Forced Into Tyranny

10: The Court and Courtiers

Thevalon Castle,
The Great Hall.

          The air inside the Great Hall of the castle was filled with the sound of revelry; laughters, chatters, claps, and even whispering voices of the gossiping matrons. The so called grand feast of the king had come, and it was in honor of the new moon. Tables were laden with food and drink. Musicians played and minstrels sang, and thick smoke of a hundred torches permeated the large space.
          Upon the grandest of thrones, sat the king, radiating an air of dominion and command. Encircled by his retinue, he observed his subjects endeavoring to amuse him. Beside him sat his mother, her countenance etched with fury. She found no mirth in it, indeed. Not in the minstrels, for they were skilled. Instead, she lamented the audacity of the uncultured mingling with nobles and rulers.
          One end of the hall was graced by stoic warrior slaves, standing tall, The other end danced the peerage.
          Never would the slaves and their masters partake in a shared meal, Raven could vow it, and so could the queen. No banquet or assembly would dare propose such a union, not after this one.
          United in their convictions, Raven and the Queen shared the same sentiment on two opposite sides of the hall. Raven would not subject his people to further humiliation; standing while the privileged sat upon chairs adorned with precious metals. And the Queen pledged to prevent her son from repeating the error of filling the castle with riffraff.
          The moment his and the Queen's gazes intertwined, their visages contorted into grim masks of fury. It seemed as if they possessed the uncanny ability to read each other's thoughts and pass silent threats across that vast expanse.
          You will fall on my blade, Raven's eyes said.
          And I shall have you executed, Morgana fired back.
          With a knowing smirk, they exchanged a daring grin. Raven then turned his back on her, striding away to resume his quest for Pillus Syagros, the foolish Mayor of Elderham and Lord of the lands of Torethan, the largest town in Elderham, where his reign would soon suffocate the bourgeoisie. His son, much like him, had been bestowed the title of lord over Oria, the third most populous town in Elderham. Together, their ambitions seemed to span the ages, intent on ruling Elderham until mortal flesh turned to dust. Raven harbored no fondness for the wretched old fool, that was for certain.
          On this day of unbound possibilities, the king declared a moment without titles, granting everyone the chance to be anything. As Raven was no longer bound by the chains of slavery, he roamed the castle's ground floor with newfound freedom, tirelessly searching for Syagros.
          Then, he ran into someone who caused him to feel a chill to his very bones. As a seasoned warrior, it took very little to make him flinch. But much to his terror, this girl, whom he vividly remembered from the arena five days prior, had that effect on him.
          Now faced with a dilemma, Raven couldn't determine her status or how to address her. Her attire spoke of wealth, and her graceful demeanor added to the mystery. It would be unwise to assume she was a slave or a commoner, yet he hesitated to address her as a lady, fearing he might offend if she were simply a well-to-do girl.
          As Raven pondered his next move, the girl caught sight of him and acknowledged his presence with a curt nod. Realizing that she was his only hope in locating Hecuba, he would be damned to let her out of his sight. He swiftly turned around with determination in his heart and hurried after her, his footsteps echoing through the corridor. Finally catching up, he came to an abrupt halt, gathering his thoughts before speaking.
          "Wait a moment!" he exclaimed, his voice demanding attention. Quickly realizing his approach might have been too intense, he softened his tone and continued, "I just have a quick question for you."
          Caught off guard by the deep and forceful nature of his tone, the girl turned around, finding herself face-to-face with him, mere meters away. It was hard to ignore his attire, which revealed that, despite the king's decree to forgo titles, he had never held any noble rank.
          The familiar drawl her Navarían maiden had exposed to her did not go unnoticed, for when they spoke, she would always be forced to listen. Navaríans had a special place in her heart. She might never stop feeling pity for them.
          "And what might that be?" she croaked, fear gripping her harder than the stern look on Raven's face. She took two slow steps back, just in case.
          The moment was here, he could not dally. "You were at the arena days ago," he began, and a flicker of recognition crossed her face as she squinted in response.
          "Yes, I remember you too. You were in that fight. And... oh no, you got hurt." She reached out to his arm, remembering where he had been wounded. "How is your arm?"
          "It's been through worse," Raven replied, pulling back slightly, cautious of any potential accusations from noblemen if they were caught too close in a lonely corridor. "Do not worry about me... uhm..."
