The Evergreen was so large it looked as if it were a crown atop a hill's head. The castle boasted two walls, the inner higher than the outer boundary, housing the keep. The palace, made of white-stone, reached high, looking as if it were a cathedral. Of course, to the young Prince Leon, the castle was always a small world.
"When will they arrive?"
"Soon," said his father. "Uncle Fren will arrive soon enough… why do you ask?"
He took his cup and drank. Both sat inside a warm chamber, a fire burning and light passing through the glass window, but only the boy felt chilled. "I'm excited is all. How long has it been since I've seen him, father—two, three years?"
"Five—Four for your cousins, Alan and Lys. You remember their visit, don't you?"
"Of course."
As Leon drank another sip of water, his father inched closer to the door, feet tapping on the ground and fingers restlessly fidgeting his belt. "It's cramped in here," said he. "Perhaps we take our talk to the courtyard, hm?"
"It chills outside. Even if it's summer, it feels like winter." He took his coat nonetheless and out the door they went, passing by a great hall, filled with their banners left and right, and the ceiling nearly five men high.
"Your mother's been lighting her candles again," said the king. "I've always smelled beeswax… it's different now—more fruit… perhaps blueberry."
"What about oranges?"
He thought for a while, taking in a whiff of the hall's air. "Orange… or maybe lime. I have no knowledge of candles, though," he admitted, laughing at the thought. "I may be a king but I am no candlemaker."
Leon smiled dearly. The large door, framed with silver and built with wood, partnered with slits of glass, swung open as his father pulled a lever. The sounds of gears and clangs filled the atmosphere as they slowly gave way. Finally, they saw the courtyard in front of them, filled with mazes of shrubbery and flowers, often roses red, marigolds yellow, and violets blue.
The sun was not in their favor, and the clouds covered the skies, yet blue pockets still let a little light through, making the white-stone paths shine. Below them, apart from the servants that cleaned the floors and trimmed bushes, many men, women, and children also roamed the castle's yard.
"Our family loves gears, don't they?" asked the prince, stepping out with his father. "It's all gears, screws, and pulleys in this castle."
"Indeed, it is. But those gears, screws, and pulleys are what sets us apart from other families."
"Perhaps." He nestled his hands inside his pockets as his breath turned to steam in the cold. "The Mudmurk in the Mirelands fancies its dams and wheels. The Hound's Keep sits hanging at the edge of a cliff but stands the largest of them all. Many keeps are as unique as ours."
"None of them are as full of life."
"Most of them aren't," he replied, smiling as they reached a roofed arch, its walls decorated with writings and art carved by the builders many centuries ago.
From the distance came a lord, younger than most, his hair short, black and dotted white. His face resembled a man of forty, but he was only thirty-and-five. "Your grace," he greeted, bowing from his hip. "I have troubling news from Ser Doros of the City Watch. I would be in favor if we are to meet at the Spire with the rest of the council to handle this."
"Where's the Chancellor?" asked the king, moving a step closer to him. "Why is it you who's come to summon me there, Lord Tygan?"
The lord held his tongue. "Your grace… it seems that your brother has taken a… predicament within the alleys of the Green City. It would be wise if we do not discuss… here."
His eyes locked with his lord servant. "How severe?"
The Master of Whisperers tapped their fingers upon each one. "Your grace, please understand—"
"How severe?"
The lord leaned closer, whispering within the king's ear. At once, the man sent him off. "You may take your leave, Lord Tygan. See to it that the Council Chamber is lit well. Summon Ser Harryn and Ser Doros for me as well."
"As your grace commands."
Leon no longer leaned against the wall. "What happened, father?"
The king's gaze was focused as he thought of what to do. "You will follow me to the Spire and you will join the Small Council," he ordered. "You will need no quill nor book. You will watch and you will learn."
The prince crossed his arms as they walked. "I've been to plenty of gatherings. You sat me down at a meeting two days ago about the wild tribes in the Leafy Stumps."
"That I did." The king admired the skies for a moment. "This one's different. You're no longer a boy now, Leon. You've grown a ripe eighteen, and men handle harder things than boys."
