Kogin stared up at his ceiling. He couldn’t remember the last time he had stayed up this late. “The morning dawn once again chases away the bliss of starlight.”

A stretch of the toes, then Chickadee rolled into Kogin. He gave the poet’s bare shoulder a weak bite before making himself comfortable.

“Forgive me, Walter, for making the best of what little time we have left.” Kogin gently coaxed Chickadee onto his back and pinned down his wrists. “Unless there was a project that needed to be finished?”

“Nope,” chirped Chickadee with a wide grin. A timely knock on the door instantly ruined his mood. “... Maybe.”

Kogin let out a groan as he sat up. “We should ignore them.”

It couldn’t be helped. Chickadee rolled onto his stomach and buried his face into the pillow. “... Back hurts.”

An embarrassed Kogin’s cheeks shifted several shades of red. “S-sorry… I’ll send them away.” He got out of bed and did an awkward hop from one foot to the other as he struggled to get his pants on. “A moment!” Knocking again wasn’t going to make him get to the door any faster.

Waiting for him was a disappointed Udell. He greeted Kogin with a set of pursed lips and a judgemental glare.

“I’m a civilian,” spat an equally annoyed Kogin. He didn’t have to show any sort of courtesy to this man in his own home.

“Are his preparations complete?” Asked Udell, who wanted to get the information he needed and be done with this already.

Kogin placed a hand against his hip. “We-”

“Payment!” Called out Chickadee as he abruptly sat up. He hastened to wrap a blanket around him so he could have some form of modesty.

Udell retrieved a small, wax-sealed letter from his jacket. He held it up high, just outside of a hopping Chickadee’s reach. “Intel first, Gem Bird.”

Not wanting an incident, Kogin was the one who grabbed the envelope. “We know Miss Zaniyah’s location. There is no word on the other captives.”

“Blue has a good nose,” replied Udell. “A good hunting dog always finds its target.”

There happened to be a sly bit of trickery when it came to Zaniyah’s messages. Laurent hadn’t thought to pay much heed to when Zaniyah described the weather. He didn’t know that Chickadee happened to have a giant owl who could silently fly right up to Zaniyah’s window, which is exactly what Chickadee and Kogin had done the night before.

They were able to mark the window frame with red paint. This was the final step in their planned preparations. Today, during the King’s Court gathering, they would be breaching the palace and making their rescue attempt. The guard’s focus would be on protecting the court, allowing them to make an aerial entrance and escape.

“An hour,” said Udell as he put his hand on his hip. “I will be escorting Prince Duxton to the palace within the hour. Operation will begin twenty minutes after we’ve entered the palace doors. We’ll be in a position to cause a distraction by then.”

Kogin rested his palm on the edge of the door, aiming to close it as soon as possible. “We’ll be prepared… Bye-bye, now.”

He put on a fake grin as Udell frowned back. Kogin maintained the grin as he shut the door and turned around. Chickadee had a vacant expression on his face. The gears were whirling so quickly that his brain was unable to process anything else.

“Would you like me to heat up some water so you can wash off before you go?” Kogin stepped into the kitchen. He got on his knees and began to dig underneath the sink for a washbasin and pitcher.

Chickadee blinked as he regained his focus on the world around him. “... Must change plan,” he muttered. He fetched his letter and began to type furiously into it.

Not that it mattered to Kogin one way or another if Chickadee changed the plan. He knew that he wouldn’t do anything that would put him or his friends at risk. His head peaked above the kitchen island.

“Want me to get Sir Tardivel?”

Chickadee furiously shook his head back and forth. His cheeks bloomed with joy as his letter buzzed. “They are unnecessary.” There were better allies with more useful skill sets. Ones that wouldn’t mind joining him for a little bit of insanity.

Two floors down, Duxton was putting the finishing touches on his hair. Side part. Smooth on the right, fluffy yet stylized on the left. He was almost feeling 100% like himself again. If only he didn’t have to worry about having his head put on a spike. Not in a metaphorical way, but in a literal one.

