The elongated throne room of Gratia's palace was filled with whispers and murmurs today as well. They seeped into the heavy blue curtains covering the two-story-high windows behind the throne and clung to Aetrian's official robes, weighing him down like boulders tied to his body.
Two days had passed since the monster attack on the plaza had happened and not one hour of it had been peaceful for Aetrian. As if it wasn't enough that the events repeated themselves over and over in his head like a hell loop designed to torture his guilty conscience, the nobles were using the disturbance during Elanthin's speech to attack the treaty itself.
And this man might just be the worst of them all, Aetrian thought annoyed, while scrutinizing the lavish appearance of Royven Dyrre. It was hard to believe that the young man in front of him had once opposed his father's decision to officially become a vassal of Gratia, since he spent his days happily between the capital's taverns and playhouses nowadays. These were the places he chose to steadily ignore his inherited duties in.
As if his irresponsibility wasn't enough to render him an undesirable person in the eyes of Gratia's royal family, he kept company with Aetrian's favorite opposition: the Grace of Gratia.
"Rise, duke Dyrre."
The strawberry-blond man pushed himself up from the floor, on which he'd knelt respectfully. His moves were elegant, but his clothes were scraping on the border between expensive and distasteful.
As adorned with golden ivy as they are, his shoulders must feel as heavy as mine, thought Aetrian. A futile attempt of impressing the onlookers, since Royven's lack of taste made his attire seem gaudy at most. Still, as the only heir to the dukedom of Dyrre, the largest and most independent vassal state of Gratia before the joining of the Forlorn Plains, he wasn't someone that Aetrian could afford to overlook.
"What brings you to my court today?"
Even though Aetrian had to ask because of the protocol, he didn't need to. It was easy to assess what the heir wanted from him, especially since he was wearing a blue flower corsage on his robes.
"Thank you for receiving my request, Your Majesty. I won't waste your time: The dukedom of Dyrre formally demands a swift trial and merciless judgement to revenge the victims of the plaza massacre."
"And who could it be that you want to be tried? The investigation hasn't yielded an official culprit yet."
Again, an unnecessary question with an expected response. Aetrian felt like screaming, since his noble-filled court was the last place he wanted to be at currently – but he had no choice. This was part of his job, no matter how much he loathed to see the greedy eyes rest on his face or hear the whispers behind his back. Aetrian knew that diplomacy had always been his brother's strength; and despite his efforts to replace the lost firstborn, he would never grow as fond of quarreling with Gratia's nobles as his brother had been.
"Forgive my insolence, Your Majesty, but it's clear to see who was behind this attack. Before we allowed the Veritans to cross our borders and allied ourselves with queen Elanthin, there hadn't been any monsters beyond the Eternal Barrier in almost three hundred years."
Royven looked around the room as if he expected applause from like-minded nobles. Some seemed inclined to humor him, but Aetrian's next words were enough to shut his attention-grabbing down.
"Is it clear?"
Some of the onlookers flinched together with the young duke upon hearing the sharp undertone in Aetrian's voice. Their king had leaned forward on his throne.
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Verita - The Guardian of Darkness
الخيال (فانتازيا)300 years ago, a bloody war was ravaging the continent. People were divided between the two houses of Gratia and Verita, who fought each other for resources, land and glory. Built upon the rubble of those days, the kingdom of Gratia stands tall. It...
