Tristan sat around under the table in the middle of the Hegde Mazes, only the roses that lined every part of it watching him and the two Royal Children. Over the week, he had slowly been feeding Elias and Mabel, Cillians ' theory on the Blackwells, using the tournament as an excuse, knowing the Lady of Bridgeway would be coming.
"The Twns of Fertility are coming?" Elias asked Mabel with a raised eyebrow. Tristan leaned forward. He had heard the name given to the Lord Clover and his twin sister, a title given as both a compliment for the strong power they inherited from their bloodline and an insult for the amount of bastard offspring their pair had spread across the realm.
Mabel sighed and grabbed her head, "Yeah, them, Lady Blackwell, Lord Sunflare and Lord Makepiece." Her fingers bound on the table, "Although Lord Alkaris supports father, he can't make it and all the Lords of the Dester refuse to participate becuase of the Urpising. As for the North and Lord Elvissia, they are self-explanatory."
Tristan silently listened and fell into thought. The North was obvious, all the Lords rarely coming down south, whilst the Lord of the Judicary usually refuses to take part in soemthing they would consider an earthly pleasure. As for the Clover twins, even if they didn't support Anton over Brandon, they always took part in such events, even if they hated whoever hosted them.
"The Blackwells, are they really coming. I don't feel they would support Anton." Tristan siad making the two eyes chill.
"The Lady of Bridegway was one of the people who cast a vote for my father. It isn't a surprise they would come to at least save face." Mabel said being the one of the two with more knowledge on the matter.
"Still, I don't trust them. Our ancient enemy is so close to us at such a turbulent time. Although you can dismiss it, I would advise having someone watch them. I've looked into the Blackwells history; they have no reason to be friendly, even if it is the Cosmaton they voted for on the throne." The two narrowed their gazes and slowly nodded. Over a week of being drip-fed, Tristan's concerns about his fears of blood magic and the Blackwells ' ambitions slowly came around.
Although he could tell they wondered how he knew so much and why he was suddenly scared of them, they didn't completely brush it off, having hardly known much about him in the first place. 'They likely believe it is soemthing I always believed. After all, it isn't a strange belief for a Cosmaton.'
His biggest gamble over the week was planting the death of his parents on the Blackwells. Although he didn't say it outright, he planted the idea, and slowly began to believe it himself. After all, from what he knew of his parents from outside voices, they didn't have many enemies in the palace. Otherwise, it didn't make sense that he could have lived for long, even with the method he had chosen to protect himself. Added to that, it could have been the trial run he had suggested to Cillian.
'If what Cillian said is true, then Brandon would have caught on to the threat to my parents before they died and had the means to stop it, had it been an internal dispute. He already said his desire is to protect the family, which included them.'
"The Blackwells are dangerous, I agree with you, Tristan." Elias spoke up, his cold gaze slowly morphing into a raging fire, "But there is nothing we can do."
"Have you tried telling the King your concerns?"
"Who are you to assume he doesn't already have them, if we do?" Elias siad with a low tone, "My father knows danger better than any of us will. Is it not our place to be concerned or worried for him?" Elias took a deep breath, and Mabel cut in before Tristan could say soemthing to annoy him further.
"Father can't just focus on the Blackwells. Even if he distrusts them, his hands are tied until they act. If they don't, then what is he meant to do? Arrest and execute them on false charges. If he did that, there is no telling what the other Great Lords may do; even his staunchest allies in Epton would turn on him." Tristan suppressed the urge to click his tongue.
Although he wished they would take his concerns more seriously, there was only so much he could do without explicitly telling them Cillian's findings. He desperately wanted to, but some of the knowledge given to him was soemthing a Princeling would have never gotten alone without outside help or through illegal means. At best, they would find the connection between the two and dismiss him as Cillians' and Brandon's puppet, and at worst, he could be arrested for espionage.
"I understand." Tristan dropped the topic, knowing it wouldn't get him any further, "The dance we must have, Princess." Mabel's gaze narrowed at its mention, "Have you gotten an excuse in mind for why you accepted it?"
Mabel clicked her tongue and shot Elias a look, wondering why he was forcing her to do soemthing she didn't want, and looked away, knowing it wasn't her job to complain, only help her brother. "During our spar, we formed a small friendship, based around mutual love for the sword. It's easy to dismiss if someone knows you well enough, but at face value, it makes sense why I would be willing to dance with you. However, what we have is only a friendship, no love, no attraction, pure friendship. Am I clear?"
Tristan thinly smiled, "A friendship is much less dangerous for me than being an object of your desire, Princess. That is fine." Placing a hand on his chest, he lowered his head, "If anyone probes deep enough, I know enough to be able to pass as someone who loves the sword."
"But, someone who does wouldn't shy away from the jousts and melees, cousin?" Elias said with a cunning glare, "How can you love it and refuse to use one?"