He watched Udell’s reflection walk into the apartment. “Thank you for your timeliness.”

“Odd will return soon with the documents,” said Udell as he closed the door behind him.

“Redirect him to that cafe on Fifth Street,” ordered Duxton as he straightened his cravat. “I want a full stomach before I go lie down on the chopping block.”

He had no way of knowing that the wait to get inside the palace would be ridiculous. The usual King’s Court members were already inside, and they had been joined by several barons and baronesses from nearby Violet provinces. Invitations had been sent out to any noble who could come to the capital within a week’s notice.

Among the crowd was a mass of journalists who failed to get properly vetted in time to join the media corner of the King’s Court. They hounded any well-dressed person who came to the bridge leading into the palace, looking for any hint as to what the meeting was about today. Even Paladin Nicolas had made an appearance, and he hadn’t had a hair inside since before Wulfric died.

The King’s Court itself was shaped like a massive “U,” with the King’s seat elevated and hidden behind a paper screen. Only King Howell’s backlit silhouette could be seen. A hunched figure mainly obscured by an elaborately decorated chair. This installation was a long-standing tradition, first put in by a king three hundred years ago so that he could indulge his love for naps.

Neryx currently used it as a way to park Howell’s body somewhere while he went and did other business. For security reasons, the king was always first and last to arrive to court. If something entertaining happened to be scheduled that day, he preferred to sit in the audience rather than someplace he couldn’t see anything. Today he was attending as both Howell and Howell’s personal physician, Doctor Lavender.

There was a hush that slowly swept through the room as the last member of the court entered. The king showed first, while the main speaker appeared after everyone else had been seated. It was not out of respect that people silenced themselves in front of Laurent, but eerie curiosity towards the pair that flanked him.

His right side was Viokern, the possible future king. Taking Howell’s poor health into consideration, it was possible that Viokern was up to be the sixth youngest crowned king of Lustro. An easy puppet to be stringed up and left to dry while others reap the benefits of his crown.

On the other hand, specifically, Laurent’s left, was Veximarl Tuvaylton Fogbloom. The self-proclaimed son of Tria and proven grandson of King Cadogan. Necromancer and master of tainted beasts. Veximarl’s height combined with his black clothing and cold expression would later have him described by one reporter as, “A shadow of death that looms over the heart of the Black Palace.”

The three took their seats at the table which acted as the head of the King’s Court. Positioned underneath Howell’s seat. It faced the massive stained glass window at the back of the room, which was replaced and revealed at each new king or queen’s coronation. Howell had chosen to honor his heritage, thus it heavily portrayed images associated with the Aconite family. Wolf’s bane flowers and the winter aconite buttercups that represented the royal branch of the family.

Any silence that prevailed while the final trio walked in turned into a rush of whispers. Laurent and Veximarl took their time to unload papers from their briefcases onto the table, while Viokern did his best to not feel overwhelmed. The crowd only hushed themselves again once Laurent raised a hand.

“We will be allowing Prince Duxton ten minutes before we begin.”

Elbellziara raised a closed fan. She was located in a seat closest to the trio, as was her right as both a duchess and a daughter of the King. “Who will be acting as overseer for today’s meeting?”

Laurent politely stood and placed a hand to his chest. “I will be presiding over-”

“I object,” interrupted Elbellziara. “A man, no, a leader of the church has no right to preside over a meeting of today’s importance.”

“I serve as the king’s left hand. This is both a family and political matter and there is no witness or authority who has more experience or knowledge in this matter.” Laurent sat down and pursed his lips for a moment. “Regardless of who I am involved with, I vow to be unbiased.”

“I do not believe your intentions to be unbiased.” Elbellziara raised her fan again. This time, a resounding echo of agreement came from her barons and baronesses. She raised her voice so that she could be heard over them. “I call for the King’s Right Hand to preside over this meeting!”

Of all the times to act out… Laurent’s eyes flicked around the room. Elbellziara had stacked the guest seats with her own people. He should’ve paid more attention when he received word that she had sent out a mass of invitations past Eatha’s feast day. She had come prepared to defend Duxton’s crown for the sake of Viokern not receiving it.

