Chapter 19: A Discussion of Ghosts

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Image -- Rough approximation of King Terrell.

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The sky is a murky grey, as though all life had been sucked out of it. Its usually brilliant blue and gold hues are pale and muted. It seems to be responding to my mood—turbulent and sombre. Every time I turn around a corner, I jump at the slightest disturbance. My nerves really have been betraying me as of late.

I can't help it, I know. For the first time in my life, I feel fear—real, undulating fear. An actual wraith has been sighted within castle grounds, and what's worse is that Diomedes is coming. For me. With every passing second, I'm more and more convinced that Abner told the truth—that Diomedes has resurrected himself. Who else would have the audacity to revive the Dark Arts? A long-lost disciple? Perhaps, but I highly doubt that he had a disciple in the first place.

As my boots make sinking imprints into the mud, my mind runs through the brawl I had with the ghost again and again. The feeling of my windpipe being crushed under the ghost's relentless grip, the knowledge that you are about to meet your doom flashing before your eyes, the inability to fight back...

"Squire Rutherland!"

My mind snaps back into focus. I make a mental promise to myself that I won't allow myself to wallow in self-pity. The voice comes from a court herald, the one whom I'd first seen the day when Gilbert and I were supposed to meet for the first council of war.

"His Royal Majesty requires your immediate presence," he says in between puffing gasps, obviously trying to recover from the winded effort it took to catch up with me.

A sigh escapes my lips. I was about to ask for an immediate audience with the king anyway. With a strengthened gait, I follow the herald into the inner ring, saluting the guards on watch duty during the uneventful afternoon. Their extremely bored expressions hint that they would rather have a ghost invading the castle grounds during their patrol duty than pace about like an angry lion on a leash.

Once again, I am led into the decrepit, seemingly abandoned room (code name: flying cabbages). I suddenly realise that I will be left as the only Champion-cum-squire to face a council of the most influential and wealthy men in Perinus. After our conversation, I went out to fetch Galennus Haelen, who was twiddling his thumbs nervously in the reception room of the Galennus workhouse, his assistant boy nowhere in sight. The physician later shooed me out of his workroom in horror when he'd realised that his patient had fallen asleep from exhaustion, presumably because I was the culprit who had expended all of Gilbert's remaining energies.

With a shudder, it dawns upon me that Gilbert's presence has been a comfort to me in the council. I wasn't the only one who had to withstand all the pressure the lords and barons impressed upon the Champions. Now though, I'd have to answer for not one, but two people, when I already have trouble defending myself.

The herald pushes the doors open, and announces my arrival in a clear baritone. I drop onto one knee, murmuring the customary respects one is supposed to pay to the king. With the words 'Arise, squire', I take my seat.

True, I'd just admitted it, yet the sight of the empty seat across me still sends spindly nerves crawling all over me. The veil of calmness I barely managed to wrench back seems like it would slip through my fingers once more. I gulp nervously and try to look as nonchalant as possible.

The council starts as soon as I am seated. King Terrell looks calm and composed as he readies to conduct the meeting. However, I notice faint worry-creases forming at the corners of his mouth. Straightening his posture, he says, "Noblemen, today our fortress has witnessed an alarming alacrity—a ghost has invaded the outer ring during an assessment for knights and squires organised by the Knights of Elder."

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