Joran huffed, his large belly wiggling as he did so. “Do you mean spilling lies against the rightful ruler of Knight’s Crossing?”

“I mean to decide on the best course of action,” Hagen retorted. “No one here is a child, and we’re all already aware of the situation at Knight’s Crossing.”

“What is there to consider? A bunch of commoners is in open rebellion against their lords. Now their leaders are right here with us, armed with stolen weapons on top of that. A danger to us all.”

“We’re in a room full of my guards as well as various Paladins and a not insignificant number of Warlocks. I would hardly consider two Paladins with a couple of daggers any danger.”

Joran pursed his lips and looked ready to continue arguing when Edgarth tapped him on the arm. The old man then stepped forward, his cane tapping against the glossy floor. “Regardless of their actual danger, my lord must agree that it doesn’t set a good image.”

“The only image that it sets is that I have nothing to fear.” Hagen regretted his words as soon as they came out for sounding too arrogant. He needed a unifying speech to rally his forces under his banner. Being too confrontational would only force them apart, no doubt Edgarth’s and Joran’s goal. The talks hadn’t even formally begun and already those two were sowing discord

“My lord may think he has not to fear, but what about the rest of us?” Edgarth asked, capitalizing on Hagen’s mistake. “We’ve all heard of other such revolutionaries who have tried to upend the natural order, achieving nothing but pain and destruction.”

Edgarth looked around the room as he raised his voice so that everyone would hear. “Individuals such as Anysa of Harrenport, the Prince of Pigs, or even Ludwig who called for the extinction of the noble class, claiming that the way forward was for the commoners to govern themselves in some sort of utopic gestalt. No, my friends, when you empty a bunch of chamberpots together, you gain nothing but a mountain of shit.

“Now, like many others throughout history, these lowborn upstarts aim to depose a noble ruler, going against the will of the heavens. Gathered here are those who follow Alella, Rothar, and so many other deities. But it's one thing we can all agree is that its the will of a higher power for us to rule over the ignorant masses. The enlightened beings who guide the blind flock.”

From the edge of his vision, Hagen noticed how some of those present nodded along to Edgarth’s words. He needed to step up. “You make it sound as if the gods themselves descended from the heavens to choose us. I’ll be forced to disagree, as well as ask a very important question.” Hagen paused to give more weight to his next words. “What makes a noble?”

“A noble is someone who is better than the rest, sure, but in what way exactly? Your answers may be a higher intellect, a distinct accomplishment, or even an extraordinary prowess. These certainly are important qualities for a noble, but I’d argue those are all secondary to the main quality that a noble must possess. A higher character.”

“Now, this is a subjective theme and some of you may disagree, so allow me to ask another question. Of all of us nobles gathered here, how many were born to this position?” Hagen let the question hang in the air for a couple of moments as he started walking towards the side of the throne room where a collection of paintings populated the stone wall. Dressed in brightly colored clothes, all of the other nobles stepped aside to let him pass.

“Most of us I’d say. Then how about our parents? Probably a few more lowborns mixed there. Our grandparents even more so, so on and so forth. Looking back far enough on every noble family tree, we’ll eventually come across its first member, a remarkable individual who accomplished something so extraordinary that warranted the title of nobility.”

The paintings on the walls were mostly landscapes from Rochdale, with only a few portraits of truly important people. His great grandfather, for example, who won two King’s Tourney during his time at the Phoenix Academy had his portrait hanging on the wall. Despite ruling over Rochdale, Hagen didn’t dare hang his own portrait on that wall. He hadn’t achieved anything of note so he didn’t deserve it.

Hagen finally stopped in front of a portrait of an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and a stoic look in his eyes. Rather than intricate clothing and jewelry, he donned a weary armor. A silver plaque underneath it read: Hectar Westbrook, The Unwavering Rock (20 Flora 7113 — 7 Portunary 7375).

“This, right here, is the remarkable individual who started the Westbrook dynasty almost seven centuries ago. Born to a couple of tanners, he was the fifth of fourteen children. Most of his siblings followed the family business. Not him though. He wanted something greater to himself. At thirteen years of age, he managed to become a squire to one Sir Stuart. At twenty, he enrolled at the war academy, becoming a knight in training and finally a full-fledged knight, something that brought great pride to his family.

