You were not satisfied with committing those follies alone; you had to outdo yourself by inviting that idiot for a drink.
King Renardin of Grianz tapped the ground repeatedly with his right foot while sitting on his throne. He still couldn't believe that Zeham's report could outrage him even more than the untimely intrusion into his privacy.
What were you thinking, Charlen?
He clenched his only hand into a fist, struggling to contain his anger with every second he waited to confront his old friend.
A fleeting glow spread from below. As its brilliance dissipated, the king could distinguish Zeham and the two men he had ordered him to find standing before the platform of his throne.
"Your Majesty," the agent said, "here they are."
"I can tell," the king said to Zeham, not hiding his bad mood. "Dismissed, Zeham."
The general of the Order of Lebias complied, nodding slightly. He moved away from the mentioned individuals, observing them one last time over his shoulder before leaving them alone in the hall.
What’s up with his uniform?This was the king's first thought upon noticing the abundant wine stains on Chatel Chatel's clothes. Does he even have the nerve to bring it dirty?
"Renardin." Chatel Chatel locked eyes with the king. His face reflected an equally great displeasure.
This man is Renardin... the King of Grianz and Netzach. Although he couldn't have the same feelings towards him as his Grianzan counterpart, Mavros was captivated by the image of the monarch on his throne. Undoubtedly, he exuded power... perhaps exaggerated in his opinion.
His... His right arm!
That detail didn't escape his dilated pupils. Even from that distance, he could perceive what it truly was.
"Where is Minister Batrand?" Chatel Chatel challenged, daring to break the wall of silence that had come between them. "She's the one who asked you to summon me, right?"
"Where else?" the king responded with equal force, but in Grianzan, his mother tongue. "What makes you think I needed her request to undo your colossal folly?"
The General and the knight furrowed their brows.
"Undo?" Charlen lashed out. "You haven't...?!"91Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0QFTqb72rj
"Of course I have! I've canceled your arrest order! Have you gone mad, Charlen?!" The king silenced him, shouting louder. "I've tolerated your disagreements with my cabinet all these years, but today you've sunk too low..." He touched his forehead, turning his head in disappointment. "Arresting Lady Jan’s and Ser Maxilan’s sons without any justification; worthy warriors of the homeland..."
Without any justification?! 'Worthy warriors of the homeland'?! Chatel Chatel was about to vehemently refute such claims.
But Mavros beat him to it:
"Verily, I know not what tidings thy agents hath conveyed unto thee, ThyMajesty, but thou were not present. Thou art grievously mistaken in proclaiming the arrest as unjust." He spoke in their shared language, with a solid yet calm determination that astonished the General.
And also King Renardin.
"You..."
The king pointed at him accusingly.
"So, you are this 'knight'..." He gave a scornful smile. "I see you're very proud to have sabotaged my Holy Warriors."
"Those Holy Warriors did abuse their power," contended Mavros. "They didst humiliate and attempt to extort merchants in the open gaze of all. Mine code didst compel me to halt such ignoble conduct."
"Your 'code'?"
The king struck his armrest.
"You piece of amoron! Who are you to mock the laws of Grianz, of Netzach?" he reprimanded, shifting his gaze between him and the General. "Those 'merchants' you defended are desert heretics, puny scum you've allowed in! Thanks to both of you, they roam now free in the city!"
"Whether they are Ayarians or not, those merchants' papers were in order, and they had authentic trade permits from the League of Viceroyalties," Chatel Chatel replied, switching to Grianzan, knowing now that his protege also understood it. "There was no reason to deny them entry. The accusations made against them by Sublieutenant Batrand and Lieutenants Cotores were shameful, utterly false. Knowing this, do you still want to defend them? Do you not care that they violate the laws of the League with impunity, laws you swore to uphold?"
Chatel Chatel pointed his right index finger like a dagger.
"The only ones mocking the law are you and your ministers, Renardin!"
Charlen, you… Stung by those remarks, the king's lips twisted into a grotesque grimace that revealed his teeth, grinding as he struggled to find a fitting response.
But ultimately, he decided to unleash his anger with short, cynical laughter.
"Why should I bother to adhere to those laws to the letter when our enemies trample on them?" he questioned. "The mere fact that scum managed to get those permits at this time is too suspicious. Docemin and the Cotorestwins were right! Not letting them set foot in Netzach was the only right choice!" he asserted. He fixed his eyes on the wandering knight. "And if you insist on turning this into a legality contest, it's undeniable that this fool committed the serious offense of raising his hand against a kingdom official unprovoked, even if it was to prevent a supposed 'injustice.'" He returned his gaze to his general. "Charlen, your incompetence is worthy of total degradation, but because of who you are, I'll grant you a chance of redemption." He pointed at Mavros. "Arrest him immediately and then do the same with those heretic merchants."
