Duke Cedric sighed. He motioned to the criers to herald the start of the proceedings.

It took almost half an hour to finish with the introductions. Every attendant rambled on about their lord, listing titles and accomplishments — some of them, the duke was sure, were entirely made up.

The wizard, Jeremy — or the Scourge as most nobles referred to him — had no attendants. However, Lord Randson’s attendant took it to himself to make the introductions.

“Here before us is Wizard Jeremy, also known as the Ram or the Scourge.”

Jeremy bowed to the people in attendance — even waving to a few familiar faces.

“He has terrorized the city with his very presence, disrupted the flow of goods by sabotaging the road to the Great Forest of Dun, summoned a man-eating snail that ravaged helpless victims just recently, corrupted our youths by taking farmhands away from their families and using them as workslaves, and debased Bountiful’s soldiers and adventurers with his unnatural healing drops.”

“I admit some of those accusations might be true,” Jeremy started. “The first three — sure. But the rest are —“

“Silence!” Lord Randson commanded. “Continue with the charges.”

“The Scourge is also linked to multiple suspected abductions and murders that occurred in the city.”

“But I don’t even live he—“ Jeremy stopped as he locked eyes with the duke.

Duke Cedric forced himself to smile. He shook his head, reminding the wizard to know his place.

This would have been easier if Jeremy was willing to reveal that he was the Blackstaff’s son — but he was adamant in preserving his anonymity.

“His most recent crime is his attack on the city,” the attendant flipped a page, most likely to draw attention. “The Scourge rode upon a flaming bat-like monstrosity and burned homes and buildings — leaving hundreds of Bountiful’s residents homeless and destitute.”

“I didn’t —“

“Hush your words, wizard,” Lord Dumont roared. “Hundreds of witnesses saw you in your flaming monstrosity as you rained fire on their homes.”

Duke Cedric raised a hand to gesture silence. He didn’t think he would need to speak so soon — but he would not have the Blackstaff’s son suffer through needless indignities.

“I can attest that the wizard did not start the fires,” he started. “So can my men. Wizard Jeremy was here in my manors — fulfilling requirements that you yourselves laid down for him. My men can attest to that if you want to question them.”

“Who’s to say he didn’t make prior preparations?” questioned Lady Ostwick. “A timed or delayed spell would certainly do the trick. I believe such spells are within the Scourge’s abilities.”

“They certainly are, milady,” Jeremy admitted, as if proud of having his talents recognized.

The duke rubbed his temple. It was going to be a long day — and Jeremy wasn’t helping.

“Did you start the fires, Wizard?” asked Lord Elderborne.

Cedric hid a smile. The Elderborne’s were an ally of the Lilac’s — they probably sided with the wizard.

“The first one? No,” Jeremy denied.” I did the one surrounding it — the bluer one, more hellfire.”

The duke wanted to head to the stand and beat some sense into the wizard — even if he was the Blackstaff’s son. He looked around the room and he saw several nobles probably thinking the same thing. The people most enraged inside the hall — were people that sided with Jeremy.

“I’m pretty sure I helped with the fire.”

“Helped with the fire?” Lord Randson raged. “You made it bigger!”

“I object to that assumption’” Jeremy raised a pointed finger. “I made the fire — better.”

The room erupted as nobles hurled insults at the wizard — some of them the ones on his side.

“Enough of this,” the duke declared. “As everyone can see, Wizard Jeremy is not used to speaking with nobility — some of you may argue that he is not used to speaking entirely, and I am inclined to believe you may be correct.”

He took a deep breath and exhaled. He didn’t know if the wizard was putting on a show, had trouble with words, or was just plain dumb. Either way, he had to salvage the situation.

“The fires were started by cultists,” he revealed. “It was the Serpents of Prophecy, the same cultists that attempted an attack on the Lilac residence a little more than a week ago.”

The news sent a wave of panic and distress among the nobles. Most of them attended the Lilac gathering, little did they know that they were being targeted.

“And where are these cultists?” sneered Lord Ilember. “Surely, you have them in custody by now?”

“They have been interrogated and dispatched.”

“By whom?” Lady Ostwick pressed. “By the wizard?”

“By me!” the duke was forced to raise his voice. “and the wizard.”

The room erupted into discussion once again — this time about secrets, lost knowledge, and the possibility of collusion.

Duke Cedric could feel the tides turning against the wizard. The evidence as well as his words painted him as a likely suspect — if not the mastermind — of the attack.

Lord Dumont stepped forward for the majority of the nobles gathered.

“The words of the duke is suspect,” he addressed the council. “The duke himself admitted to being with the Scourge at the moment of the attack — perhaps mind magic was used to cloud his judgment or even subjugate his will.”

Duke Cedric frowned. Dumont’s words seemed too well-prepared, as if he expected this outcome.

“I demand the use of a truthteller on the duke and the Scourge.”

