Ardaik 8th – La'Trest, Lorellia

The marquis's claim received a swift reaction from the servant closest to the king's bed—an immediate draw of breath that sounded akin to someone expecting to take their last.

Folian was certain he could feel the fear radiating off the poor bastard. Out of those present, any of the servants standing by, like eerie pieces of furniture, easily had to be at the top of the "expendable" list compared to the life of a Lorellian noble. The thought made him cringe; he couldn't claim he'd mourn the passing of either. A Lorellian was a Lorellian. And all of them were a pain in the arse.

"At the cost of another life?" Cristaldo mumbled, his expression grim as he tilted his chin upwards. "As in a sacrifice?"

Bhalthier swallowed thickly and had to wet his lips before answering. "Yes. The hex upon you was cast using blood magic, and so any counter must match the price...blood for blood," the marquis explained somberly, his gaze sticking to the king and the floor between them but refusing to meet any other direct gaze for fear of the judgment he'd find lingering there.

The room fell silent again. It was so quiet, in fact, that the sound of the murmured conversation Iain and McKee were having in the hall felt offensively loud.

"...Faure."

The servant who'd led them to the room and brought them to Cristaldo's bedside lifted his head, answering too quickly to conceal the waver in his voice. "Yes, your Majesty?"

"Go collect one of the scullery maids."

The chill on the tip of the Lorellian king's words made the hair on Folian's arms stand. Of course...a woman was to pay the price if one need be paid. The disgust on his face was evident, even in such little light.

"How long will this...process take, Lord Cullach?" Cristaldo asked once the servant had fled from the room and he had dismissed his guards, save for one whose armor was decorated more finely than the others and the four that remained near the doors. 

Bhalthier had begun to tunnel vision, and sweat had started to bead across his pale complexion. His eyes closed tightly as he reached into his pocket, hastily retrieving his handkerchief to blot away the sweat. His hands trembled, and his frame swayed slightly until he suddenly broke. "I...I need a moment." It was quite unlike him to act without being excused, but whatever had gotten hold of the marquis had him all but running out of the room before any reply had been issued.

He exited so suddenly that the door swung wide and nearly connected with Iain and McKeen as Bhalthier rushed past to the nearest balcony. It wasn't until he was out in the air that he could catch his breath and calm himself.

"Cullach?" Iain had given the squirrely man a solid minute or so to breathe before imposing. He was the only one who'd given chase to Bhalthier. "Honestly, you lasted longer in there with all'a those people than I wagered you would... If it's any consolation."

Bhalthier swallowed down the remaining nausea as he began to regain his composure. Still, the younger man was unable to face Iain directly. How embarrassing to be sent fleeing from a room like a child, as if simply being a mage wasn't humiliation enough. "The room will need to be cleared..." Bhalthier spoke as much to himself as he did to Iain, his words ringing with defeat. "...Thank you."

***

"Yar not seriously goin' to do this, are ye?" Folian asked discreetly once Bhalthier had returned to Cristaldo's bedroom. The marquis had missed the conversation between who he'd decided was his Lorellian equivalent in rank—and rank only—and the cursed king over whether or not the queen was to be informed of what was going on—or even their arrival at the castle. Cristaldo, to what little credit Folian cared to give him, didn't want his wife involved. "She's been through enough as of late," had been the Lorellian king's words..."Let her rest."

Now, it was just Cristaldo, Liam, Bhalthier, and the two most trusted guards of each king alone in the room...awaiting a servant and an unfortunate kitchen maid.

Bhalthier didn't answer, only stared at the area that had been cleared in front of him where he'd etched out the arcane runes with charcoal. Of course, he was going to go through with this; what choice did he have? Refusal would only add a foreign ruler's death to the list of his failings, and while saving Cristaldo wouldn't undo the past, perhaps it would preserve what little of his reputation was left.

However, his resolve deteriorated the moment the maid was brought into the room. At first, she didn't seem any wiser. Scared that she'd done something wrong, perhaps, but not frightened in the way that he'd expect if someone were being brought to their suddenly imposed execution. But like an animal caught in a trap, the maid's demeanor slowly became more panicky as she took notice of the candles and symbols on the floor. She tried to pull back, but when she wasn't allowed to back away and was forced into the circle by the guards, she began pleading and begging for forgiveness. The poor girl—she didn't even know what for, and yet she begged all the same.

