"Ser Fallon Diehurn, I always took you for an intelligent man. I have not visited these lands for perhaps five years since your lord father named me a lord over a small fief of northern Weptswur. Tell me frankly, what has changed within that time to provoke such things?" The man was a short and stoutly man with a mustache that covered his mouth and eyes that sunk deep into his round head.

Fallon stood before the King's Hall again, yet now his words garnered much more respect than last time he stood upon this same spot. Lords and Bishops and merchants and royal family had all begun flooding in for the great feast that was in a little less than a week's time, and now they crowded restlessly inside the great King's Hall alongside the normal host of men and women to hear the King's son speak upon an urgent matter—a matter of which the prisoner Vince had been brought forth from the deep dungeons below to further back the claims of Fallon Diehurn.

Fallon cursed the timing but reminded himself that the new influx of lords and ladies, merchants and bishops, and even peasants within the castle walls would force his parents to treat him properly. They didn't dare condemn their son before such a large audience, for they hoped that those who visited would see their family in a glorious, bright light—so that even their lowly, unloved son could be seen as a well-earned man.

Fallon had his own lands and was his own lord over a small people. But his lands were flooded all the time, being located at the foot of a valley on either side, and the people were always sour because of it. Crops failed, money dried up, he was to blame for the terrible weather. So, Fallon spent less time in his small lands and instead he did the deeds of his father, in hope to gain more favor. He was near giving up now, but evil lurked near and did not plan to watch his home go down in a hopeless pile of ashes and consequently, those lands beyond them as well.

The King's Hall had listened awhile during which Fallon explained what he had been told by Vince, although he left out the parts pertaining to those dark charms he wore across his chest. Fallon knew his father and mother too well, and any word that escaped his mouth would be unheard if they knew that the knowledge of this great evil had come about from visions stemming from a dragon horn. That had caused deep misunderstanding, as the King and Queen, the king's council, and lords who had travelled from afar to hear his words now questioned their legitimacy, clinging to their bias filled hope that no such thing could be true, for no one had truly seen an army marching out of the flowing, orange sands of the Carnakanes.

Fallon stood beside his prisoner, Vince, who stood in shackles and chains of the utmost tightness with a guard on each hip. There had been an increased presence in royal guards about the hall, and it had simply added to the over crowdedness of it all. Fallon listened as his mother blurred on about her usual mindless speech regarding the safety of the realm and how for centuries Wepstwur has stood, and blah...blah...blah...It bothered Fallon as his eyes scanned the king's council table, which sat below the raised dais. At the table was Edmund Nightclaw, hands interwoven together in a thoughtful twining. His Ki'vatsu were stood up against a wall underneath mosaics on the Queen's left. Fallon despised Nightclaw, and wondered why they didn't have him chained up, and the Magi in his place. But such were his parents, easily swayed by anyone but him, so long as their words spilled softly, and their dignity was not harmed. They did not want to hear the truth from his lips, especially if it meant serious action on their part. They wanted no part in war anymore, for that was what the people wanted, and his father was a weak King, too scared to displease anyone.

Fallon finally heard the faint murmur of his mother's repetitive words relinquish and he opened his mouth before another ignorant lord was able to have his irrelevant say on the matter.

"Mother, 'tis true, what I say. I see the truth in the Magi's words—"

"—He is a sorcerer, dear—"

"—AND NIGHTCLAW IS NOT? IT SHOULD BE HIS BLOODY HEAD UNDER THE EXECUTIONERS SWORD, NOT TERRAN'S." The words rang out like a whip across the floor. The entire congregation of mixed people gasped and chattered. His own mother held her jaw down so low that Fallon figured he could fit his entire head inside if he wanted. Fallon breathed hard from his loud yell. He had been calm and humble for too long, and he would not see treachery take place before his eyes like this. He saw Nightclaw now, his smug face gave neither smile nor frown, but placidness was there in his eyes, and Fallon despised it. He was winning.

"If you cannot behave like the son of ours that you are, Fallon, then I would have you feast with the prisoners below if you enjoy their company so much." Like laughter replaced the gasps now, and Fallon could feel his rage rising. The guards had taken a couple steps closer to him now and that only made him angrier. He could pull a sword on anyone who tried to touch him now, and he did not doubt it for a second.

Nightclaw spoke now, rising from his seat at the king's council, "Do tell us, Ser Fallon, how you came to know of these things? Or rather, how your prisoner there came to find it? It would seem he has learned things that an Ertorin stone could not possibly. Therefore, I say show us, Magi, show us your necklace. How did he know of the necklace? Fallon wondered and felt panic rise in him. If they know I have interacted with the dark magic of this prisoner, and I am soon to join their fate, my parent's decision or not.

Vince's fingers slowly lifted the necklace out from under his prisoner's tunic. The King gawked; the Queen let her mouth widen into an "O". Nightclaw allowed his lips that to broaden into a smile that Vince knew could only mean he had won. His fate was sealed. It was Fallon's king father who spoke now, breaking the stunned silence of the King's Hall. Fallon could feel the beads of sweating crowding his forehead amidst the stuffy room.

"It is always something with you, my son. Do you see your brother tampering about with dark magic like it is some fortune-telling tool? That is how a man loses his way, how evil spreads!" The King was leaned forward out of his throne seat and he spat those last words out.