It's useless…The General lowered his head, shaking it in disappointment. His friend's impulsiveness and pride were greater than he had anticipated.
Is he seriously considering it? Mavros wondered, fearing it as seconds passed, but he remained silent. I have no right to protest to him, he admitted, closing his eyes in resignation.Because of me, I've implicated him and his family. I don't regret giving those wretches what they deserved, but if there are consequences, I am the only one who should suffer them.
"So, Charlen? Will you do it or not?" the king called, starting to lose patience. "Don't force me to send you to the dungeons as well..."
The General raised his gaze again, fixing it on the king.
"I will investigate those merchants," he announced. "I already had plans to do so even before you ordered me."
No… Mavros lamented. His fears were beginning to materialize.
"But you won't be able to arrest and order a trial for this knight."
Both Mavros and Renardin raised their eyebrows.
"Why?" Renardin questioned, starting to get irritated again.
"He, Ser Marlon of Amberfalls, has come from afar to register as an independent competitor in the Eh-Nam Tournament."
Eh-Nam Tournament?! The knight turned to him, even more astonished to hear him bring up that topic.
"An independent competitor?" the king asked, genuinely curious, observing Mavros. “Is that true?”
"Yes, verily, it is so," he nodded a couple of times, somewhat awkwardly. "In truth, that's mine chief cause for venturing unto Netzach..."
Renardin burst into laughter.
"Please! I can’t believe your arrogance! Don't make me laugh!" he retorted. "Independent competitors in the Tournament can be counted on the fingers for a good reason: they are either pretentious fools or low-life desperate criminals. Cannon fodder for the new generations of Holy Warriors!"
However, the king’s enthusiasm gradually faded as he understood what his friend was implying.
"That's it," Chatel Chatel said. "Every subject guilty of a crime that doesn't involve rape or murder has the right to request, as penance, an independent slot in the nearest martial arts tournament to the scene of the crime. It's the Fifth Path of Atonement of the Blinitaka, the Sacred Word." He shifted his gaze towards Mavros, with utmost solemnity. "Ser Marlon, do you dare to exercise it?"
Mavros was about to nod but...
Every 'guilty subject'… He hesitated for a moment. Although the opportunity to secure his coveted ticket to the tournament had just presented itself, it also meant acknowledging that he had indeed committed a crime and must be judged for it, something he certainly couldn't agree with.
"Yes," he finally said. After all, there didn't seem to be a better option. He addressed the king. "I remain steadfast in my willingness to partake in the tournament, regardless of the prevailing circumstances."
This isn’t a joke? The king opened his mouth slightly, not sure what to think.
It was the most delirious and surreal thing he had seen and heard in years, but nevertheless, the "guilty party" was determined, oblivious to what he was getting into.
An 'independent' with little sense and a criminal at the same time. Not every year do we see something like this in the Eh-Nam Tournament. He grinned from ear to ear. Despite the somewhat absurd nature of the punishment, he saw more pros than cons in this proposal.
"Congratulations. an independent slot will be granted to you in the Eh-Nam Tournament, Ser Marlon," the king announced. "The trial will no longer be in the courts, but in the arena. Your fate will now be in the hands of Eh-Nam and our Lord Maskirio." He looked at the General. "Charlen, you will be responsible for guarding him until the day of his participation. Do not fail me again."
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***
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In the reception of a quiet inn, a lanky man in formal attire adjusted his round glasses, sitting at his polished wooden desk. He read and flipped through what seemed to be an account book, adding new entries and annotations with his quill.
Suddenly, he heard the doors of the establishment open. Ready to attend to potential guests, he rose from the desk to appear at the counter.
"Good morning." He greeted one of them, whom he identified as the leader of their group. "Welcome to the Vallinton of Netzach, travelers," the receptionist warmly welcomed him and his companions, regardless of their unusual faces for the area. "How may I assist you?"
"We want a room for the entire Maskirian Week."
The receptionist searched a bit in the labeled slots of his key cabinet.
"You've arrived just in time, I have one room left that suits your needs," he announced. "I'll leave it at one hundred and ten griancs per night."
With their prolonged silence, the customers expressed their lack of conviction.
"That's beyond the very heavens. Can you offer us something closer to the ground?" their leader replied, starting the bargaining ritual. "Forty-four."
The bespectacled receptionist furrowed his brow slightly.
"We're not a charity, but today I'll make an exception for you," he responded. "Ninety, no more, no less."
"If you're touching the empire of the stars, why not descend all the way?" the customer countered. "Eighty-eight."
We've been waiting for you. An approving gesture appeared on the receptionist's face. He retrieved a key from the cabinet and handed it over.
88. That number was inscribed on a small keychain accompanying it.
Instead of money, the customer gave something else in return: a small scroll. The receptionist discreetly unrolled it and deciphered its hidden message.
Its first line was enough to summarize it:
"The Abiyr has reappeared."
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