Sunlight beamed into Isten’s room, waking him from his slumber before the maids did. He groaned to himself and stretched, shaking some of the lethargy away. He stared vacantly at the bed’s canopy with a hand stretched out in front of him, contemplating what had happened yesterday morning.

‘It must have been real. What else could have damaged the carpet except from one of Eiddil’s attacks? But why didn’t he cover it up like all the other things? Did he forget to do it? No… That doesn’t make much sense…’ He contemplated.

‘What of my injuries, though? There are no medicines available that would heal my cut arm, nor torn fingernails this quickly. While Malevolency might have healed me, the degree to which I was healed is rare to find within Pentref without alerting anyone, particularly my parents.’

‘So why would Eiddil have wasted so much effort to cover this up? He could have killed me when he threw me into the basin.’ Isten grew frustrated as he couldn’t comprehend their actions.

Knock! Knock!

The bedroom door was pushed open, and the maids once again went about their morning duties. They opened the bed’s curtain and Trulliad’s face appeared before Isten.

“Good morning, master Isten. We have a busy day today so be prepared for a full spectacle. You will be attending the trial of Horyd Coeden today with your family. Remember, you will need courtly manners as it is your first time in public since arriving at Pentref.” Trulliad greeted Isten with a smile.

“Okay, but why is an aristocrat being put on trial, especially the King’s advisor? I thought we were immune to most legal cases?” Isten asked.

“Normally, that would be true. However, Lucien caught Horyd Coeden conspiring to collapse the Church of Cymorth through agitation and violence. He is being tried for treason and heresy. These are very serious crimes that even nobles can be tried for.” Trulliad said gravely.

“Ah! So, he is the one my father spoke about yesterday morning; that makes sense then.” Isten replied. He got out of bed and Trulliad dressed him in formal attire. They left his bedroom and made way to the drawing room for breakfast.

No one was waiting inside this morning, and there was a strange solitary feeling about the room. Isten ate alone, though Trulliad waited nearby, answering any of Isten’s questions about the day’s events.

“What time is the trial at?” Isten asked in between bites of a breakfast sandwich.

“It is to begin at noon. Your family has already gone to prepare for it. The chief prosecutors against Horyd today will be the Blodyn family, you see. I believe it will be Eiddil and Malus who are to take the mantle for arguing the case.” Trulliad replied.

“That’s interesting,” Isten took another bite, then asked. “Since this is going to be my first time in public, and arguably in a different setting than we imagined. How should I best present myself?”

“As long as you behave as you’ve been taught, you should be fine. It shouldn’t be too different than how you would act at a theatre, with reserved dignity and honour.” Trulliad explained.

“That makes sense. Will you be coming with me?”

“I will accompany you to the courthouse and to your parents. Afterwards, I must withdraw as only aristocrats are able to attend this trial.” Trulliad gave a look of helplessness.

Isten set his silver cutlery down onto the table, having finished his morning breakfast. It was an assortment of preserved meats and breads today, which were positioned in a vast spread. The red meats and the creamy pastoral colours of the sandwich fillings and dressings were a marvel to the eye. They were certainly delicious as well.

Isten left the opulent drawing room with Trulliad and they made their way through the labyrinth like mansion. The carriages were parked beneath a beautifully engraved stone gate. A horse whinnied in fear as a murder of crows flew into the sky from the high rising brick walls.

Isten looked up, tracing the crows' movement in the blue sky above, then took in the gate before him. He saw two huge metal lanterns that took witness of the mansion’s courtyard. Their post was joined by four smaller lanterns, which were currently extinguished as it was morning.

Barring entry into the manor stood a wrought iron gate that had been shaped into intricate patterns of sharp points and elegant curls and arcs. Isten thought that it was impossible for anyone not to view it as magnificent. That it symbolised the majesty of aristocrats.

Before the gate, a wooden and metal carriage waited with its driver for Isten and Trulliad. A small procession of servants stood before it to ensure Isten’s first public appearance went immaculately.

Isten boarded the carriage staring outside the window towards the wider city, enjoying its glory. The rays of sunlight illumined the city. People populated the streets forming a bustling crowd that roiled beneath the prodigious buildings. They created an impressive skyline.

Trulliad sat across from him on the cushioned seats, a small smile on his face. A whip cracked in the air and the carriage set off towards Pentref’s Royal Courts of Justice.

———

Inside Pentref’s Royal Courts of Justice, Lucien descended a marble staircase. He planted a foot down, stepping onto the mosaic like floor made of a kaleidoscope of ephemeral light that shone before him. It shone in through beautifully stained-glass windows. Despite the enormity of the ribbed vaults, which were supported by monolithic pillars, Lucien’s figure dominated the hallway with his presence.

He made his way to the Princesses Bench where Horyd Coeden’s trial was to begin at noon. His brothers were the primary prosecutors today, and they had received the compiled information from Afon. It wasn’t necessary for him to be wholly present for the trial as they had a complete case to convict him.

Rather, Lucien’s current objective was to appease King Brenin. He would be apoplectic that his precious advisor was to be executed without his prior knowledge. Thus, to ensure that King Brenin could be as content as possible, Lucien was hoping to placate him so that he did not act out in a fit of anger against the aristocracy.