"I understand father. This is a unique case, however, and I beg your patience as I reason this out before you. All of you shall listen, for it is a matter not only concerning myself and this castle, but the entire realm. These men that I have captured under suspicion of murder by our borders are good men, they are Magi. Vince, here, he has seen things to come that I believe to be true. Here these words, ladies, gentlemen, father, and mother. The once-dormant King Steed heads east towards our borders with an army of his followers, of his people. It is not the men that you or I are familiar with, but it is Deranged Men. Men who have been mutilated by the curse and dark magic of those lands and have no soul to show them the light. Not only that, but King Steed has the capability of a skinchanger, just as the ones you hear about in folklore and jest, but it is real. And I tell you this, and I tell you truly; he leads an army of Maldurians as the false Maldur King, for the real Maldur King is here in our possession as Terran the Slayer."

Shouts of "impossible!" and "treason!" rang out from royalty and guards and peasants of the castle alike. Fallon's eyes met his mercenary, Charion, who had gotten into some feud with one of the king's guards and they grappled at each other's necks like rabid dogs. Nightclaw was whispering something into one of his Ki'vatsu's ears, Fallon saw. Yet the chaos of the scenes before him had Fallon's eyes scampering across the floor before him like a lost child.

It was almost ten minutes before silence ensued throughout the King's Hall. Charion and his men had been led out of the room with spears at their backs by the King's guards and the man whom Charion had been grappling with lay on his side on the red and black tiling with his hands at his throat, gasping for air.

"So what you are telling me, my son, is that the very dark magic that has mutilated this group of men serving under King Steed, is the very same magic that you have been involved in with that swine that you captured who claims to be a Magi? True, yeah?"

"Not entirely—"

"Shut it. I will continue. Those are no Magi, son. I will tell you what I have come to learn from all my years of living and that is simply this—a Magi would never, never concern themselves with the filth of those dirty charms that are hanging about that swine's neck. It has never been done, and I will not have you getting your hands dirty. You are confused Fallon."

One of the visiting lords of Weptswur's smaller kingdoms tried to have his say with a look of importance planted upon his face, but Fallon drowned him out.

"My lord father, I find it most insulting that we must discuss such issue in such a setting. Grant me a meeting with you in private and let us discuss this behind closed doors. This is no way to go about discussing the troubles of the realm."

"You will not tell me how to run my throne and I should have you expelled to the dungeons for your insolence and disrespect, not to mention your involvement with the swine's dark magic—"

"—It is not simply dark magic, your highness." Vince spoke, and instantly covered his mouth with his hand. It had spilled out of him and he feared for his life now, as all eyes fell upon him now.

"And if that is how you see it; I can attest that it is no different than the magic by which you are relying on from your trusted advisor there with the purple robes and magic wand." Vince had capitalized on the king' silence and now his eyes rested on the accused Edmund Nightclaw's eyes seemed almost as if they were going to slide shut. His lips were still in a discreet smile and it made Vince uneasy. He should be on the defensive, what is he hiding? Or is he hiding anything at all?

King Erilin rose from his seat and nodded his head as he confirmed the thoughts running through his head now. Snickers from the side panel where the lords of Wetpswur snickered and talked in low, excited voices. Glad they find this amusing. This should scare them, and perhaps it will when Steed's army steamrolls their kingdom and torches their churches and slaughters their people.

"What say you, Edmund Nightclaw? You are, indeed, a trusted advisor of Weptswur's council." King Erilin's words sounded like praise as they escaped his lips.

"I am accused of being a user of this 'dark magic', as it has been said. But of what proof, I simply ask? I wield the Ertorin stone, the stone bent to the will of the true Creator and him alone. I do not have dark charms strung about my neck like a man of darkness. Besides, it is I who captured the Slayer, the man who brought all of this condemnation before the realm in the first place..."

"That is not your stone, you thief. That is the stone of my master, Magi Fintan, servant of the realm! You had him captured and left for dead, and that is where this Valligian tusk was taken from!" Vince yelled now, his youth and childness emerging now.

"Tell me, where did you get that dragon tusk, child?"

"It was gifted to me by my predecessor."

"That is fair enough, as this stone was gifted to me by a good friend of mine, who no longer serves the Magi Order. Their practice is dead, and their temple is in ruins. Who is to say it is not?"

"Okay enough, enough!" The King was on his feet and begging the quarrel to stop. Nightclaw leaned back in his seat but was visibly flustered for the first time that Vince had seen.

"It shall be determined whether an army marches on Weptswur in the coming days. It shall be my favorite son, Prince Brahon, who commandeers a force of his choosing to seek out word of King Steed's arrival. In the meantime, Fallon Diehurn, though I wish you did not represent our house name so poorly, I will see to it that you stay out of trouble, and perhaps learn a lesson or two about humility, and I will have you share quarters with your swine in the dungeons until further notice. Now, let us have supper in preparation for next week's decision day regarding the execution and death of the Maldur Slayer." Roars and applause went up from the lords and their families and followers who had joined them in convening at the Castle's great feast. Harps and singing began to fill the air and the king's guards escorted Vince and Fallon down to the dark, chilly dungeon where Fintan sat waiting.

His face still hidden in the shadows and his legs crossed he uttered only the words, "Ser Fallon, I think you are on the wrong side of the bars. Are you lost?"