Tale of Four

The throne room fell silent after Cardinal Brown was taken out. Closing his eyes and tapping the armrest, everyone felt as if Elias was a copy of his father in that moment, the crown sat atop his golden set of hair, perched as if it was made for the man. Tristan couldn’t help but wonder what it was Elias pondered, his bouncing finger enough of a tell that he was in deep thought.

Lord Deacon rubbed his head for a moment and sighed, clearing his throat. "Your Highness. If there are no other matters to attend to, I believe we can adjourn." His voice was croaky, but full of wisdom. Elias’ finger suddenly stopped, and half opening his eyes, the black pupils full of disgust looked down at William. "I really hate your smile," Elias said, making the air in the room heavy. William didn’t flinch, instead smiling wider and chuckling.

"Forgive me, your highness. I love life, and it is hard not to smile." William replied and shrugged.

"Brother, maybe we should adjourn," Mabel said, looking to Tristan with a worried gaze. Elias glanced towards his sister and scoffed. Leaning forward, he grabbed his chin, his other hand rubbing the ivory armrest.

"Tell me, William, this evidence must have been in your grasp for a while now. Why is it that it has suddenly come to light the moment my father leaves? Could you not trust my father with such information? Surely not." William closed his eyes and nodded, as if he were a lecturer who just received a brilliant question. Clasping his hands behind his back, he met Elias’s gaze and tilted his head ever so slightly.

"It is simple, your highness. I have no doubt about His Grace’s ability to handle the issue, nor did I purposefully withhold this to hurt him. I had intended to tell His Grace had I not learnt of your return. With your return, I believed you would be fit to handle it and, in turn, allow His Grace to focus solely on the war." The words flowed like water. William looked around the room, "I am sure no one doubts my loyalty to the throne, after all, even if partially incorrect, Cardinal Brown said it. I got my position due to blood. Why would I wish to harm His Graces or your rule, my prince, when you carry my cousin’s blood?"

Elias stared deep into William’s eyes, taking deep, calm breaths. After a moment of it, he turned to Mabel and spoke, "I think I realised soemthing, sister." Mabel smiled but clenched her fists behind her back, hiding how she truly felt. Elias looked back at William, smirked, "All those who run the Silent Chamber. They are all the worst type of..." Elias stopped himself at the final moment, "Person." Changing what he wished to say, everyone could tell he was about to compare William to an animal.

William laughed as if he had received a flattering compliment and rested a hand on his chest, bowing, "You honour me with your kind words, My Prince. I am glad you find me so suited to my position, after all, my role requires certain aspects normal men may find... beyond their capabilities."

"So quick to humble yourself." Tristan’s gaze darkened as Elias turned to him, "Just like another I find... similar to you." The room went silent once more, an awkward one this time, as no one understood what to say or do in the moment. Finally, Oscar Doyle stepped forward, pushing up his glasses.

"Your Highness, if you would excuse me. I must prepare for the consequences of William’s action." Turning to the man, Oscar carried on, "I can’t be sure what the clergy will do in other ways, but I do know they will stop paying taxes. Lord Clover suffered a similar thing when he began his suppression of the clergy."

"Who said anything about suppressing the clergy. We are dealing with criminals." William quickly said, getting a roll of the eyes from Oscar.

"Your highness, whatever we want to call this, the results will be the same." Elias nodded.

"Do what you must. Bring a report to Lord Decaon to look over." Elias’s gaze changed, turning to the old chancellor, seeing him as a person rather than soemthing less. "I trust you can sort out any final details."

"Leave it to me, Your Highness. I will have a final draft ready for you. However, I advise you to allow me to contact the Judiciary with evidence of Cardinal Browns Crimes. I understand Lord Elvissia has declared for Prince Brandon, but his reputation as the church’s patron means he cannot turn a blind eye to corruption that has allowed a foreign heresy to grow." Elías frowned but relented, giving a nod. Lord Deacon and Oscar shared a look, with Oscar bowing and leaving afterwards.

"Is that all?" Elías was the one to ask this time. Seeing no one wish to speak, he finally allowed them all to be dismissed. Vincent was the first to bow and leave, almost running away. Next was William, followed by Lord Deacon. Standing to the side, Tristan watched as Elias leaned back into the throne, closing his eyes.

Mabel walked over and smiled, indicating for him to follow. Tristan was about to but stopped remembering soemthing. "Your Highness." Elías opened his eyes and looked at Tristan, clicking his tongue. "I can’t be sure what it is, but Annabell spotted someone in the palace before. Invisible to the naked eye, but she was sure they were there, hidden in the shadows. According to her, they had a similar presence to that of Ser Halls."

"And what does that mean?" Elías asked with an angered tone.

"They had a northern feel to them. I can’t explain it, all she said was it felt ancient." Elias sighed and rubbed his face.

"The Deadlands do not care for the politics south of the divide. Your dove was mistaken." Tristan could feel Annabell about to shout in protest, but stopped her at the final moment. Smiling, he bowed and walked off, followed by Mabel. Peeking back, Tristan could see Elias getting himself comfortable on the throne. With a sigh, they left, and when the door closed, Tristan dropped his pleasing smile, revealing the blank expression that was real.

"He has gotten worse." Tristan quietly said to Mabel, making her shake her head.

"In a time of war, it is normal for whoever sits on the throne to be slightly paranoid. And his questioning of William was normal. He may have had an answer that was suitable, but it was a matter he should have brought up to His Grace." Mabel said in defence of Elias, half-heartedly believing it herself. Tristan looked back, making sure Elias couldn’t hear them, even so far apart from them.

"Mabel. There is paranoia, and then there was that. Can you honestly tell me that how he looked at most of us was normal? William is his ally, and yet he openly mocked and insulted him." Mabel smiled, suppressing her anger.

"I am trying, Tristan." Saying through gritted teeth, she took a deep breath, "Lord Deacon and I will be able to rein in his worst aspects, I assure you."

"Mabel." Tristan paused and turned to face her. Staring deep into her eyes, he sighed, "I want to trust that you have that ability, but the dangers of the merging process are unpredictable. When does it get to the point that he looks at you, his own sister, with the same gaze that doesn’t see you as human? Before it was contained, but the moment he got the throne, restraint had been lost."

"Tristan, he is still my brother and your future king." Mabel said with a sharp tone, "You’d better remember that." Tristan clenched his fists and took a few breaths, holding back the words he wished to say.

"I never forget that, which is why I am terrified of him. A man who can’t view people as human with absolute power is a future that I fear." Tristan paused and looked down. "Do you remember the hypothetical I gave when we first spoke on the patio?" Mabel inched closer to Tristan.

"Tristan, I believe I warned you to never repeat that."

"Mabel. If, God forbid, something happened to the king while he is on the battlefield, or to you or Matthew, can you be sure it wouldn’t be the breaking point? What happens when the final pillars that keep him as him are gone? Who can make sure he doesn’t break?" Mabel stared deep into Tristan’s eyes, glaring at him dangerously.

"He will be fine," Mabel said, warning Tristan but trying to reassure herself. Tristan faintly smiled. A bitter one as he shook his head.

"Kinslayers are cursed, Mabel." Mabel’s hand shot out, grabbing Tristan by the throat. For a second, she held him, but her grip loosened, and her hand fell.

"Don’t." With a shaking voice, she sighed, "Please don’t remind me." Tristan watched as the confidence she always carried herself with collapsed. Lifting a hand, he paused for a second, pulling it away.

"I’m sorry." Turning, he began to walk off, holding his head low.

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