“We could’ve learned so much more from them if it had not all burned during your conquest.” He growled. Wesley wracked his brain trying to think what Lord this was. His face was not familiar, but surely if he was allowed into the castle, he had a crest. Wesley looked for some sign on him.
“Who are you?” the King growled, looking at the young man. He smiled and bowed, his gestures fluid and beautiful.
“I am Sir Aldemo Davide. I am from the northern province of Acreage. One of your so-called civilized settlements, Vole. We came when we heard that our Majesty the Great King of Templaria was on trial for treason. Who would think to not come and show their support?” he said, straightening up with a smile. His blonde hair swayed as he pulled his wife next to him. “I had hoped for a ball to announce my beautiful bride to the Court, but please welcome Lady Michalina all the same.”
People stared. This energy shift was sudden and jarring, leaving most people uncertain. Helen stepped forth smiling and offered a hand to Michalina. Michalina’s dark eyes looked at the outstretched gloved hand, unsure. Serena walked over next to Helen and Michalina’s eyes fell to her. She stared at Serena’s skin, her dark eyes, and ebony hair.
“I’m Lady Serena. This is Lady Helen. I promise you. She’s the best friend you could ask for.” Serena said with a smile.
“Thank you,” Michalina said, her Acrean accent thick. She took Helen’s hand and the three of them walked over to the women’s seats.
“Such a splendid welcome. Just warms your heart.” Aldemo continued.
“If you would. We’d like to continue with the trial at hand.” Snapped the General.
“Of course. I come bearing a gift for the King.” He said, his hand slipping inside his breast pocket. He pulled out an envelope and walked to the King. The grin on his face did not waiver as he presented it to the King, who glowered at him.
“What is it?” The King snapped.
“An article of treason. I refused to not have my grievances heard before the court.” He said before stepping back. The King nearly yelled out, frustrated by the newest voice against him. Relief swam over Wesley. It felt like the ancestors blessed them with a new ally just in time.
“And what are your claims?” the General asked.
“I am so glad you asked. Q!” he yelled out. A guard walked over with a bag swung over his shoulder. Adelmo took the bag and smiled.
“Thank you, Q,” he said. Q grunted before walking off. Aldemo then opened the bag and looked around in it.
“It’s in your pocket, Al!” Michalina chimed in. Aldemo smiled and checked his pocket. He pulled out a piece of paper and smiled, blowing a kiss to his wife.
“I’d lose my head without her.” He chuckled as he opened the page. Quickly his eyes scanned the page before he nodded and turned the bag upside down. From the bag spilled out bones. Human bones. Wesley looked at them, noticing the size. Most seemed to be adolescents with a few younger children.
Gasps rang out around the room.
“Ancestors!” were common murmurs.
“What blasphemy is this?” the General asked.
“Why, I am just bringing the King’s children home to him.” Aldemo grinned. “All seven beautiful babies murdered by their father.”
Outrage erupted as people yelled. Aldemo rose, his voice louder than the crowd.
“Emilia Merriweather age seventeen… Ivin Merriweather age five…” he announced the room, quieting into stunned silence. “Nathan Merriweather age ten… Ophelia Merriweather age eight… Kerian Merriweather age twelve… Vivian Merriweather age fourteen… and little Caspian Merriweather age three.” Aldemo looked up from the page in his hand, his face losing the smile. He fisted the page, his glare darkening the lines on his face. “Now what did little Caspian do to deserve such a fate? Murdered in his own bed by the Royal Guards sent to keep an eye on him. Exiled to the northern settlements for being a bastard heir.”
The King seemed confused for several moments before looking at the General. The General’s face showed worry for a second. Wesley spotted it, feeling a lump in his throat as he connected the dots. They were supposed to be dead long before reaching even the age of three. The General was stashing substitutes in the north and then killing them when he realized they were of no use or too hard to train.
