By the early morning, the knights had gathered within the Great Hall, sat upon benches which had been brought in for the inquest. At the back of the Great Hall sat Lady Renea, upon the throne, her appearance stately and her visage frigid.
It was a striking change from her usual overly conspicuous warmth. She kept a fierce glare, holding her left hand over right tensely even as she rested both in her lap. She needed a footstool to properly reach the throne’s height, but nonetheless she kept her legs stockstill.
Meanwhile, the knights all seemed nervous, though Ailn couldn’t quite get a read on what they were worried about. Maybe they just didn’t want to be accosted for doing a poor job of guarding the castle, but he suspected it had something to do with whatever Kylian and Aldous had discussed last night.
Ennieux was not in attendance.
“Well, at least she’s consistent,” Ailn muttered. He didn’t particularly care about having her moral support, but in the worst case scenario her testimony might be needed to give weight to some of his claims.
Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.
At any rate, Ennieux’s absence ended up highlighting Ailn’s awkward presence on the dais as a member of the family. He was up there with Renea and Sophie, but his wood chair was situated at the far corner of the platform.
So he was sort of right there for everyone to look at. He wasn’t one to suffer from stage fright, but it was definitely uncomfortable. And after a few minutes of sitting in conspicuous isolation, it hit him that this was the first time since he’d come to this world that he felt truly alone.
The thought was sobering, to say the least.
The Great Hall suddenly went silent, pulling him from his thoughts. Judging by the parchment now in her hands, it seemed Renea was about to give her opening remarks.
She took a deep breath.
“Three nights prior, this castle was attacked,” Renea said. “Varant the holy city was sullied by the presence of shadow beasts, and a member of the noble eum-Creid family was nearly killed. This is unacceptable.”
Her voice was icy, and the knights were caught off guard.
It was clear that her mood was poor from the start, but given her warmth just yesterday, on her arrival, they hadn’t expected the inquest to start on such an accusatory note.
“Three items call for attention. The first is the question of how shadow beasts were able to break through the holy barrier, and enter the castle. As it is my role to maintain the barrier… I am of course, not without blame,” Renea said. “But our most serious failure is that we don’t even understand how it happened. The knights have failed to pinpoint where they even entered the castle.”
She swept a cold gaze over the Great Hall.
But as she continued her opening remarks, her voice took on a strangely monotone quality. Just moments ago she seemed like she was on a warpath. Now, it felt as if she didn’t wish to be here at all.
“This, of course,” she sighed, “ties heavily with the next item of the inquest. Though it pains me to say it, we must properly examine the possibility of internal sabotage.”
Renea looked around the Great Hall, trying to read if she had provoked any of the knights to offense.
Though none of the knights looked happy, they didn’t seem to take any particular umbrage. From the beginning, some form of sabotage had been suspected. Sensing no disgruntlement, she continued speaking.
“I bring this up with the utmost care because I don’t wish to insult the loyalty of the Order of the Azure Knights, but I believe not even they can be fully exempt from scrutiny. Which brings us to the final item…”
She stopped mid-speech, staring at her parchment. She seemed to blank out for a moment. Then, closing her eyes, and taking in a ragged breath, she let out a shuddering sigh before speaking again.
“The death of my brother.”
Murmurs started to spread through the Great Hall, not to mention confused looks. Her brother was right there.
Renea glanced at her brother and flinched.
“... I apologize. I meant the attempted murder of my brother.” Though she was still looking in Ailn’s direction, her gaze seemed distant.
She turned back to the knights, now glaring.
“The knights have continually refused to properly investigate. Someone killed… tried to kill my brother, and yet the Azure Knights simply seem to not care.” Her voice was starting to shake. “Have you forgotten your oath to the eum-Creid family? Do you think because he lived like a commoner he deserved less respect?”
This, more than even the accusation of sabotage, seemed to evoke the knights’ discontent—especially since her brother was sitting right there, quite alive.
The way her speech would stumble, it almost seemed like she’d forgotten this. That was too bizarre to believe, but still—when it came to her brother, and the attack upon his person, she seemed to swiftly lose her bearings.
Even now, her voice was getting louder and louder.
“It should never have come to this! If you had treated him like a eum-Creid from the start—which he is, no matter how insolently you act toward him—then! My brother wouldn’t…!” Renea’s voice cracked. “It’s because all of you treated him like —!”
Then she went silent once again, trembling. And her emotions seemed to leave even more quickly than they came, as her gaze turned weary, and her voice listless.
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“Forget it. It’s… pointless to dwell,” she said. “What matters is that I’m certain there was a premeditated attempt on the life of my brother. The matter will be given proper inquiry, as befits the name eum-Creid.”
Aldous stood up. He’d been sitting silently near the front of the Great Hall while Renea gave her opening remarks. If anyone would speak up for the knights to voice their misgivings, it would be him.
Surprisingly, Aldous did not voice dissent.
“The Order of the Azure Knights agrees with your judgment, Lady Renea,” Aldous responded. “We have reason to believe that a foul hand was involved.”
Renea looked at Aldous. Her expression was muted, but she stared wordlessly for a long time, and it was clear she had expected more pushback.
“... Very well, then,” Renea said. “Let’s begin with testimony from the gatekeepers.”
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What followed was a rather cyclical debate between the gatekeepers. Clearly someone had messed up, they argued, or how else would the shadow beasts have entered the castle?
Accusations flew about the room without catching a single admission of fault, much less a confession of guilt.
The debate did little but convince everyone present that all the gatekeepers must be incompetent.