"Because I am a pacifist at heart who enjoys the beauty of the sword, not the violence. If people ask, I will say my enjoyment is a romanticised view of knighthood." Tristan said smoothly, his lies coming out easily. Elias rolled his eyes whilst Mabel chuckled, finding it entertaining that Tristan always had an answer to escape.
"Fine." Elias groaned and stood up, "Do what you want?" Walking off, Mabel quickly stood up to follow, but stopped when she saw her brother didn't wish for her to. Taking a seat again, she looked around and nodded that their meeting was fine in such a private location.
Once Elias was completely gone, Mabel's mood shifted, her gaze getting sharper, "Why are you so adamant on us warning father about the Blackwells?" Tristan didn't hide his shock, knowing that it was only a matter of time before they caught on.
"Why are you asking when your brother leaves?" Mabel stared at him and took a sip of the tea in front of her.
"Because your warning about him and the merging with his summon stuck with me. It's not that I don't trust him, but I don't wish for soemthing to aggravate those emotions. Knowing you are trying to deceive him to warn father will only make it worse." Tristan nodded and smiled, leaning back.
"Becuase I have studied the Blackwells recently, and I have noticed they are strangely unambitious compared to other houses over the past centuries." Clasping his hands together, his smile dropped, revealing his true face that hid behind it, "The facts don't lie, and a house that has had such a long feud with our own doesn't simply shy away after getting a bloody nose. They remember and strike back, yet the Blackwells haven't."
"The Red Rebellion. That was hundreds of years ago. Your warning us based on a war that is long history." Mabel said with slight disappointment.
"I'm warning you based on what came after it. A century to rebuild and gather their strength again can explain a drop in activity for a time, but that still leaves two hundred years unaccounted for. For the Blackwells to be even quieter than the other Great Houses is strange, no." Tristan said, making Mabel look down, her index finger bouncing up and down with her thoughts.
"You sound like my uncle." Her voice was quiet as she told herself, "But we have nothing. Even when you said your parents may have been the victims of their schemes, you brought no proof."
"That was a mere guess based on what I know." Tristan took a deep breath, ready to play his most dangerous card, "How did the previous king and his children die, Mabel?" Mabel looked up with narrowed eyes, inside them a deep suspicion.
"Illness."
"How many of our family members die from illness. Maybe as babes we do, but at such an age, it is still rare. But a man who couldn't be considered old. And his children, if they were alive still, would be what, five to ten years older than us. Cosmaton's rarely dies at that age from illness; we both know that. In fact, we hardly get ill." Tristan said and watched as Mabel ran through the theory in her mind, frowning every few seconds, her eyes widening and closing with it.
"You can't be saying what I think you are?"
"Ancient tales say that Blackwells used plagues and diseases as a weapon alongside their Blood Magic. It's just an observation, one that the man everyone believes is the smartest in the Palace has made himself. Why would he hate the Blackwells so much after all?" Mabel rose.
"Brandon ordered you to do this?"
"No, it's all my own theory." Tristan stood up, "I have spent over a decade watching people, Mabel, learning to read them and understand how they feel without ever saying a word to them. I have read hundreds of books in the libraries over the years and read the history of our family and the other Great lords, at least what is available to me." His tone was low but confident, believing every word he said, "You may not trust Bradon, Princess, but I asked him if he had ambition for the throne when he met me. Do you know what he replied?"
Mabel's frown deepened, shaking her head, "I serve the dynasty, not myself. My beliefs may mean nothing to you, but I believe those words. Now, on the assumption that what he said is true, what would cause him to hate the Blackwells?"
"A threat to the family, which is real." Mabel quietly said, "But as you said, your belief means nothing. I believe he serves the family, but unlike you, I am practical enough to know that serving the family means he has a more stable position should he wish to take the throne from my father." Mabel slowly walked forward, taking Tristan's side, "I will judge myself if the Blackwell problem is as serious as you claim, but in the meantime, drop it. Stop trying to get me and my brother to do your bidding whilst hiding behind theories. If you really want me to act right now, I need undeniable proof of everything you have said. Otherwise, I've had enough of your mind games."
With her final words, she brushed past Tristan's shoulder and walked off. Looking to the ground tristan frowned. Although part of Mabel believed him, he could tell it was covered in the same distrust she had of Brandon, a suspicion in her that he was being used by him to forward the agenda.
'How openly has Brandon hated them for people to refuse to act on his words?' It perplexed him. Brandon was a man everyone called the smartest in the family, a man whom Anton knew was both the Bookkeeper and the real head of the Shadow Chamber. Even with that, the information he revealed provided him it meant that Brandon's hate was so strong that concerns he was blinded by it were arising, or the Blackwells had hidden themselves so well, they were making him look crazy by hiding all the proof.
'Either way, if this conspiracy is real, then they have effectively made their greatest enemy a raging mad man.'