The Spire was taller than anything else within the keep. It stands on a foundation of solid stone, risen to conquer the skies of the Evergreen's keep and piercing the morning's fog with its pointed roof—decorated with golden trails and a large gold pearl at its tip.
Inside the tower, the Council Chamber was placed neatly at the top, with a secondary entrance stemming from a long bridge from there to the King's Chambers. Leon knew this well—not because he had seen it since he was a boy, but rather the plenty of times he climbed high on it.
As both father and son entered the chamber filled with paintings and luxuries, Lord Tygan was already waiting for them, along with the rest of the lords and knights.
"Your grace," he greeted, bowing from the neck. "I understand you might be in a state of shock. I have pleaded with our lords to perhaps discuss all of this in the morrow."
"All of this will be discussed today," the king replied, stepping closer to the old, tall knight of gold and white armor that stood near his chair. "Ser Hywel," he laughed. "I trust your journey to the Eastfort has been treacherous. How's fortifications coming against the Maple Tribe?"
"Well enough, your grace," replied the knight. Swiftly, he revealed his blade from his hilt. "Ember has been stained many times."
From the other end of the table, a lord of near the king's age inched closer, dressed with a black frock with trousers of brown, his head adorned with a green chaperon. "I've hoped to meet you, your grace," said he. "Mossyhall is more cold than warm, and I am fond of the capital's scenery."
"I've heard you've let your nephew run the castle, Lord Darwin," the king remarked. "You think that wise, my Lawmaster?"
"Odrich will run it well." The lord held a small book in his hand. "He may be young, but he will manage when I am gone."
Below both of them sat a young lord of thirty-five, who had black locks of hair that flowed nicely, as was the same for his king. His jerkin of lapis-blue contrasted well with his red tippet. "You've ruled well, old friend."
"There's my Finn!" The king opened his arms as the man stood and embraced him. "I've been missing my Purse for days. Why'd you go to Wysand Keep, hm? Taken a faith in the white dragon, I presume."
The lord laughed. "Not me—my son. Ecco fancies the white dragon. He's gone off to be taught, and his trial began three days ago."
"The white dragon has the most trials, my lord," Leon remarked. "I've read it many times in my books. So much wonder in the dragons of our world."
The lord nodded. "Still the same scholar you were then, my prince."
"In sooth."
From beyond them, the doors opened as two guards stepped aside.
It was by then that Ser Doros of the City's Watch entered the chambers. The commander of the watch wore simple padded armor underneath, layered with chainmail and protected by knee guards and a breastplate of green and white steel.
"My lords, your grace, have I arrived late?"
"Not at all," said Ser Hywel. "Take a seat."
It took a while for the lords to settle down, but when the king sat, the rest of the lords did as he had done. At once, Lord Darwin ordered his chalice to be filled with wine, Lord Finn had taken his quill to write, and Ser Hywel had sat quietly.
"We may start, my lords," the king declared. "I believe it's best Lord Tygan will speak first."
Lord Finn stopped his writing. "Without the Chancellor?".
"Precisely is the matter," said the Master of Whisperers. "Ser Doros has informed me that the Chancellor faced unforeseen acts in the alleys of the Backrow. He has been murdered."
The lords at once felt uneased.
Uncle Mycael… dead? The prince grew lightheaded. He was second to his father, after all, as the powerful man in the kingdom. Leon loved him… my second father, he once told himself.
"Our sincerest condolences, your grace," Lord Darwin remarked.
The king nodded. "It's accepted, my lord… what of progress taken by the Watch?"
"No corpses." The commander of the City's Watch seemed relaxed. "Piles of ash and molten steel—six of them scattered. The watchers take it as likely to be the remains of our Lord Chancellor and five others."
"Are you saying they burned my uncle, Ser?"
The knight thought of what to say. "My prince… your uncle's demise is still of dispute—"
"Your Chancellor's demise. How could the Watch let this pass?" The prince's hand slammed against the table. "Six men burned and no man, woman, or child heard the screams of soldiers or even saw the men on fire?"
