Nicholas

  “You’ll let me know as soon as you can what this whole thing’s about, right?” Markus asks, anxiety clear on his face. Nicholas can tell that he isn’t even trying to conceal it – perhaps he doesn’t feel that it’s necessary since the only humans in the room are them and Sarran.

  “I will,” Nicholas promises, finishing the last bites of his breakfast. Despite Torrent’s implied threats, Ionith has summoned him to a meeting in the Green Chamber at the eighth mark. Nicholas takes that as a good sign – that the King is not treating him already as a criminal. However, it does seem more and more likely that the summons relates to a misdemeanour on his part, whether that is the rift he opened or something else. Ionith’s summons were terse and brief; without the need to keep the message short so as to not be a burden on the flying golem, he could have explained more and would have in most circumstances.

  Nicholas eyes the candle set into the wall – it’s not far from the eighth mark and he mustn’t be late. The Green Chamber isn’t that far away from the Titanbend apartments, but it will still take a few minutes to get there. He pushes himself to his feet. Markus stands up with him, still looking anxious.

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  Nicholas shakes his head firmly.

  “Anything you try to do is likely to make things worse. If it is indeed what we are fearing, it is I who must answer for it as both lord of our House and the one who instigated the actions. If it is something else, overreactions may draw more attention than we wish. Mind Mathis, Regan, and Laemen – focussing on your training is the best use of your time right now since I don’t want you leaving these apartments if at all avoidable.” There are several things Nicholas would like to accomplish while they are here, and not all of them require his presence, but until he knows which way the water is flowing, it is best his new heir does not go into public. Fortunately, the training hall here is good enough for Markus’ needs.

  “Alright.” Markus doesn’t seem happy about not being able to help in any way, but Nicholas is glad that he accepts it without an argument – the hours they spent together overnight seem to have improved his sense of trust in Nicholas as well as his knowledge of etiquette and the delicate balance of power between the Houses, knowledge which is soon shown. “Justice and Luck be with you,” he offers, making a flicker of pride go through Nicholas. He even makes the correct small bow of his head that’s appropriate for an heir saying farewell to his lord.

  “Thank you. Warrior be with you,” Nicholas returns, turning and striding out of the room. Sarran follows him, a step behind as usual. “Elia is coming?” Nicholas checks.

  “She’s already waiting outside the door,” Sarran confirms. Nicholas sees that only a few moments later when he exits the apartments.

  “Sera Quickquill,” Nicholas greets, briefly slowing down before continuing to walk. He knows that Elia won’t take offence – no doubt Sarran has informed her of the time and place of the meeting and so she’ll know the hurry.

  “Lord Titanbend,” Elia returns his greeting, dipping her head far lower than Markus did – as is appropriate. Since they’re moving, she doesn’t bow fully and quickly lifts her head again, correctly assuming that Nicholas wouldn’t be a stickler for the proprieties either. “Ser Mirransson informed me of the situation.” She doesn’t need to say any more – not only does Nicholas know exactly what Sarran has told her, but that’s a key phrase which Nicholas knows means she has been informed of everything pertinent.

  “Good. I will ask you to stay outside the meeting room until or unless I ask for you to enter. Should this be brought to a formal inquiry, the King will not deny me access to an orator.” Only in cases such as treason would requests like that be denied, and mostly because treason cases are so serious that monarchs usually desire to speak to the accused and hear their words for themselves rather than having them translated through the mouth of an orator.

  “Yes, my lord,” Elia agrees quickly – no doubt the instruction is expected.

  Since, as Nicholas told Markus yesterday, one never knows exactly who is listening into a conversation – as someone certainly does not have to be present to have access to a listening enchantment – they stride through the halls in silence, moving faster at a walk than most non-Classers could do at a run.

  Soon enough, they reach the door to the familiar room – right on time, according to the candle set in the wall to the right of the door. Since all time candles in the castle are linked by a ward, Nicholas can be certain that it is not simply burning slower than others. He takes a single deep breath and then lets it out, pushing his feelings of dread out with the air.

  Pushing the door open, he strides into the room as if nothing is wrong – alone.

  The other four Great Lords and Ladies are already there – as expected. No doubt, they were convened at a quarter mark previously to make sure they arrived before Nicholas did. The presence of the Grand Sorcerer – the head of the palace’s mages – is less expected, but if this is about the Gateway, his presence is not inappropriate. He looks rather more fidgety, unaccustomed to being seated with the lords of such powerful Houses. He’s new to the post – if Nicholas remembers correctly, his predecessor was caught in an unfortunate magical accident only a few months ago. He hasn’t yet perfected the calm demeanour that his predecessor had had, or that the other Great Lords and Ladies are showing. The five of them are settled around the semi-circular table, one chair left empty. The King’s seat.