“There is no one that fills that position,” replied Laurent.

“And why is that?” Asked Elbellziara in a whimsical tone.

Because Wulfric had Laurent murder the last right hand so that he himself could take the position. The position had been left empty since Wulfric’s death four years ago. Laurent’s sudden promotion to left hand had drawn some attention, but he had quickly proven himself capable of single-handedly running the Court. This was the first time anyone had bothered to complain about it.

Howell’s throne let out an audible creak as he adjusted himself. “I feel a great deal of pain,” he groaned. “... There was and is no man in this world who is capable of replacing my eldest son’s role.”

Elbeliziara’s fan opened with a flick of her wrist. She used it to hide her lips as she gritted her jaw. Having Howell side with Laurent was only somewhat surprising. Patterfall had made it clear that the king was likely suffering from severe dementia. That gap had been filled by Laurent, who was by all means acting as though he were the King of Lustro.

If only Patterfall hadn’t abandoned her. He hadn’t bothered to show, and any messenger he had sent was likely delayed by that mess outside. She needed him here to testify about her father’s health. Proving Howell’s illness in front of all of these witnesses would immediately send Laurent’s cards crashing to the ground. Yet she, a daughter who neglected to meet her father face to face for four years, had no authority to question his treatment now.

“And what of Wulfric’s own son?” Queried Elbellziara.

A desperate plea from a desperate woman. Laurent shook his head with disappointment. Elbelliziara was a champion of charisma but this would be his win. “There was no test of parentage done on Prince Wulfric before his death. We only have evidence that proves that Prince Duxton is King Howell’s grandchild. His claim to the throne is as strong as either of your son’s.”

Elbellziara scoffed. “Wulfric had more than one son, Laurent. Alton. He should’ve been brought back the moment Wulfric died. If this matter is about family or questioning Duxton’s claim to the throne, then the law states that Alton should have received an invitation. Let him preside over this affair. He’d at least be unbiased as you have been.”

“Unfortunately, there has not been contact with Prince Alton since his e-”

“Bullshit!” Cried out Nicolas. He had been leaning back in his chair with his feet on the table in front of him. Now he was repositioning himself, stamping one of his armored boots into the wooden floor before he leaned forward in his seat. “I bear evidence that Prince Alton is currently imprisoned in the upper levels of the palace! Bring him here and have him sit in your place.”

Laurent continued to purse his lips as murmurs swept through the chambers. Elbellziara and Nicolas had not coordinated this attack, nor did they have similar goals, but both their blades were pointed his way. This argument could last hours, giving Duxton plenty of time to make his eventual appearance. Every action they took was directly against Laurent’s interests.

“If I may.” Veximarl spoke up as he raised his hand. He then stood when Laurent signaled him. “Lord Alton, along with Paladin Nicolas’ daughter, were caught attempting to steal a relic from the palace. We have not had the time to put together enough evidence to hold a proper trial for their wrong-doings, as we believed that today’s affairs should hold priority.”

“And a suspected criminal cannot actively serve as a member of the government,” added Viokern. He then smiled to himself, feeling happy that he was able to contribute.

Elbellziara closed her fan by slapping it against her palm. “And what is the importance of this relic?”

Veximarl’s voice continued to ring clearly through the room. “A piece of the ancient god Bellia, entrusted to the royal family by the sirens of Lyrhea. It had been under the protection of Alton’s mother. He has yet to reveal his intentions for the theft, but we believe that his mother is the reason.”

Another scoff escaped Elbellziara’s lips. “We all know that today’s little meeting is a farce. This is all a trial for Duxton. You lot plan to take his crown. Are you telling me that that is more important than hosting a trial for someone who broke into the palace with the goal of thievery?”

“With all due respect, Duchess Elbellziara,” replied Veximarl. “We are at war.”

“Precisely!” Nicolas’ voice hollered louder than anyone else’s. “We don’t have time for this.”

