After leaving Mabel, Tristan slowly walked through the Palace, ready to eat, hearing his stomach quietly growling. The eyes that weren't present earlier reappeared the moment he stepped inside, each one carefully watching him. Expecting it to be there the entire day, he was shocked when he entered one of the many dining rooms of the Palace and found it empty.
Tristan froze and got ready to turn around and leave, but stopped and sighed, taking a seat and patiently waiting. His fears were confirmed a minute later when Brandon walked in, alongside him, a twenty-year-old man with a thin smile, eerily similar to his father's. "Oh, this is a surprise. I was told we wouldn't be joined by someone." Brandon said in fake shock, easily seen through as he looked around, "Cillian, take a seat. I will find some servants to serve us."
Brandon left as the tow stared at one another. Unlike his father, Cillian carried more of his mother's features, his hair a blend of gold and brown, looking more like someone dyed it trying to imitate a Cosmaton. Much like his sister, he had heterochromia, his left eye a deep black, his right one blue.
Tristan rose and placed his hand on his chest, bowing towards Cillian. Although there was no reason, the two officially sharing the same status as Princelings, he knew better than to believe they were of equal standing. "I greet the Princeling."
"Rise and sit," Cillian said with a wave of his hand, his thin smile like his father's, never vanishing, never letting anyone see his true feelings. 'He is like Brandon, but it's different. His gaze was warmer, less prying. Must be his mother's effect.' Cillian stared at Tristan from acorss the large table and smiled, leaning forward and resting his head on the back of his hands.
"My father has ordered me to get close to you." Tristan narrowed his gaze.
"Are you meant to be telling me this?" Tristan asked, unsure of what else to say. Cillian chuckled and shook his head.
"No, but it's quite obvious after this little play he pulled. Besides, what use is there in hiding it? There is no reason for me to ever talk to you if not for my father's orders." Cillian sincerely said, not hiding anything.
"Is that so? Why?" Tristan asked, knowing that Cillian was different to the others he met. There was an honesty in his words and eyes, born of a laziness in performing. Although Tristan was sure he could easily do it, the fake thin smile that hadn't cracked proved enough.
"Because he wants someone he can trust to form a personal relationship with you. My eldest sister would have been best, but she is promised to Prince Matthew. As for the other one. They are young, it would be pointless to ask them to do it." Cillian said in a relaxed tone. As he finished, servants walked in and laid out a feast before them, pouring glasses of wine for the two, before bowing and leaving. Brandon never returned, obviously completing what he wanted.
Cillian wasted no time starting his meal. He ate quickly, too fast to be considered polite, but his movements were graceful, never making a sound as he ate, carefully making sure not to make a mess. Tristan watched for a second and joined the man in his feast, his rumbling stomach finally hurt with the delicious-smelling food before him.
For five minutes, they sat silently, not a single sound made as they ate, only the sound of servants outside talking interrupting it. Patting down the sides of his mouth with a napkin, Tristan pushed the plate to the side and stared at Cillian as he looked back. Clicking his fingers, the door flew open, and servants walked in, taking the plates away, before leaving them again.
"Thank you for the meal," Tristan said, knowing the food was better than he usually ate because of Cillian.
"No need. It is always better to eat with another than alone after all." Fixing his sleeves, Cillain took a deep breath and leaned backwards, "So what do we talk about?"
"I am unsure, my Prince." Cillian rolled his eyes and stared at Tristan.
"Tell me, who is your favourite king from our family?" Cillain asked, finally landing on a topic that interested him. Tristan looked to the ceiling and thought about the 800-year-long reign of his family, recalling history lessons and the books he had read. Each war and development that his ancestors had achieved, their failures and successes.
"The stories about our founder are always interesting, but at this point it's hard to separate myth from reality." Tristan wrapped the end of the table and took a deep breath, "Probably Frederic 'The Shrewd.'" Tristan said, thinking of the sole Frederic to take the throne, the 27th king of Veston.
"Frederic, huh. Why?"
