Tale of Four

Outside the room, Andre left with his children, leaving Brandon and Ester alone. Staring at them, Brandon didn’t notice Ester peeking towards him with a strange gaze. "My- Brandon," Ester called out to him, finally getting his attention. Looking down at her, she met his cold gaze and subtly flinched.

"What is Ester?" The woman sighed and nodded for him to follow. Slowly, they walked through the Hampton Palace, Ester looking around, admiring the artworks that filled the halls.

"I’ve been wondering. You’re a smart man, Brandon; lord knows you were running the kingdom for long enough." Ester said with a joking tone. Getting shot a hard glare, he spoke.

"Enough." Brandon said with a cold voice, "Get to the point."

Sighing, she nodded, "What is it?" She paused and contemplated how to word what she wanted to know. "The Blackwells. What is it that eats at you? I just don’t understand, Brandon. You don’t even hate the Carters this much, and they have been the ones to declare the most rebellions on our family in its history. So why the Blackwells? What have they done or do that you can’t stand? You’re hardly religious, so don’t give me that as the excuse." Bradnon stayed silent for a moment. His index finger twitched as he stared ahead.

"In the Dester uprising, it was strange." He finally spoke with a low voice, "I had been negotiating with lord Carter at the moment. Over the course of a month, he changed. Whilst not friendly, he was open to negotiation, but I sensed a shift. He was closing off to me. I fled the desert, which proved correct as he rebelled two weeks later. But I couldn’t understand it. What was it that changed? I looked into it and found soemthing. An envoy from House Fletcher had arrived in Saltpoint."

Ester raised an eyebrow, "So it’s suspicions they caused the rebellion?"

"Partly. I know that a large amount of gold entered Carter’s hands from the Twin Peaks. But it wasn’t proof of wrongdoing. Everything on paper was legitimate. There were goods purchased; therefore, it can’t be said that they funded the rebellion." Brandon shook his head. "But gold isn’t enough. The Blackwells must have said soemthing to Carter. A man doesn’t make a one-eighty on negotiations without cause, especially when it was a rebellion that had no support outside the desert."

"Is that it?" Ester said with a raised eyebrow, "Surely you jest; I mean, that is normal for those greedy lords. It just sounds like the Blackwells seized an opportunity to weaken us." Brandon reached up and grabbed his monocle. Taking out a handkerchief from his pocket, he slowly wiped it.

"Yes, if that was it, I understand. But it isn’t. I looked into the Blackwells, all the history, even that which can’t be easily gotten. When they were Blood Kings, when they first bent the knee. Everything. I studied how they attacked; I studied their power. I spoke to the Magi. Some had managed to get their hands on those with Blackwell blood and study them in depth." His eyes gleamed with a sinister light, making Ester forget to breathe. "Their power is insidious, because it is perfect to kill without knowing they were involved." Brandon met her gaze. "They killed Elias and his children. The worst thing is I can’t prove it. My job was to protect him from our enemies. If I couldn’t, I had to punish those who did. And I have failed Ester."

"Brandon, you’re lying." Brandon didn’t entertain her accusation, continuing to clean his monocle. Her lip quivered, realising he was certain of it. "They really did? Why?" Brandon looked away, holding hi monocule up. Happy with how he cleaned it, he slipped it back onto his face and fiddled with it until it comfortably sat on his face.

"Until recently I hadn’t been sure." They carried on walking, heading deeper into the manor. "Throughout our history, I couldn’t understand why they were so antagonistic towards our family, but during that." His face twisted in hate. "Tournament, Azikial saw soemthing. Lady Blackwell prayed to a God. Everyone knows they believe in a Heretical god even if they say they follow the orthodox faith. But I wondered. What is it that can’t be reasonably explained? Think for a second. An entire dynasty over eight hundred years hasn’t dropped a feud. Logically thinking, this is impossible. Not a single Blackwell head strayed from the path. So how do you explain it?"

Ester’s eyes widened, realising Brandon’s point. "It’s religiously motivated. But why? Because the Church of the Creator was made the official pantheon of Veston, but that is rather weak. After all, why do they not have, in your words, a feud with the Elvissia’s or the Sunflare’s?" Brandon took a few breaths and shook his head.