“He could've chosen a comfortable position serving under some minor lord but instead, he decided to rove out on his own, correcting injustices wherever he saw them. Some would call him a knight errant while other, harsher tongues would call him a hedge knight. Regardless, Hectar was a great man and an equally great warrior, so when the Three Queens’ War erupted, he took part.

“As fate would decide it, Hectar came to fight besides Alistair Olsandre. When Alistair and his men cornered Halle’s forces at the twin rivers, she tried to escape along with her bodyguards by crossing over the western river. Hectar, alone, stood in their way despite the danger, blocking them long enough for Alistair to arrive and cut off her head. Hectar could’ve chosen to let them pass as it was the safer course of action. He didn’t, and that’s why he was rewarded with a title of nobility.”

Hagen turned away from the portrait to speak to the whole room. “This is how the Westbrooks began, through the courageous, remarkable, and honorable actions of a single man.” His eyes locked on Joran and he made his way back towards the fat man.

“Edder Skanler was a man who I deeply respected, both for his unwavering strength of character as well as his feat of keeping Knight’s Crossing together when it found itself on the brink of collapse. But even someone as great as he wasn't infallible, and he had a colossal failure to his name. A failure that would put in check everything that he accomplished.” He came to a stop in front of Jogan, looking him dead in the eye. “A failure who now rules over Knight’s Crossing, tyrannizing, raping, and killing its people.”

Edgarth raised a hand. “My lord—”

“Don’t interrupt me when I speak,” Hagen cut him off immediately. Indeed he didn’t want to be too confrontational, but this was his time to show strength. “You claimed that Rass is a noble. I disagree. In the same way that a remarkable person may rise above their position, an abhorrent noble may lose their title of nobility. Maybe not on paper, but certainly in spirit. Calling Rass a noble is simply an insult to all of us gathered here.

“There’s a reason why I believe that strength of character is the most important quality of a noble, and that’s due to the amount of damage that an evil ruler may cause. Lord Edgarth gave some examples of revolutionaries throughout history, but he conveniently failed to mention how they began.

“Anysa of Harrenport only managed to rise to power because the lords of the time were too busy bickering with one another to stop her, while the Prince of Pigs’ rebellion came to be after a famine caused by the king’s bad rule.” Hagen left out Ludwig’s example, as it had more to do with religious unrest and wouldn’t do his argument any good. “These rebellions only started due to the rulers failing at their jobs. And Rass Skanler is nothing but an evil, sadistic failure who needs to be stopped before it is too late.”

Edgarth and Joran no longer said anything as the atmosphere in the room changed.

Hagen walked back towards Vasilis. Standing beside him and his family, Athalia had a large smile on her face. “This is why we can’t stay and watch.” He placed a hand on the foreigner’s armless shoulder. “This is why, when Vasilis declares war against Rass Skanler, I shall offer my full support.”

The first second there was silence, broken by someone clapping on the next one. Then a second and a third person clapped along. The signs of support spread until they took over most of those present. While those were important, Hagen needed to focus on those who had the most power.

Edgarth, as expected, had a scowl on his face. The barons under him seemed to be of a similar mind. Viscountess Hawick, on the other hand, had been one of the first ones to start clapping along. Even Semar and Crann left their petty bickering aside for a moment to show their support.

While not as enthusiastic, his four other viscounts also showed their support, although the barons under viscount Dyser seemed to be split. Hagen would need to do something about it in the coming days but, overall, this wasn’t a bad start. If he played his cards right, he might be able to leave Edgarth completely isolated.

Hagen looked back towards the portraits on the wall. Maybe he’d be able to hang his own portrait there one day. The thought brought a rare smile to his face.

***

John couldn’t help being surprised. Hagen spoke with much more passion than he could ever expect from the usually stoic man.

Standing on the far side of the room, John watched the discussions.

Neina, in her full suit of gray armor, nudged him on the arm. “Can we go now?” she whispered to him, her voice somewhat muffled by the closed helmet. “You’re gonna get us into trouble.”

Before the talks began, John had asked her to find him a spare suit of guards armor so that he could disguise himself and watch the event. He couldn’t lose the chance to find out more about Vasilis. The trip hadn’t been wasted, and he may have finally found a way of dealing with the man who caused his mother’s death.

“You’re right. Let’s go back.” Before leaving, John shot a glance at Edgarth. Jacke’s grandfather would help him get rid of Vasilis once and for all.