"Because his rule was fair, but not easy. He was strong but not a tyrant. After the Red Rebellions, he owed many Lords and the Clergy favours, and many would have been crushed by those obligations. He, however, played it perfectly for the cards he was dealt. If you can't fulfil every obligation, make a situation where those you owe can't force your hand." Tristan chuckled, "Yet even when he did that, playing the Great Lords against one another, he didn't resort to violence or tyranny."
Cillian chuckled and nodded, "My father made me study a lot of Frederic's reign, said it was a good example of diplomacy played at its highest form. His only problem with how Frederic handled the situation was that he didn't wipe out the Blackwells of Bridgeway and allowed them to continue as Great Lords."
Tristn shook his head, "You can't wipe out a Great Family so easily, especially one who use blood magic." Trisatn countered, "Besides, keeping the Blakcwells around allowed him to negotiate with all those whom he owed."
"Yes, but proving he can crush one Great Family is its own diplomacy. Prove you destroy the heathens of the Bridgeway and the Judicary would have forgotten their favour and supported him wholeheartedly." Cillain snapped back.
"For how long, though. Five years. Ten. Twenty. What about when Frederic is gone, and his actions are forgotten by the Elvissian family? What happens when a future rebellion happens, and you no longer have the Judiciary on your side opposing the Bridgeway? The Blackwells lived because they would always challenge the throne and, by extension, always create an ally for the Cosmatons." Tristan said, not releasing that he was being dragged into the conversation, wholeheartedly enjoying it.
"Yes, but Blood Magic poses danger beyond rebellion. It is an evil, heretical power that should not exist under our light. Sure, his actions allowed the uneasy alliance between Everlight and the Judiciary to continue, but it was short-sighted. The Blackwells have never been as weak as they were after the Red Rebellion. It was a chance to destroy a house which weilds supernatural powers, and we squandered it." Cillain said, also getting dragged into the conversation, his fake thin smile replaced by a real one.
"But what of the other great lords. They have seen us destroy one of their rivals. Sure, some may have been happy about it, but others would see the threat it poses. What if we are next? Some would ask." Tristan said. Not giving a chance for Cillian to speak, he carried on, "And then there are the bastards of the Blackwells after the rebellion. An enemy we can see is better than some bastard in a back alley, wielding power no longer visible to our eyes."
"Bastards cannot compare to a trueborn. Their power is weaker."
"Yes, but it would still exist. And then, with everything gone, what is stopping those Blackwell bastards from committing the gravest sin and intermarrying siblings to strengthen that power until it can rival a trueborn? If they aren't willing to go that far, there would have existed some lords with distant relations to the Blackwells who would have happily accepted them into the fold, just so they could monopolise that power. It may take longer than my former claim, but it would still exist." Cillian frowned.
"Even the most sane men and women wouldn't lie with their siblings."
"They may have been bastards, but some would have lived in luxury. If you have seen everything before you taken, your fathers and mothers executed, their wealth handed to their rivals, I think you do anything to get it back, even if it meant committing the vile act." Tristan said in a low voice. "And maybe a pair of full siblings wouldn't, but half siblings."
"But they are not stupid. Such actions carry significant risks. Even a farmer knows not to breed cattle that are so closely related." Cillian countered with an equally low voice.
"True, but desperation can make people do strange things. Of course, this is the most extreme case, but if Frederic acted as the Chancellor said, he would have been pushing the surviving Blackwells to such a position where it may have been the only way to keep hold of their family's power." Tristan leaned forward, "Besides, blood magic is different from the power our blood holds. Who is to say they didn't have ways to get around these issues?"
Cillian narrowed his gaze, "If that was the case, no Blackwell would ever marry outside their house? They may not make it public, but if every Blackwell showed up with a bastard, it would be obvious what they are doing."
"But they are the family who hate our family the most in the Realm. How can you be sure they haven't hidden it well?" Tristan countered, making Cillian fall silent as he began to think about soemthing separate to the conversation they were having.