Veximarl remained firm. “War is the reason why we must make time. Today is a turning point for our nation. Today is a day of severe change, and tomorrow is the day we make our stand in the war.”

“Then let’s stop beating around the bush.” She pointed her fan at her son, Viokern. “I will cease my objections if Lord Viokern is the one to lead today’s proceedings.”

Veximarl immediately replied. “Again, with all due respect, Duchess Elbellziara, Viokern has not the experienced to-”

“Lord Fogbloom,” spat Elbellziara with a sharp tongue. “If you believe that a fourteen-year-old boy is a wiser choice than someone who was raised with leadership in mind, someone who is a graduate of Braytons, then let my son speak for himself. Let him make your argument in his own words.”

And just like that, she slipped. Laurent knew Elbellziara well enough. He knew every step to this waltz and even with her missteps, she eventually bowed in a spot that was beneficial to him. Viokern was his student and he had spent a year preparing for this day.

“I hold no objections to the Duchess’ request,” said Laurent. He gestured for Veximarl to sit down. “Lord Viokern, if you will.”

Viokern stood up. “Members of the Court, Duchess Elbellziara, barons and baronesses, members of the military, and esteemed journalists… I humbly thank you all for your presence. I propose that we abolish Prince Duxton’s titles and inheritance and nominate myself as crown prince.

Duxton has every right to represent himself during this trial. I am certain that he has his own reasons for being delayed. Rather than tarnish his reputation with theories or false allegations, I wish to discuss the future. I wish to propose the changes I wish to make that will change the landscape of Lustro and make it a utopia for each of its citizens.”

He pulled out a notebook from his breast pocket and began his presentation. Duxton was predictably late, and it had given them an opening. Viokern’s proposed legislation was nearly identical to what Duxton had prepared himself. All the Court would see is a fool who was incapable of coming up with something original. Viokern would forever be known for being the one to bring such radical ideas to light.

“Our laws best benefit the richest ten percent of men and not a single female citizen,” continued Viokern. “How often do we hear stories of noble families collapsing due to lack of male heirs? How many stories do we need to have of women being thrown out on the street simply because they lack education and income? We are forsaking fifty percent of our potential by stifling women with the idea that their only worth is home management and childbirth.

There is nothing but profit to be had by granting everyone equal rights, regardless of gender or heritage. We will double our workforce. We will double our scientists and engineers. We give households the opportunity to double their income and escape the confines of poverty. This is just one of many changes that need to occur if our nation is to survive.”

Viokern flipped the page and realized that it was asking him to open the floor to questions. “Would anyone like to…” His voice trailed off as the doors loudly clanged open. “Greetings, cousin,” he called out with annoyance.

“Greetings!” Called back Duxton. He had Udell by his side, who he signaled to hang back while he carried on. Behind them was a plethora of palace workers who were carrying boxes in their hands.

The workers began their task of passing out books to every person present. Nobles, journalists, even the ones at the front table. Duxton looked around for a moment before taking a seat next to Veximarl. He didn’t say anything. A smug look of confidence coated his face.

“You’re late,” muttered Veximarl.

“I can’t make a proper entrance if I show up on time,” replied a merry Duxton.

Viokern glared at Duxton. “I am granting a five-minute recess before we continue.” He sat down in his seat and immediately whispered, “Thank you,” as someone placed a book in front of him.

This casual distraction wasn’t going to stop the trial. Laurent already knew the contents of the book. He left his copy unopened. “We are holding a trial today to remove your titles.”

“I’m aware,” replied Duxton as he kicked his feet up on the table.

“Then please use this time to…” Laurent’s voice trailed off as the voices within the room turned from a soft muttering to a dull roar.

First were the journalists. A half dozen of them had rushed for the exit, only to find themselves blocked by Udell. He had used his chains to tie together the handles. Those who had run to the opposite exit were crying out that it had been locked from the outside. One of Elbelliziara’s baronesses stood from her chair, rushed a member of the Court, and punched him across the jaw. After the first punch was issued, a chair was thrown across the room, and soon everyone was shouting or swinging.