“You dare!” Cedric roared, unable to hold himself from standing up from his seat. “You will have your duke suffer through the indignities of using a truthteller?”

“Then what about a thoughtreader, just for the Scourge?” Dumont smiled. “I happened to have one standing at the ready just outside the room — a happy coincidence.”

Duke Cedric fell for the trap. He had to admit that starting with an insult and then dropping down to merely reading the wizard made Dumont’s demand seem quite acceptable.

A few nobles echoed his demands. The duke didn’t even bother putting it to a vote, knowing Dumont had the numbers.

“Please don’t do this. I beg you.”

For the first time since the session started, the duke could hear sincerity in Jeremy’s voice.

Did he truly have secrets that he didn’t want revealed? Or maybe ties to the cult that would sully his father’s reputation? What was he hiding?

“Let the thoughtreader inside!”

The duke could only watch as his guards opened the doors, admitting a scholarly-looking mage in blue robes.

The man sneered with a malicious grin — quite apt for a man who delved into other people’s secrets.

“You may begin, Mage Clyde,” Lord Dumont prompted.

The mage in blue approached Jeremy, his steps accentuated by clicks on the floor — making them seem heavier.

Did Dumont make his wizard wear iron heels?

Duke Cedric marveled at the preparations the lord took — he even included theatrics to sway the other nobles. He wondered if he would have to reveal Jeremy’s true identity — even if it was against the wishes of the wizard.

“Please, don’t do this.” Jeremy’s plea was barely a whisper.

The thoughtreader smiled — a cruel wicked smile that promised torture and lasting suffering.

“I will try not to muddle your mind wizard,” he sneered. “But I will have your secrets.”

“Sto—“

It was too late. The mage had already placed his hand on Jeremy’s brow as the duke watched in horror. He knew of readers that would purposefully addle the minds of their subjects — this one seemed like one of them.

Despair and sorrow were plain on the Blackstaff’s son’s face. Cedric shivered at the thought of one of the kingdom’s greatest wizards taking vengeance for what the city did to his son.

The room fell silent — all eyes on Dumont’s mage.

He just stood there, standing still as a statue.

The thoughtreader began to twitch, then scream — finally falling to the floor still.

“I am sorry — truly sorry.”

Accusations and calls to arrest the Scourge flew across the room. A few attendants drew their swords — ready to pounce at the wizard at their masters’ command.

“Stop this,” Lady Amaranth’s defended the wizard. “Most of us here practice the arts — did any one of you feel the wizard use a trace of magic?”

“No, but —“

“But nothing!” Lord Elderborne countered. “No magic was used — aside from the thoughtreader’s — and everyone here could see the malice he had for the wizard.

“Then why did he fall dead?” demanded Lord Randson. “Explain that Scourge.”

Jeremy turned the duke as if pleading for help. Cedric merely nodded, urging the wizard to tell his tale.

“I was cursed as a child,” Jeremy started. “I was meant to go insane — but somehow the magic failed.”

“What do you mean by it failed?” the Duke asked. Even he was curious about the wizard’s circumstances.

“The curse left a darkness in my soul,” the wizard explained. “The rage and insanity are still there — growing every single day. I just manage to live with it and not act upon their urges.”

“So the thoughtreader died because he caught a glimpse of your soul?” Lady Amaranth asked aghast. “How could you bear it?”

“With difficulty, milady,” Jeremy answered. “And I have a butler — that certainly helps.”

The duke mused. Jeremy’s words explained some of the wizard’s strange behavior and actions — as well as his seeming disconnect from normalcy. Did his father suffer the same fate? Was it a curse that befell every member of the Elswind family?

“So this curse also brings about the aura of death that scares the peasants?” Lord Elderbourne asked. “I admit — I can even feel it through my protections.”

“No, milord,” Jeremy answered. “That’s just me. I keep the aura up constantly for personal reasons.”

The duke stood up from his seat, afraid of what more the Blackstaff’s son would say that might implicate himself.

“This council will take a short break. We will return to questioning the wizard after 30 minutes.”

***

Lord Randson fumed.

Why was the duke protecting the Scourge?

He knew the wizard had allies — notably the Lilac house. But why were the other nobles getting behind him?

It was good that Dumont’s faction wanted an end to the Scourge. They weren’t exactly allies — but their goals aligned against the city-burning wizard.

The duke was probably hiding something. He would rally the other nobles — conventions be damned — and ask for a truthteller to judge the duke’s words.

There was no escape for the Scourge. He would make him pay for the loss of his wealth and his influence.

Minutes flew by and the call for the commencement of the council soon arrived.

Lord Randson entered the chamber ready to deal with the Scourge and make him pay for his crimes — only to find a change in the mood of the room.

The duke was smiling as if he had already won — and his allies in attacking the Scourge seemed subdued.

What was happening?

Lord Randson’s eyes were drawn to the smiling duke, his fingers tapping on his oaken table.

On the table was a pile of books — books he thought were lost in the fires.

The duke had his ledgers.