“Outlandish claims!” the General yelled. “You dare desecrate the graves of children for this lie.”
Aldemo pulled a stack of folded pages from his other breast pocket, neatly tied together.
“Here are the orders for the death of the children. Signed by the General himself on the King’s order.” Aldemo announced, holding them up. The council waved him over to give them the letters. Aldemo handed them off. “Now I must ask. Was it their skin that made you hate them so? The fact they were bastard children born to Acrean women?”
“You have no right to question the King! Those letters are fake!” the General snapped.
“The council will review the authenticity of these letters. We will need the General’s seal box to compare.” Said Patrick speaking as head of the council. He pointed to a guard.
Sam.
“Go to the General’s office and retrieve the box now.”
Sam looked to the King, who nodded, his face pale.
“May we properly bury the children?” Aldemo asked.
“Not until we can prove these claims. If they indeed had royal blood, they shall be honored in the royal tomb with their brethren.” Patrick explained. Aldemo nodded.
“How do you know about all of this?” the General asked. “Who are you but a simple noble of the north?”
“The Davide family line is an ancient one to Templaria. Most of my family lives in Templaria, but I moved to Acreage after the victory to help with the settlements in the north. Vole just happens to be the settlement I oversee and the same one his children were sent to. I do not know if there are others still alive or other bodies hidden in the snow of the mountains. I can only speak for these seven innocent souls.” Aldemo explained.
They did not wait long as Sam walked in with a wooden box. Everyone watched, the anticipation thickening the air. Sam placed the box on the table before the council. Patrick opened it and pulled out the General’s seal. The group whispered amongst themselves as they compared it to the seal on the letters. Several tense minutes passed before Patrick stood and spoke.
“The letters appear authentic.”
Again, the room erupted into yelling. Men and women alike stood yelling at the King and General. It grew so bad that the guards were quickly called in.
“We’ll bury the children today. We’ll reconvene in two days!” yelled Patrick.
“Two days!” Wesley yelled. Two days gave too much time for this to die down. They needed to press on and stop the King now before more Lords turned up dead.
Daryl walked over to Wesley.
“Is this real? Are those really my siblings?” Daryl asked. Wesley looked at Daryl.
“I’m sorry to say they are my Prince,” Aldemo said. Daryl shook his head. “They were kind children. I think they would’ve liked to know you.”
“Thank you for bringing them home,” Daryl said.
“Two days is too long to wait.” Wesley inserted.
“No one will forget. When they watch the bones entombed, it will only anger them more. We are close to winning Captain.” Aldemo grinned as guards ushered the people out.
Wesley watched Serena leave with the others.
“I should oversee their burials,” Wesley said, turning. Daryl grabbed his arm.
“You need to sleep before you collapse.”
“A few more hours and I will. We’ll talk soon.” Wesley said, turning and walking out of the hall.
A hand snatched his throat, pinning him to the wall.
“We need to talk,” growled his father.
Chapter Fifteen
Serena
Back at Helen’s Michalina and Serena sat at the small round table as Helen poured tea. The
air felt suffocating as no one talked. Aldemo stood off to the side, watching.
“Will Wilma and-” Serena started.
“Wesley will see to their affairs. They wanted to stay together, so James got them a room in the castle while their houses are fixed.” Helen said. “They’ll be alright.”
“I hope so,” Serena said. The doors opened and Henry walked in. He shook Aldemo’s hand. Serena noticed Aldemo’s smaller stature for a Templarian man.
“Would you like some sandwiches?” Helen asked, drawing her attention.
“I’m sorry my Templarian is bad,” Michalina said, stumbling over her words.
“I’ll apologize ahead. My Acrean is not as versed as it should be.” Helen said in Acrean. Serena stared.
“Wait! You didn’t tell me you spoke Acrean!” Serena chimed in with Acrean. The syllables rolling comfortably off her tongue.
“You never asked,” Helen explained, her accent thick in Acrean, but mostly she spoke it well.