"They did, my prince," Lord Tygan explained. "Only too late. By the time a man would've seen, they were already burning… he'd simply run and wail to call the watchers nearby."
"If there were any watchers nearby… I do not discredit you now, Ser Doros, but I do doubt the Watch's ability to keep the king's peace." The prince took a sip from his glass—water, not wine. "Again, how could you have let this pass?" The prince pressed on.
"Perhaps the Watch should've had more men." Lord Darwin set his chalice down upon the table. "The Green City's fallen to disrepair. It's all madness—whores, drunkards, rogues… and now the king's own brother dies. I do trust Ser Doros should take care of this if he wishes to remain commander."
"Logistics may be a problem as well," Lord Finn added. "Even if we supply them with men, the watch is useless if the men themselves aren't put to use—"
"My brother is dead!" Silence fell on them all from the king's glass shattered on the stone floor. "I will not believe that they burned my brother with impunity. I will not stand to see this go nowhere and have the crown lose its grip. Most of all, I will not allow the man who killed my brother to remain free."
The Commander of the City's Watch quivered.
"I'm sure Ser Doros has taken care of himself these past few years." The prince's eyes glared at the knight. "Have you so kindly done anything since you were made commander?"
None spoke.
The king smiled. "Answer with truth. I will see to it that the records of the Watch will be seen by this council. Hope that you don't have a clean page."
Every single one of their tongues were then hidden behind their teeth. The Master of Whisperers tapped his fingers on each other once again. Lord Finn's eyes did not sway from his old friend's raging mind, and even the strong Master of Guard, Ser Hywel, said nothing.
"What can we do to find the man?" asked the king.
"Perhaps a bounty and a hunt, your grace," the Lord of Whisperers proposed. "The common folk are easily swayed by golden scales. The hunters for the bounty will be very much swayed."
"Make it a thousand." Leon clenched his fist below the table. My uncle is worth more than that… I am sure Ser Doros knew.
"As your grace commands," replied the lord. "Can the treasury afford such an expense?"
Lord Finn did not look at the lord but kept writing on a piece of parchment. "The purse will not be seen bankrupt from an expense of a thousand golden scales. Have faith."
"We do, truly," the prince answered. "Thank you, Lord Finn."
"Ser Hywel, you may be placed as head of this manhunt," the king ordered. "The Eastfort has been fortified, as you have said. I hope there is no ill news from the Maple Tribe. Lord Tygan?"
"None to worry about, your grace. The tribes have fallen back east of the Leafy Stumps. Their days are numbered."
The king nodded. "Do you accept your newfound duty?"
"I will do as your grace bids," the knight answered. "The man who murdered your brother and this council's Lord Chancellor will have Ember be the last thing he sees."
"Good. You will hire thirty able men and ride three days from now." The king twisted his ring. "Scour as much of the city and the surrounding towns—Fertilville, Riverside—all of them. Go past the Springroad if you wish but stop at Humble Inn south. We don't want to enter foreign land."
King Gabriel waited for another word to be said, but it seemed to him the lords were done talking. "If there is no more, my lords…" The king stood from his chair, and the rest followed. "You may take your leave. Ser Hywel, you will accompany me tonight outside the courtyard. Make sure the City's Watch will join us for our preparation—armed."
"What do you plan, your grace?"
The king smiled and grit his teeth. "A hunt. We will prey on the foul and make it known that it's fatal to commit crimes against us."
"What would you have me do?" The prince looked at his father, who put out the candles upon the table. "I am useless here at the Evergreen if you are to leave. The Council cannot operate without a Lord Chancellor—"
"Indeed, it can't," his father replied, smiling at his son. "Put your knowledge to good use. You've attended so many meetings… it's about time you led one. I appoint you Lord Chancellor in your uncle's stead until I find myself another."
Leon's eyes grew wide. "I will not fail you." I hope I don't, he said inside his mind. It would be a shame… indeed a large disappointment.
"Don't," the king ordered. "Make sure this council doesn't burn. My brother nearly did the first time he led. He had to learn… you've been learning for so long… Rule."