In order to fulfil this, Lucien had prepared leverage in negotiations before they occurred. He had requested Morrigan to assassinate Cardinal Peace for precisely this reason. It had opened a new position of power in the Church of Cymorth that was rarely available to fill, particularly for a monarch.

‘I must thank Horyd for causing this mess. I can now kill several birds with one stone,’ Lucien thought to himself. ‘I’ve been needing a spy with more intelligence recently, it’s good timing that a corrupt Cardinal could be removed. Even better, the blame will fall on Horyd. Even the Church will lavish this opportunity to get rid of him.’

Lucien opened the door into the Princesses Bench. There was a congregation of aristocrats inside, finely dressed in colourful silk clothing surrounding a man who held a golden orb and cane.

“Greetings, Lucien Blodyn! How nice of you to finally join us.” A pretentious voice shrilled from within the gaggle of nobles. Lucien didn’t recognise the voice, but smiled.

“Good morning, your Majesty.” Lucien bowed before the King. King Brenin refused to acknowledge his presence, his back turned in a cold display. A ripple of sound and emotion passed through the crowd. He looked around and saw some men and women snickering with schadenfreude, while others looked at him with concern. They were his longstanding allies.

‘Damn, this going to be difficult. I’m going to need to separate him from the group first.’ He thought to himself.

The crowd was a cacophony of noise as they returned to their conversations. Loud shouts, jeers, and laughs echoed from the group as they attempted to court favour with their betters in the social hierarchy.

Lucien strode over to the group, using his enormous physical stature to move people away, to get to the King’s side. As he got closer, a hand was intentionally stuck out to block his path, which transformed into a wall of poly-chromatic colours.

Before him stood several nobles that blocked his path. Scathing smirks were plastered on their faces.

“Ah, the King’s advisors, or more widely known as the friends of Horyd Coeden, the traitor. Also known as those next in line to the chopping block.” Lucien brazenly lampooned the group. He then lowered his voice.

“I dragged Horyd down and he’s soon to be tried and convicted for treason. Now, if I just follow the money, as I have all his accounts, I wonder where that will lead to…” Lucien whispered a scornful threat to the men and women before him.

“Money might've beguiled Horyd, which was an unfortunate trait of his. But, that doesn't necessarily make him a traitor, now. However, it doesn’t charm all of us the same as it does for him, Lucien. Your insipid hostilities mean little to us. We are innocent after all.” A man of similar stature retorted, who Lucien recognised as Ilyn Masarn. He was the leader of House Masarn.

“Is that so? Well then, you shouldn’t mind the Intelligence Service setting up a formal inquiry into the nature of your House’s finances. Preferably with your full cooperation, of course... Which is odd, because in the past you and your friends have been very resistant to such measures.” Lucien responded. Guile marked his smile.

A hook-nosed aristocrat took a step back, creating a crack within their blockade. Lucien swiftly stepped between them and continued towards King Brenin. Ilyn Masarn and the rest watched him leave, their eyes burned with anger, though they chose not to continue the fight.

Lucien reached King Brenin and stood behind him silently. Waiting. King Brenin continued to ignore him, and clamour of the aristocrats began to quiet down into hushed murmurs.

The room’s lighting slowly became more vibrant as the sun’s intensity increased. Light streamed into the Princesses Bench through the ornate stained-glass windows and danced elegant patterns on the wooden floor.

Finally, the atmosphere became too intense, and a King’s attendant joined Lucien’s side, leaning into his ear.

“The Royal Majesty does not wish to speak to you right now. You are lacking in propriety.” The King’s attendant whispered. The aristocrats around them strained to listen into the conversation. Lucien knew some would use Malevolency.

“Please ask his Royal Highness to meet me in private. I have important news and a potential offer for him that he’d might like to hear.” Lucien responded in a hushed tone.

“I am not certain that he will respond positively towards this. You have offended him greatly this time.”

“We can discuss this properly in private. This is beneficial for his Highness, and it is an offer he will not refuse.”

“I will see what I can do,” the attendant replied. “However, be prepared for a negative outcome. Your position within him is fragile. Your optimism might have more adverse repercussions than if you were to let his anger fade over time.”

“I do not doubt that. However, this matter cannot be ignored, especially at a time such as this.” Lucien said.

The attendant walked away sternly, and Lucien gave an aggrieved look for performance’s sake. While some would have caught the conversation through conventional or supernatural means, Lucien recognised that the context of the conversation was vague. By adding some misdirection, he could manipulate some aristocrats into incorrect conclusions.

‘The dim ones amongst them should assume that I was lying about my information,’ Lucien thought to himself. ‘That should tide them over for a while.’

He slunk away into the background of the courthouse while the conversations resumed throughout the crowd. Most weren’t interested in Lucien being ignored by the King. Instead, they were excited about the trial ahead.

Sharp eyes watched Lucien with intensity as he vacated the room, though they did not pursue. Inside the stone hallway, Lucien strode confidently. A halo of light followed behind him lighting his steps. The royal attendant found him again shortly after and walked by his side.

“His Royal Highness will meet you in half an hour in private at the King room. You and his Majesty will be the only ones in attendance, per your request.” The attendant informed Lucien.

Lucien nodded with a smile. “Thank you…”

“Horace.” Horace, the attendant answered.

“Thank you, Horace.” Lucien said.