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  It doesn’t escape Nicholas’ notice that his normal seat isn’t present. This is a room where hearings of all sorts often take place – the ones that do not require, or perhaps would be better off without, the presence of the whole court. Normally, there would be six seats around the curved side of the table; today, there are only five. Nicholas takes the hint and stands in front of the table, nodding at his peers. Flameform, Forestheart, and Goldmine return the gesture; Torrent does not.

  They wait in silence – Nicholas would guess that his peers know little more than he does about the nature of the summons. If they did, he was sure that at least one of them would be talking to him about it – if only Torrent in order to taunt him. Their silence speaks more than their words could have. As does the continued absence of the King – the longer they are forced to wait, the more likely it is that Ionith is displeased. That, or that he actually has other business which has come up at the last moment.

  Fortunately, Ionith doesn't keep them waiting for too long. Only a – long and uncomfortable, even if none of them allow discomfort to show on their faces – quarter-mark goes past before the King enters from the side door.

  Everyone bows their heads, the mage bowing at the waist, his position nominally far lower than those of the Great Lords and Ladies, even if in reality he probably has more of the ear of the King than any of them.

  “Your majesty, well met,” Nicholas murmurs along with the others.

  “I call this meeting to order,” Ionith announces briskly. Everyone takes that as the cue to look up. He’s seated himself in the central chair, two lords or ladies to either side of him, and the mage sitting on the corner of the table to the left, not quite part of the affair, but still present.

  “Starblade, what’s this about?” Maxence Forestheart asks nervously, darting glances between the King, his peers, and Nicholas. As well he might be anxious – he is almost as tied to Titanbend’s fortunes as Nicholas is. “Your summons was rather…limited in information, merely that we had to come to the palace immediately for a trial of peers.”

  Nicholas mentally thanks Maxence for the information, though thinks grumpily that the other lord could have informed him earlier – he’s been wondering whether the messages sent to the other Great Houses had been any more informative than his own. As it turns out, the only extra piece of information they’d been given had been that the summons was for a trial of peers. Why didn’t Ionith tell him that? Did he think Nicholas would run? Surely not.

  “I would be interested in learning more too,” Goldmine agrees with a sultry drawl. “I had to cancel several meetings to come here at such notice – meetings which will no doubt cost me, and the kingdom, much coin if I am unable to reschedule them later.”

  “My deepest regrets for discommodating all of you,” Ionith answers clearly, his expression completely blank. Nicholas can’t read anything from him at all, not without using any Skills – and doing so in this context would be a grave offence. “I’m sure that you all recognise that I would not do such a thing without great need.” There’s a chorus of murmurs around the rooms, agreeing with Ionith’s words – as a King, he has been fairly undemanding except in matters of national security such as an invasion from the Damayar or a Beast Monarch wreaking havoc in more than one territory.

  “Then what is this great need?” Flameform demands. “Stop holding us in suspense, Starblade!” If Nicholas wasn’t already splitting his attention between maintaining his own mask of unconcern and evaluating his peers’ reactions, he’d have been amused by the surprise on the mage’s face. Clearly this is his first meeting with only the Great Lords and the King – the casual way in which Flameform is addressing the King is no doubt shocking on first exposure. But ultimately, though Ionith Starblade is a step above them in authority, it is only a small step, and granted through the Great Lords continuing to offer him fealty. He is not arrogant enough to think that the situation is other than that, and does not object to being treated as a peer as long as the Great Lords and Ladies follow his lead when necessary.

  “Three days ago, the territorial alert network was activated,” Ionith answers levelly, almost pointedly not looking at Nicholas, though several of his peers do. They know exactly what the network was designed to identify, and are intelligent enough to determine that there are only a limited number of possibilities for him being in front of them in a trial of peers. Their gazes are a mixture of questioning and accusing, depending on his relationship with the lord or lady in question. Meanwhile, Nicholas is cursing himself – clearly his warding wasn’t nearly good enough if the Gateway had been picked up by the network’s sensors. “A stable rift was detected – in Azaarde.”

  Ionith’s declaration is met by silence for a beat, and then uproar.

  “A rift?!” Flameform cries with panic. “Have the creatures been dealt with or are they tearing up the countryside even now?”

  “If they are approaching my territory, I will need reinforcements,” Goldmine informs the King levelly at the same time, her calculating mind clearly already at work.

  “I told you that Titanbend was up to no good!” Torrent crows viciously to anyone who’s listening, which seems to be no one – everyone else is focussing on their own affairs, or in Maxence’s case, staring at Nicholas incredulously.

  “Quiet everyone!” Ionith orders and Nicholas briefly feels a Skill activating, one that removes control over sound from anyone but the King. He recognises the Skill – it’s not Seal, but it has similarities to it. The King, of course, is the exception to the rule of no Skills, though he’s wise enough to exert his privilege sparingly. The room goes silent, whether or not everyone is willing to stop talking. “Lord Titanbend, would you care to explain exactly why a stable rift was opened in your territory, close to your country seat, and yet you have made no reports of such a thing?” His tone makes it clear that it’s not optional.

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