“You speak well Helen.” Michalina chimed in. “If I may. How is there another Acrean at court? I was told the court was only for Templarians.”
Helen let out a laugh. “It was a complicated madder.”
“Matter,” Serena corrected. Helen’s face looked confused before realizing her blunder in Acrean. “I’m a mercenary. I joined to help with the war with the Samorians and have to play Lady since I am at court.”
“You leave out the best parts. She’s betrothed to Wesley, Captain of the Guards.” Helen said.
“Oh, really?” Aldemo asked in Acrean. “Spawn of the General?”
“He isn’t the General.” Serena inserted. “He’s faced as much if not more misdeeds by his father.”
“It’s just a precarious position you find yourself in,” Aldemo explained.
“Your position is precarious as well. Showing up and creating such a spectacle. You have balls.” Serena commented. Michalina laughed as Aldemo looked at her. A look passed between the two. One that held a full conversation. Michalina nodded.
“Seems Michalina already agrees you all are friendly, and I wish to be comfortable,” Aldemo said. “Seeing as how we’re already speaking in Acrean, you should understand the term, two-spirit.”
Serena smiled, recognizing the meaning. Aldemo was neither a man nor a woman. Instead, they were a person without gender. Two spirits in one person.
“Few feel safe enough to identify as two-spirit, especially in these times,” Serena said. “I am glad to have your trust.” She remarked gently, raising her hand to her forehead where she placed her fingers before outstretching the hand to Aldemo.
“I am lucky I present as male.” Aldemo grinned before mirroring her gesture.
“In the north, it is much more common. We’ve preserved as much as we can of Acrean culture.” Michalina explained.
“Do you have temples?” Serena blurted.
“Small ones. Nothing like the cities in the south had, but it’s something. Someday it would honor me to show you. Who do you worship?”
“Altara,”
“Fitting for a mercenary, but why not Midhor God of war and love?”
“Altara has always been my companion.”
Michalina nodded and looked at Helen, who slowly caught up.
“What pronouns do you prefer?” Helen asked, finding her voice.
“They, them, theirs but in public in the south please use he, him, his. It’s too dangerous, and I’ve already done a good job of putting a target on my back.” They returned.
“Of course,” Helen smiled. “We keep each other safe in this home, so don’t worry about any target. We carry knives and brandy.”
Aldemo laughed again.
“A perfect pair.” They chuckled.
“We’re happy to have you,” Henry said, walking over with a bottle of brandy and two glasses.
“You carry the good kind too.” Aldemo grinned, eager to have a glass. The two poured glasses and cheered as the women turned to other matters.
“So, tell us more about the north.” Helen began.
“It’s cold, but the people are full of this sense of community. Everyone looks out for everyone else. The settlements are more like way stations between various communities than cities. My family has lived in the north for a long time. We serve Wixora while Aldemo is more inclined to Altara like you.” Michalina explained.
“Why is that?” Serena asked, looking over.
“I’ve danced with death my entire life. She’s warmed me more nights than I can count.”
“Sometimes it is life that is cruel, and death that is peaceful,” Serena said. Aldemo nodded their head, holding her eyes in theirs.
“Life is but an affair with death. Death is an unbreakable promise.”
Serena nodded, recognizing the same story in their eyes. They too knew a life of constant danger. Of hiding who they were for their safety. Of living a lie.
A knock on the door broke the concentration of the room. Henry opened the door and James walked inside. He smiled at the group.
“I’m glad to see you all are well,” he said. “Wesley asked me to give you something.”
James held out an envelope, smiling.
Serena took it, uncertain what Wesley would send her. She opened the envelope, staring at the page inside.
Informant Gwayne aka Executioner approached the Guards to inform about the location of Master Assassin Adrian, aka Scythe.