          Noticing his desire to uncover her title and perhaps her name, she revealed, "I am Lady Lyra. Lyra Syagros."
          Just as the resounding bell in the Agora would announce the arrival of valuable goods, so did a foreboding bell chime inside his head at the mere mention of that name.
          Syagros.
          It all fell into place at once. Her eyes bore a striking resemblance to those of his second greatest foe, the first being the king's mother. Even her lips held a familiar allure. However, her patience and kindness set her apart from the ruthless fool. It came as no surprise that she had stood by Pillus in the arena, she was his daughter, and Hecuba was likely her own servant or perhaps Pillus's whore.
          Now, confusion and dread engulfed him. The fate of every Syagros was to be met with death and punishment for the sins committed by their head and his successor, Pillus and Thymotes. Anger momentarily overshadowed his curiosity about Hecuba as he mustered the courage to ask, "You are Pillus's daughter?"
          Alas, Lyra realized the grave and foolish error she had made by revealing her last name to one of the men who had suffered brutal wounds in a game orchestrated by her father.
          A heavy lump formed in her throat as she swallowed hard, feeling a wave of shame wash over her. She lowered her gaze, letting go of the grace that had once adorned her presence. "I am Lyra Syagros, Pillus's daughter, yes."
          A deadly silence swallowed the corridor, as if even the slightest sound would be incomprehensible to Raven's enraged mind. His anger deafened him, and his wounded heart yearned for retribution. The thought of tightening his grip around her throat, making Pillus suffer the loss just as his own mother had mourned him, brought a twisted sense of redemption.
          "What is it that you wanted to ask?" Lyra asked, her head still bowed in submission, and no longer shame.
          Raven contemplated wisely whether questioning her about Hecuba would lead him to his sister or prevent him from finding her. This girl, being a Syagros, could not be trusted. Her family name carried a haunting legacy that could not be overlooked. And yet, he could not deny the possibility that she might, at the moment, be the sole person capable of aiding him in his search for his sister.
          His heart wavered, torn between trusting her and venturing alone. The decision eluded him, leaving him to rely on time for clarity to emerge.
          "Walk with me," he suggested, devoid of the rage the had only recently tried to change him into a monster. "This corridor is not safe for a man like me to be conversing with a woman like you."
          The naive side of Lyra suppressed her common sense and she nodded, cautiously glancing around for the regal guards that should have been guarding this place. Perhaps they were indulging in drinks outside. "My father is currently engaged in a meeting with the seventeen Lords of Elderham in the throng hall, which is located opposite"—she pointed towards another intersecting passage—"the passage leading outside. I am unable to accompany you, but we can meet there."
          "East of the castle, there seems to be a quiet garden—"
          "No," she retorted, fully aware of the exact location he referred to, and having no desire to be involved with that expanse. It was the one situated just beneath her room window, where she had narrowly avoided a dangerous fall. Twice. "You are familiar with the Valcum?"
          He shook his head. He knew nowhere there and hoped she was smart enough to realize.
          "What of the Alabaster Temple, located north of the castle? It's a white structure that stands out prominently. You won't be able to miss it. Wait there for me. Tonight is a festive occasion, and no one would think to seek the gods. It will be a safe spot for you."
          Raven nodded and set off on his own, leaving Lyra behind to admire his retreating figure. She leaned against the wall, her chest heaving, her gaze fixed on his broad shoulders and the dark markings decorating his skin. It was the second time she had encountered such markings. The first was on the priestess in Khiortos. However, Raven's markings held no connection to the gods; they symbolized his prowess as a warrior.
          A very strong one, she noted before racing back to Hecuba's chambers. Monima was nowhere to be found, she had been busy with countless unnecessary tasks for days now and proved to be more of the king's maiden Lyra's. Hecuba, on the other hand, had just began her crimson week, which was the reason they had left the feast and retreated to her chambers to alleviate her pain. Lyra needed someone to accompany her, in case the man had sinister intentions and sought to harm her in a discreet location away from the guards' watchful eyes.
          Lyra pushed into Hecuba's room and, without caring if the girl was dying from the nagging lumbago, began to speak with urgency, "Can you walk, Hecuba? I need a companion to the Alabaster Temple where a man awaits me. He's a fighter in the arena and wants to ask a few questions."