“Let’s move the discussion forward,” Aldous said through gritted teeth. It was an embarrassing display by the knights, to say the least. “Wagging tongues and pointing fingers without concrete evidence do little to bring clarity to the issue. Perhaps interrogation of an extraordinary nature is in order.”
The gatekeepers trembled in their seats, but the actual arbiter of the meeting didn’t acknowledge the comment. Instead, she seemed to be staring blankly ahead.
“Lady Renea?”
“Huh?” she turned toward Aldous. “Of course. The state of our gate management is abominable. And the quickness of each gatekeeper to castigate their colleagues does little to inspire confidence.”
She breathed deeply, clearly trying to bring her focus to the fore.
“What say you, Aldous? Is it simply a matter of their capability, or is their loyalty in question as well?”
“Though their testimony has brought me great alarm, and convinced all here that the state of security within the castle must be earnestly and painstakingly re-evaluated,” Aldous growled, glaring at the gatekeepers, “I do not believe any among them are treacherous.”
“And your reasoning as for why?” Renea asked.
“Enough men are stationed at each gate and throughout the bailey, that there’s simply no way shadow beasts could have entered through, whether by force or guile,” Aldous said.
“Then how, Aldous?” Renea’s voice was taking on an edge of irritation. “Did they appear from thin air?”
“Lady Renea, the most probable explanation is that the castle has secret entrances that not even the Azure Knights are aware of,” Aldous said. “In such a scenario, there would be many opportunities for treachery—whether by knight, or servant.”
“... Are you joking right now, Aldous? A secret passage?” Renea could hardly hide the scorn in her voice. “Do you have a shred of evidence?”
“I do not currently have proof of a hidden passage… to the outside of the castle,” Aldous said honestly.
Renea stared at him in disbelief.
“Then why are you wasting our time?” she asked.
“Lady Renea, you are aware where your brother was found unconscious, correct?” Aldous maintained a steady gaze.
“...Of course I know that.” Her voice had a slight quiver, and she was clearly fighting to keep it as steady as possible. “He was found in the courtyard at the north end of the castle.”
“Over the last two days, Lady Renea, a hidden passage was discovered that leads from that very courtyard to the inner keep,” Aldous continued. “A passage that has, shamefully, completely escaped the notice of the Azure Knights till now. Though I’m certain you’re aware of it, Lady Renea.”
The room had already been silent, but now the tension was palpable. Though the inquest had started with agitation on all sides, the dullness of rote procedure had lulled the knights into a false sense of complacency.
Apparently the effect had been much the same on Renea.
“You discovered a passage?” She seemed to be choking on her words.
“That’s correct, Lady Renea. While it doesn’t lead to the outside of the castle, the nature of the passage is highly suggestive,” Aldous sighed, not seeming to enjoy what he had to do. “It was a passage that led from the courtyard to the bestowal chamber.”
By this point, Renea was clutching the parchment so tightly it was stretching. The fibers straining, it looked to tear at any moment.
“If—if it doesn’t lead outside, then it has nothing to do with shadow beasts,” Renea said. “What of it, Aldous?”
“That is correct, Lady Renea. We believe instead that it’s highly pertinent to the attempted murder of your brother.”
“What…?”
The future Saintess didn’t just look nervous. She looked afraid, and that filled the knights who’d served her for seven long years with dread. Already stunned by the revelation of the hidden passage, they had little time to process the implications. Aldous was leading the discussion in a dangerous direction. His reasoning was unclear, but there was little to veil the accusatory nature of his words.
None in the room could believe what was happening. Yet Aldous, perhaps the most respected man in the entire duchy, was not one to speak rashly, nor make a judgment ill-considered. He stood tall, his gaze solemn if regretful.
“Sir Kylian, step forward,” Aldous said. “From henceforth, as acting bailiff, you represent the Azure Knights.”
“A bailiff?!” Renea nearly tripped over her own footstool in her haste to stand up. “W-what possible use is there for a bailiff in an inquest?!”
‘Aldous, what are you thinking?!”
‘This is nigh treason!”
‘These accusations are completely nonsensical! Our Lady was in the midst of her ceremony!’
The Great Hall broke out into a roar, but Kylian paid it no mind as he stood up and stepped forward. A parchment in his own hand showed the formal proof of his temporary appointment, and a scroll case attached to his belt suggested there were more leaves of parchment still to be shown.
Kylian seemed content to simply wait for the din to die down as he collected his thoughts, but Aldous was not so patient.
The white glow of holy aura surrounded Aldous, its manifestation alone enough to emit a humming, sizzling resonance. So bright was it, that the Great Hall even seemed to dim at its most distant corners.
And all at once it dispersed, swelling and thinning for just a moment, before it twisted and seemed to whip back into his body. It was like a gavel, the crack in the air silencing the knights with its might, the echo of his aura asserting his authority.
No one dared to reply. It had been a long time since Aldous’s back had looked so wide.
He’d always exhibited such dignity on the battlefield, and as a baronet and true vassal, the adornment of the silver wolf of the eum-Creid’s family crest upon his cloak had always magnified that presence.
Now, that same crest seemed to lend him legitimacy as the family’s trusted adjudicator—even if it meant casting judgment on those members of the family itself that failed to live up to the eum-Creid values.
Aldous had passed that legitimacy to Kylian by making him bailiff. Everything was now in his hands, including the sword of justice.
All attention turned now to him, it was Renea who finally broke the quiet.
“Sir Kylian,” she said weakly, “please explain to me what’s going on.”