“This…” she stared at it, knowing this piece of paper would change everything. “He found it!” Serena smiled; a laugh caught in her throat. Her lungs filled with air and she felt for the first time in a while like she could breathe. Things seemed to be going in their favor, finally.
“I want to show Sam. He’ll be so excited!” she grinned. James watched her.
“I can escort you,” he offered.
“I’m fine. Thank Wesley for me!” she said, rushing to her feet. Optimism settled into her bones as she slung on a cloak. It seemed impossible for the King to come up with something to trump the events of the trial. How could he explain the killing of his children? Even if they were bastards, it did not matter. The bones were too hard for anyone to ignore.
Serena pulled up the hood of her cloak and walked out of the cottage. The clean, crisp air filled her lungs as she moved with optimism back into the halls. At first, she felt unsure where to find Sam. She decided to ask Daryl, as he was most likely to know the whereabouts of his father’s guards and she did not want to wander close to the King.
She reached the doors and knocked, waiting for several moments. Without an answer, she opened the door and could hear muffled groaning. Worry fueled her onward as she pulled the dagger from her leg and moved towards the bedroom. She listened closely, trying to understand the strange groans and moans from the room. Steeling herself to defend Daryl, she kicked the door open to stare at a sight she never wanted to see.
Sam was on top of Daryl, engaged in carnal activities.
“Serena!” yelled Daryl as their eyes landed on her. He pushed Sam aside, making sure the blankets covered them.
“Fuck no,” she breathed, turning around.
“Serena!” yelled Daryl as she headed for the door. Sam was up with an assassin’s speed pants on as he slammed the door shut. His sweaty arm next to her head.
“Stop,” Sam growled. Uncomfortable so close to Sam, Serena slipped away from him and turned to Daryl, who stood wrapped in the blankets. He held them tight, staring at her.
“I-” he began. She turned to Sam.
“What in Altara’s name are you doing?”
“What did it look like I was doing?” Sam grinned.
“You wanted to lecture me about Wesley, and you decide to screw the Prince? The King’s killed all his other lovers. What stupidity makes you think this was a good idea? How long has this been going on?”
“Since I was ordered to keep an eye on Daryl,” Sam said nonchalantly. “You can’t hate me for having other interests than you.”
>
“I can hate you for jeopardizing everything! What’s the plan here? Break both your hearts? He will be crowned King! You could never even be his consort!” Serena exclaimed.
“And why not?”
“Would you really give up the assassins for court politics?”
“I almost gave it up for you, didn’t I?”
“Is this what you really want?”
“I don’t know yet. Daryl and I have only just begun to explore-”
“The King could be convicted any day now! Daryl would be crowned, and you’d have to decide then.” Serena growled. She held out the paper in her hand.
He took it, reading over the words and staring at her.
“You know I don’t want the mantle of Master, but that gives you the option to take it.” She stated.
“What is that?” Daryl asked, walking over.
“It proves Gwayne is the traitor. With this, I could take control of the guild.” Sam announced.
“It’s what you want,” Daryl said. Sam turned to Daryl, and Serena saw the look on Sam’s face. One she knew well. This wasn’t fake. This wasn’t a trick. He genuinely cared for the Prince.
Sam grabbed Daryl’s face in his hands and kissed him.
“I want you at the moment. Tomorrow we can discuss this.” He said, shoving it into his pant pocket.
“Be careful. Both of you,” Serena sighed, walking off into the hall. Her mind once again woke with hundreds of concerns about this new development. A part of her wished the two happiness, but she knew Sam. He changed. She didn’t think he wanted love. Not like how Daryl did. Not like Daryl deserved.
“Serena,” called a voice. She turned to look at James, who walked over to her. “Thank the ancestors. Wesley’s in trouble.”
“What do you mean in trouble?” Her heart raced as her muscles tensed for action.
“The General beat him pretty bad after the trial today. I didn’t want to move him alone.” James explained.
The Trial of a Tyrant: The Assassin of Acreage Book Two Page 15