Bhalthier's teeth ground together a moment before he broke completely. "Hold—I cannot use someone that is unwilling. As a member of the Citadel and by their creed, magic cannot be used to harm... It shouldn't be used to take a life unless necessary..."

"You don't feel this necessary?" Cristaldo's brow sported a deep crease.

"You didn't say a thing about willingness before," the head Lorellian guard swiftly accused.

"Please!! I don't want to die! Your Majesty, please, I beg of you, please!" the girl sobbed.

Folian pinched the bridge of his nose. "An impossible task, then," he hissed from behind Bhalthier. "Even their soldiers, sworn ta give their lives to protect their king, hasn't said nar a word!"

"Spar," Liam warned.

Folian spat out a harsh "Cowards," under his breath before resolving to hold his tongue as his king commanded.

Silence engulfed the room, with more tension surrounding the men and the solitary girl than one would find in a drawn bowstring.

"I'll do it," said a weak voice from near the door, drawing the attention of everyone to the guard standing farthest left. "I uhm...I'll do it. The marquis can use me...if it'll save his Majesty."

Folian tilted his head, expressing his surprise with a soft snort. What a pity it was that in following through with his claim, this sole guard would be depriving the royalty of Lorellia of likely the only man brave enough to truly do anything to protect them.

"Take the girl back to the kitchen," Cristaldo said to his head guard as the one who'd spoken up approached the circle. "Let us proceed with this retched deed quickly, and let it never be spoken of."

"Very well," Bhalthier whispered.

Every step that brought Folian closer to the sacrificial guard sounded louder in his own ears. He loathed the guilt and sympathy that gripped his insides. The man was shaking as he removed his gloves so that he could unclasp the plate mail encasing his torso. Folian couldn't blame him.

The fear he felt while engaging in a battle was entirely different from the kind that coursed through him presently. The adrenaline and the heightened instincts, the arrogance and the ego, all of the things that normally would lend him the strength to expertly wield his blade—to prepare his mind for the possibility of taking a life or losing his own—were absent.

Instead, Folian felt sluggish...reluctant. As much as he didn't care for Lorellian culture or principles, he didn't want this man to die. Or at least he didn't want to be the one to kill him. But a single look at Cullach's face made it all too clear that the marquis was incapable of carrying out the act himself. In fact, Folian wasn't entirely convinced that Cullach wouldn't faint the moment the man's blood was spilled.

The sound of the man placing his plate mail on the polished, stone-tiled floor brought Folian from his thoughts, and he watched as the man removed his helmet to reveal a head of blond hair cropped close to his head.

"What's yar name?" Folian asked under his breath as he moved behind the guard, drawing his own short sword from its scabbard at his hip.

The guard sniffed and looked at Cristaldo before raising his chin. "Dubray," the Lorellian said. "Dominique Dubray."

Folian's gaze flitted towards Cristaldo, hazel eyes burning before falling back to the guard. "I'll hang it from a branch," he swore quietly. His next movement was so swift and violent that it was over in an instant. Blood splashed the charcoal markings, and Dubray's body toppled forward. Folian didn't look at anyone as he sheathed his sword—tears that he refused to let fall stinging and blurring his vision before he blinked them away.

After another moment of complete silence, Folian motioned at the body with his hand, inviting Cullach—surprisingly still upright—to do whatever he intended to. Folian, however, didn't intend to stay, and he was quite relieved when Liam followed him out.

***

Ardaik 9th - La'Trest, Lorellia

Bhalthier felt so small in the gilded halls of the palace. The impossibly high ceilings made him feel minuscule. The windows were equally large, allowing the morning light to flood the rooms and corridors. With so much light and free space, one might hardly notice the few guards who stood watch here and there. But for Bhalthier, even their inconspicuous presence was obtrusive, and the marquis once again escaped onto one of the many balconies.