“There will be order within this court!” Laurent cried out.

It was as if those texts contained a spell of madness. While some were hiding beneath tables, others were turning red in the face from screaming at each other. Nicolas rushed to break up the most severe of fights. The only calm one was Elbellziara. She was the very image of a polite noblewoman. Silent and still, with a faint smile on her lips as she read the book in her lap.

Viokern was visibly ill. “What is this?” He looked up at Laurent, desperate for guidance.

Laurent picked up the book and flipped past the first pages. Some of it was the same as the draft he had seen, but the finalized edition was double the length. The text contained records going back past the Southern war. Each page, and sometimes several, were dedicated to individuals of the King’s Court and upper members of the nobility. Even Wulfric wasn’t spared. Their crimes would be brought to light.

The war was started by an insane cult named the Order of Alcea. Politicians took advantage of the war to give themselves wealth and power. Mart’s Mercy was a group of assassins. Laurent had an active hand in Prince Cornelius’ murder as well as several other politicians.

King Howell was dead. He had been dead. There was no king. Lustro was a lawless land ruled by criminals and madmen. who were actively seeking to prolong the war so they could “create a new god.” This novel was a collection of conspiracy theories that were somehow backed with legitimate evidence.

“There isn’t a reason to rush outside!” Duxton cried out. “I sent copies of this book to every major news center in every region! There isn’t a corner of Lustro where any of you bastards can hide!” He then stood up and outstretched his arms. “Let me be the one to call for order in this court!

I call for a new motion! The King’s Court will be disbanded and charged for their crimes! Let the Dukes of Lustro select the new king! Whether his blood be one of the first families, commoner, or even a woman! We will build a new court with citizens of every background from every region!”

Viokern slammed his palm into the table. “Arrest this man!” He pointed at Duxton.

“Calm down, you idiot,” spat back Duxton. “If you had ever learned to use your brain, you wouldn’t have landed yourself in this mess.”

“Grandfather isn’t dead!” Cried back Viokern.

Duxton stifled a laugh. “Then go upstairs. Tell Neryx that he has no right to be in grandfather’s body and ask if he can bring that husk back to life.”

Laurent’s eye twitched. Duxton shouldn’t know that name. He then felt a slow frustration build up inside of him. Giving the letters back to Alton and Zaniyah was a terrible idea. They must have slipped in some code that Laurent didn’t understand.

He had to focus on the now and worry about cleaning this up later. “Mages! I authorize the use of magic! Get the doors open and summon the guards!” Laurent ignored Viokern as the teenager ran upstairs to check on Howell.

The inner guards of the King’s Court were traditionally members of lower-ranking noble families of the Violet Region. They had some sword training but were never expected to stop a fight. Among them, there were three mages, yet not a single one moved at Laurent’s command. Not even the two members of Court who were elementalists moved a muscle. All of them had become frozen from fear, with the oldest among them looking around with complete bewilderment.

Laurent was slowly catching on. Someone, another elementalist, had silenced their connection with Eishur. They could no longer hear the whispers of the elements. Not any of the servants or journalists, as he knew all of them. His gaze began to flicker between Nicolas and Elbellziara.

“This man is dead!” Nicolas held up Doctor Lavender’s corpse. “Who did this?! Fess up!”

Nicolas was fond of the direct approach. This felt underhanded. Duchess Elbellziara’s attention had gone to Viokern. Her son’s silhouette could be seen making an attempt to shake Howell awake. Laurent narrowed his gaze. She was capable of putting this together.

“El!” Cried out Laurent. She must have snuck in a greater mage from Grand Temple under the guise of a baron or baroness and may have caught word of Neryx’s existence at some point.

“It wasn’t me,” she calmly called back with mild amusement.

This was all very amusing, but Duxton had a problem. All the noise was likely to cause panic, and it wouldn’t be long until someone or many someones broke their way in. “Udell! Time to-”

He tensed up as bells started to ring out through the palace. Duxton quickly realized that it was not only the palace but every church and cathedral bell throughout the whole of Fogbloom had begun to cry out in unison. Something beyond his expectations had happened.