          Hecuba's painstaking voice emerged from beneath her covers."You mustn't be so trusting, Milady. Fighter or priest, men are the same." Holding her belly, she turned to see Lyra. "Do not go. The night is dark and full of terrors."
          Lyra rolled her eyes, determined to go regardless. "Rest. And if Monima finds you, do not send her to me. She has been a bit secretive and I am starting to dread her presence." 
          "Oh, good gods. You are not going alone, are you? And if..."
          "Nothing will happen. My father keeps a pocket knife in the pocket of his robes. I know it's there, because I've seen him use it to trim his quills. I'll defend myself if I have to."
          Hecuba smiled with pride. "And I'll keep watch to make sure Monima doesn't go snooping."
          "That's more like it!  Now, if you'll excuse me, I have questions to answer. Rest well, and do not worry."

~~~

Thevalon Castle,
The Courtyard.

          "What is happening, Your Majesty?" inquired Lord Bailiff Syagros, casting his gaze about the surroundings of the courtyard to ensure no one was eavesdropping. "A week has past since her arrival at court, yet I see no signs of interest. You did assure me of your influence over your son."
          "The king," Queen Morgana corrected him, her face impassive. "The king's word is law. I may be his mother; I'm also his subject."
          "That was not the deal! As a fact of the matter, you seemed to forget that tiny detail during our last conversation. How much of a king he is and you his subject, instead of his controlling mother. Please, do not anger me." The stench of deception permeated the air. What would make a mere mayor speak to his queen in such tone. Certainly she herself had lowered the stakes. "If he does not wed her, I shall have no choice but to use my ultimate weapon."
          "Oh, please shut up, Pillus!" Morgana whirled around and paced away for fresh air before sauntering back to him. "Do not threaten me. You may have evidence of my treachery, I do not, however, answer to you." She cursed under her breath for letting this bastard bring a torch close to her ice. "This was a mutual agreement in the first place before you went into blackmail. Might I warn you that I work better without threats."
          "If you cannot stand the heat, Your Majesty," he started with a threatening tone, "you get out of the kitchen."
          Morgana felt her jaw tighten and her head swell. She needed to silence this bastard, but the question remained: how? If she pondered the timing, she would conclude that now was an opportune time. Then the method would come to mind. Poisoning him was not an option, for Pillus never partook of food or drink within the castle. Commanding the guards to slay him would prove futile, as he held his own army in his grasp and was always accompanied by at least three of them, mere paces away. Dispatching a woman to seduce and assassinate him seemed least probable. Pillus may have been many terrible things, but a womanizer he was not.
          "Give me time. That's all I need," Morgana's words oozed with disdain. She clutched her tightly cinched dress, pulling at it, desperate to avoid suffocation.
          Pillus held the monarchs firmly in his grip. Even if Morgana refrained from telling her children how Syagros manipulated her like a marionette, she acknowledged it within herself. Yet, she knew all too well the searing intensity of a fire concealed beneath a cloak.
          "A fortnight," he proposed. "The peerage is abuzz with rumors. I am the mayor of Elderham, and when there is unrest in the city of nobility where I govern, I begin to develop dark circles."
          A bastard he was, so it was little wonder why even men of his rank cared so little for his head stumbling down a set of stairs.
          Morgana breathed out a regretful sigh. "In two weeks, your desired wedding date shall be granted."
          "Finally, you speak my language," he said with a smile. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, Your Majesty." Suddenly, he halted and turned back around. "And... the moon, it casts a splendid glow upon you. Briefly, I forgot your wretchedness. Teresson's words for you, only the gods know. Beautiful? Treacherous? Deceptive, or perhaps the devil incarnate."
          "Silence!" Her voice echoed with fury, capable of thawing even the iciest of lands. "He who fights with monsters must guard against becoming one himself. And when you peer too long into an abyss, the abyss also peers into you."
          Pillus responded with a chuckle, walking away, shaking his head in pity for her. "I have plenty of secrets, certainly, but your shovel is too short to dig them out."
          Then, he disappeared into the night.
          Morgana had uncomfortably been reminded of the sins of her past. Well, not so long ago, she had committed the gravest sin any mother or human being could ever commit. If Pillus dared to provoke her again, his end would mirror Teresson's story, or perhaps even worse, as her son still saw the light of night. Pillus, however, would only see the darkness of his demise.