetting to use formal address, “this must be some kind of mistake.”

“It is not. I’ve made my decision, Kylian,” Aldous said.

“This is lunacy,” Kylian vainly looked for mirth in Aldous’s eyes, hoping this was a joke. “I lack the competence to perform this role. Surely there’s someone better.”

Aldous snorted. “In this castle? Go on. Give me a name. I’ll appoint that knight instead.”

Kylian racked his brain for a long time, before giving up and hanging his head. “I… don’t want to do this, Aldous.”

“I have no ability nor desire to force you. Don’t misunderstand,” Aldous said. “You will be given full control of the Azure Knights’ case. You will not be chained to whatever His Grace may believe, or what I believe.”

Aldous was steadfast in his words and gaze, pausing a moment before he continued. “I am giving you the chance to pursue the truth yourself. I trust in your ability to discern it, and to prove it meticulously at the inquest tomorrow.”

“Then… I shall take this duty upon myself,” Kylian said wearily. “I shall take my leave in preparation.”

“Remember, Kylian. The knights believe in your abilities.” Aldous nodded solemnly.

“Of course,” Kylian stood up, giving a short bow. It was with heavy steps he walked to the doorway, when he heard Aldous’s pained voice.

“I know how much I am asking of you, Sir Kylian. The difficulty and anguish of it. It is… harder for me than anyone else,” Aldous said quietly.

Kylian stood there, listening without saying anything back.

“Did you know, Kylian? We always considered her a child of miracles. At the moment of birth, we thought she was a stillborn… but by some miracle, the quiet and stillness of her body turned to breath.” Aldous recounted the story sadly, with fading warmth. “And yet…”

“... I will perform my duties with everything I have, Aldous. I promise you that,” Kylian said.

Aldous said nothing, as he left. As Kylian began his way through the keep to return to the barracks—he realized, yet again, he and Ailn had not set a meeting place—the complications of his thoughts felt as if they were swerving together, as labyrinthine and shadowed as the dimly lit halls of the keep.

Fortunately, when he’d descended the staircase nearest Aldous’s quarters, there was Ailn waiting for him, apparently done with his business.

“How’d it go with Aldous?” Ailn asked.

“We… had matters to discuss, regarding tomorrow’s inquest,” Kylian replied.

“What, specifically?”

Kylian hesitated to tell Ailn the Azure Knights’ exact intentions.

He was wracked with guilt. But he also wasn’t certain if Ailn was truly prepared to see his sister through the process of inquisition, with threat of exile, imprisonment, and even death.

It was possible he’d warn her before tomorrow’s proceedings, casting stones into the path of the carriage of justice, and giving her a chance to escape before she could even be questioned.

She’d summoned the inquest herself. Hence, if she truly was behind Ailn’s attempted murder, this was the only way she could ever be caught—within her own net.

“I’ve been… thrust into a position of consequence, that I’m not happy to take,” Kylian admitted, with some omission.

“I see,” Ailn gave him a probing glance. “Well, I trust you Kylian. You’ll do the right thing, I’m sure.”

“I hope so,” Kylian muttered.

Trust was a difficult burden to bear. But in a way, he felt relieved. He’d pursue the truth as best he could—that was all he could do.