Veximarl knocked over his chair. His hand was firmly clasped over his mouth. “I need to get past, Duxton.”

Duxton remained seated. Veximarl had shifted back to his usual mess of a self and Laurent had gone still and pale… Something was amiss. “I have soldiers waiting outside those doors. The soldiers don’t like you very much.” Because Veximarl had gotten in their way during their investigation of the Daughters of Iath.

“Then order them to let me out!” Veximarl cried.

His voice was nearly drowned out by the panic that had regained momentum. A massive shadow was now idling next to the stained glass window. The glass began to glow red hot as it bent forward and back, almost as if it were breathing.

It bubbled inward, before peeling open and splashing along the stone walls. At the same moment, vines burst in through the bottom of the opening while the shadow rocketed inside. Cacophony held the Heart of Eishur in its talons and used its momentum to fling it at Duxton. The prince deftly caught it by the scabbard before ducking below the table.

Cacophony continued ahead, bursting into a cloud of ash centered at the vertical gap between the table and King Howell’s paper screen. As the shadow of dust began to dissipate, a single figure was standing proudly on the table. Chickadee was wearing colorful robes that Kogin had “borrowed” from his theater’s costuming department. Scarves and sashes had been tied onto him with reckless abandon.

“We agreed that you would come alone!” Duxton cried out as he stood up and whipped the sword free. Vines were a clear sign of Gwyn, who had made a platform for herself and Fairy to stand on. They remained outside the chambers while Chickadee had been the one to go in.

Chickadee spun around. “Delegating tasks!” He called back as he gave the prince a proud thumbs up.

“Gwyn!” Veximarl called out. “I need you to find Sybil!”

“That’s why I’m here!” Gwyn was in the process of growing vines around her and Fairy’s waists and shoulders. “Paladin Nicolas!”

Nicolas didn’t even know where to start with this entire mess. “... Eh?” He dropped Lavender’s dead body and pointed to himself, mildly confused.

Gwyn extended her hand. “Come on!”

He didn’t have to be told twice. Nicolas stood on a table and made lunging steps across them as he ascended to Gwyn’s location. As he reached out his arm, he let out a surprised yelp as hand, arm, then waist was enveloped in vines. The trio then ascended upward, with the vines that had formed the platform snapping up and completely sealing off the window.

“I dislike others making changes to my plans,” grumbled Duxton. He repositioned himself to the center floor, keeping the table between himself and Laurent.

Laurent regained his composure as he rose from his seat. He calmly moved the edge of his robe aside with a graceful brush of the hand and rested his fingertips on the hilt of Viper’s blood iron sword. His gaze then sharpened on Duxton.

“How would you like to proceed?”

Duxton pointed his blade at Laurent. “Order them to surrender themselves. I seek a peaceful transfer of power.”

“Your approach has been far from peaceful. This is a sealed room,” replied Laurent. “One filled with individuals you have made dire accusations against.”

“I’m quite aware that I’m outnumbered,” added Duxton with half a grin.

“Indeed,” said Laurent. He withdrew his sword and held it by his side. “Which is why I will ask you again. How do you wish to proceed?”

Duxton smiled. The weight that had been breaking his shoulders for many years was now lifting away. “You made some ill assumptions. I have already done all the work. I have spent years preparing for this moment. The Dukes will rule in my favor. I will be king.”

“You will find that no one has loyalty to you. Your efforts today have been nothing but a waste.” Laurent sought out traces of malice in Duxton’s form. Duxton was eerily calm. His defensive stance lacked weakness and that sword he held

“Two words,” replied Duxton. “I can expose the flaws in your logic with two small words.”

Laurent gestured for him to continue. “Then, by all means, say them.”

This was a good day. It hardly mattered what the outcome of it would be, not as long as he had the opportunity to prove to Laurent that he had been played as a fool. Duxton adjusted the blade. He ran a set of fingers against the flat of it as he softly whispered.

“... Good morning.”