"I’m not clear. The records only go so far back, and then only a few can be truly trusted. I tried to find those Elvissia may have, but I couldn’t get them. So I used what I had. The Magi always keep in-depth records of their studies; it’s just a matter of finding the right one. Those who had Blackwell samples did very good research and passed it down from student to student, trying to understand it. Blackwell blood is different from a normal person’s, apparently. They have a... power, engraved into it, one they couldn’t decipher. That was the first thing. A power that Magi can’t explain."

Brandon closed his eyes. "Then their history. Blood Kings. Each Blackwell head always takes a name that starts with V. I checked; if they didn’t have one from birth, they would inherit one on the occasion they became family head." The two turned a corner and stopped outside the room Elsa and Ellie were inside. "Valentine. A city named after the first Blood King. The more you look into him, the more you realise there is nothing to find. That doesn’t apply to any other Great Lord bar the Ravens. It’s been forcefully covered up. And then it struck me. Right before my eyes, inside the territory Valentine sits. House Fletcher’s family motto. What is it?"

Ester took a sharp breath. "Servant of the Saint."

"King Valentine Blackwell. Saint Valentine Blackwell, it matters not. What matters is he is a man whose entire history has been covered up. Someone whose history Elvissia refuses to provide any documentation on. Someone whose name has been scrubbed from Remembrance’s archives. As for why I assume they are the Saint, well, the Magi siad so themselves. The power in their blood can’t be deciphered. For people who chase knowledge until they are mad, being unable to understand soemthing. It means they are looking at the works of a being beyond them. In my personal opinion anyway."

Ester gulped and stared at Brandon. He said everything so easily, but she wondered how long it took to find everything and piece it together. Even now, she understood this quest for the truth was still ongoing, his newest theory only forming from an event not even a year ago. It was at least a decade’s worth of work.

’You ask how they can hold a feud for 800 years, Brandon, but you’re just as mad. How are you still looking?’ Ester didn’t voice it aloud and shook her head hearing him speak again.

"Now that is not enough. I believe they are the descendants of some Saint from a heretical God, but it doesn’t explain why they hate us. And once again the answer was so clear." Brandon grabbed his monocle and adjusted it, making the torchlight hit in a way that hid his eye. "What is the grandest name for the throne, Ester?"

Her mind wandered to the Ivory Throne. Her breath got caught in her throat, releasing the answer, "The dead god throne."

Brandon clapped his hands. "A saint, a feud, and a throne said to be made of a god’s bones. No wonder they hate us. How the throne came to be, I have no clue, but I can take a guess whose bones the throne is."

"We turned their god into a chair," Ester said with horror and looked at Brandon. His slow nod was enough for her to understand his reasoning. "No, no. Surely not. How... It makes no sense."

"We know for a fact the Gods exist. The Elvissia family and the Sunflare family are proof. If the Ravens are to be believed, their Gods live on this land still. Using this, the War of the Pantheon, the rebellion of the Gods against the Lord of Creation and those loyal to him, happened. We can say it is a fact. At some point, the Blackwells’ god died and was turned into a throne. Our founder found it or was gifted it and decided to make it his throne; it dosne’t matter. All that matters is we are a constant source of hatred for them. A hatred that follows no logic because it is purely built on faith." Although his lips didn’t move, Ester could tell he was trying to smile. "Tell me, Ester, am I paranoid about an enemy that isn’t real, or does my theory make some sense to you?"

Ester wanted to say he was crazy but couldn’t. Although part of it was guesswork, she couldn’t deny that it was logical even if absurd. But the fact that Brandon, a man she knew, had no faith in the Gods, was using it as his argument, compelled her more to believe him.

"Think on it." Brandon finished and opened the doors. Walking in, he saw Ellie and Elsa leaning against one another, quietly reading. They looked up and beamed with smiles seeing him. Crouching down, he took them into a deep hug and tightly squeezed them, almost afraid of letting them go.

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