Normally, it would be unwise to have as many large windows and open balconies as La'Trest castle sported. However, now that he was outside, he could clearly see why it did. The walls that separated the castle grounds from the city were far beyond the reach of any arrow fired from the ramparts. In the land that surrounded the palace were the servant's houses, the royal stables, a barracks, some fields, and a small river that ran right under the grand crossing bridge. It was a fortress from which the king and his family could have remained inside for months without the need for supplies.

But their walls offered no defense against the likes of a dragon or magic. Bhalthier's head lifted to the skies, the evening breeze playing through his dark hair; even it couldn't wash away the lingering feeling of guilt that sat upon him. He knew he was not the only one troubled by what had happened; he'd seen it in the others and didn't need his clairvoyance to know that this would haunt them all forever.

Then he spied a familiar form on the wind, a crow white as ivory that turned down its wings and came to land on the ledge before him.

"Lasrian, what have you found?" the marquis wondered as he stretched out his forearm and offered it to his bird. The raven hopped on, and with a single stroke of his fingers across his bird's feathers, Bhalthier could see all that his pet had viewed; none of it told him where the prince was.

It was disappointing, but it did help put their true purpose for being here into focus. Flann. That was why they'd saved the King. That was why Liam had brought him here specifically, to piece together what had happened the night of the ceremony, to find the prince.

Bhalthier moved his raven to his shoulder as he made his way back inside to where he hoped he would find answers. The grand ballroom—surely Flann had been there, somewhere. The marquis tried to keep his hunt discreet, dragging his finger across the mantle of the fireplace, the back of a chair, the edge of a serving tray. Glimpses and flashes sprang into his consciousness, moving paintings of what had taken place. Mostly it was all a jumbled mess, so many people, years of secrets and conversations, but no Flann.

Bhalthier suddenly froze in place the moment his hand touched the staircase railing. He was absorbed by a feeling of excitement and urgency. Something small and stollen lay in his pocket, a secret that only he knew, but that wouldn't stay a secret for long. He needed to find his friend and leave. Across the room, he spied a blond, and with him, Flann.

Bhalthier pulled his hand away from the railing and hurried up the stairs to find the nearest guard. "Where is the prince's room? Show me."

"Her Majesty said he's not to be disturbed for now."

"Very well, then I shall settle for a word with her."

The guard gave the marquis a skeptical look before escorting him to the Lady's sitting room, where he left Bhalthier with a pair of guards before going to fetch the queen.

"Lord Cullach," Vivienne greeted as she joined him. She'd just seen him not long ago at breakfast. "Was there something I could do for you?"

"As you may have heard, Prince O'Conar is missing, and I was hoping that either you or Artus might recall where you last saw him."

The beautiful woman's neutral expression waned, and she laced her hands in front of her gown. "Artus is missing as well," she said, the muscles in her jaw tense. "I last recall seeing Prince O'Conar at dinner on the night of the attack."

The marquis didn't respond right away; instead, he turned her words over in his head. Perhaps it was his gift that made him overly skeptical of what others told him, but who wouldn't be paranoid after a lifetime of knowing everything that nobody wanted you to know. It made trusting anyone difficult, yet what the guard had told him still stood out. If Artus was missing, then why had the guard told him he was not to be disturbed?

"Thank you, your Majesty...is there a listing of all those who are still unaccounted for?"

"I'm sure there is, but that would be a question for someone else," Vivienne replied. "Lord Cullach? Can you not use your...skills to find Prince O'Conor or my son?" There was an intensity to the queen's eyes that spoke volumes where her tightly controlled expressions didn't. Her fear and concern for her son were there, but she was, without a doubt, a Lorellian woman.

The queen's request struck him hard; even saving the king was not enough to absolve him of the crime of magic. Bhalthier swallowed thickly and gave her a single nod.

"Understood, your Majesty." He supposed that he had been awfully cavalier with his abilities. This wasn't Homenil, and Liam's amnesty would only go so far. He just wanted to escape to his solitude again, but there was still something else.

"Forgive me, but there was one last thing... Was anything taken or missing?"

"You have my deepest gratitude for what you've done for Cristaldo, Lord Cullach. But if you've exhausted your purpose here, I'd appreciate that you leave."

Bhalthier winced as he felt the thin ice he'd been treading with the queen crack and collapse under him. "Of course, I'll see myself out," he replied in an equally controlled tone as he turned to leave the room.