The great doors of the courtroom groaned open, their iron hinges dragging a heavy sound across the chamber.
A cold hush swept the air as Ragaleon stepped in. His presence seemed to draw a dark aura with him—his scarlet black cloak trailing against the stone floor, a golden crown firmly rooted to his head.
The small council, who had been waiting in tense silence, immediately rose to their feet. Chairs scraped back in hurried unison, their movements sharp and stiff, as though compelled by an unseen hand. None dared speak. None dared breathe too deeply.
Ragaleon's eyes swept across their faces and then to the table where maps and parchments lay. The weight of his gaze was enough to make the air feel heavy. His aura pressed down on the room, swallowing the light, making every man feel smaller, weaker, as though they were standing before judgment itself.
His footsteps echoed as he approached, each strike of his boot echoing in the silent room.
When he reached the head of the table, he stopped and, without a word, took his seat, the knights he had walked in with standing at both sides of the chair.
"Sit," he commanded, his voice low but carrying the weight of a thousand soldiers.
The council obeyed at once, but their eyes never met his.
Brandon, however, didn't take his seat.
His voice was deep as he began…
"The streets of Decreesh cry in blood." He started off.
"There are unknown assassins invading the perimeters of the village." He added, tapping his fingers lightly on the table.
"Unknown?" Josiah mimicked with a mocking tone.
"There is nothing unknown about those bloodthirsty savages; it is obvious they were sent from Galveston." He added with clenched jaws.
"Allow him to hit the nail on the head before cutting in, Josiah." Drigo the dark, bald fellow argues with scorn. Josiah swallowed the remaining words hanging on his throat before turning to gaze at Brandon.
"Josiah doesn't speak far from the truth. Galvestone is our primary suspect, but from the leads I have gotten, his assumptions are wrong." Brandon retorted, rising to his feet.
He continued walking around the table.
The sound of his shoe clicking on the floor echoed.
The council watched him with wary eyes as he circled, slow and thoughtful. At last, he stopped before the great map that sprawled across the table, its surface crowded with markers of kingdoms, fortresses, and marching lines.
With a calculated calm, Brandon leaned forward, his shadow stretched over the map. Then, with one finger, he tapped on a single point—once, sharply, so that the sound cracked through the silence.
"The king of Galveston, Kyron, has his armies marching towards the south. Two days ago I sent some spies, and I got leading information that he camped at the southwest of this region." Brandon said, still moving his hand around the map.
Josiah creased his brows…
"That doesn't make any sense." He says, adjusting in his chair, he clasped his hands in front of him on the table.
"I thought as much; that is why I sent for the members of the council with urgency." Brandon said before walking back to his chair.
The air in the courtroom grew heavier still, every council member now waiting for what Ragaleon had to say.
"What doesn't make sense to me is the fact that you had two spies sent after King Tyrion without my knowledge." Ragaleon said calmly, not sparing Brandon a gaze.
Brandon was short on words.
"It didn't seem right to let my intentions be known without validation from my informants….
"I have every right to know your every single move; it concerns the affairs of this kingdom, and it is my burden to shoulder!
Ragaleon's tone was deadly.
Brandon lowered his gaze…
"I have wronged you, my lord. Spare your humble hand." He said with a practiced tone. Ragaleon didn't even spare him a glare; he rose to his feet.
"Kyron Lamarck is clearly playing little games. He moves within the district leading to the south, yet there is news of death lurking within the streets of Decreash." Ragaleon's voice boomed across the room, loud and clear.
"I am sorry for interrupting, my lord." Drigo says, signifying he had something to say. Ragaleon didn't like being interrupted, but he saw Drigo as a responsible and sagacious man, so he held his peace.
"Go on." Ragaleon urged him.
"The path Kyron seems to be taking is that leading to Nehoviah. If my predictions are right, he is going to settle scores with King Titran and his wife, Amber, for their lack of fulfillment of their words." Drigo said, and the hall was quiet before the sound of mocking laughter was heard.
Priest Tailbon's laughter was short… Then he began to stroke his mustache.
"You speak on assumptions, not certainty. It could be a trick; Kyron wants to mislead us, and it is working."
"For once I agree with Tailbon; we cannot be too sure. Kyron has scores to settle with Decreash for the death of his daughter Yumi." Brandon added
"So you are saying a king with five thousand armies will march to the south, enduring the scorching sun and their food and supplies reducing every passing day. All in an attempt to do what…mislead?" Drigo was trying to make them see his logic.
"That cunning cunt…"
"Language! Ragaleon shrilled at the grand maester when the latter was about to curse out.
Turning to one of the knights…
"Send for the commander of the guards; I want the security within the castle to be doubled. No queen should leave the castle without being accompanied by at least two sets of guards." He gave the orders cogently, a calculative countenance masked on his face.
The knight bowed slightly before going on the errand.
"What I suggest is that we lock bonds with the Kingdom of Yaleton before Kyron strikes. The ships and solid sailors Yaleton has to offer will go a long way in aiding us in the time of war." Priest Tailbon voiced out, and the rest of the council members nodded at his wise words, all in agreement to the suggestion he made.
"The bond between Yaleton and Decreash will soon be cemented when my sister Helena weds the young prince, heir to the throne of Yaleton." Ragaleon added sighing in between.
"Have the preparations for my sister's wedding hastened; I want her to be wedded to Prince Vinson on the fortnight. Council dismissed." Ragaleon said before strolling out of the courtroom.
"He has been in a sour mood ever since Jazell Makaah fell ill. I lament with you, Brandon." The grand maester said before rising to his feet and walking out of the courtroom.
Slowly all the members departed, leaving Brandon left to his thoughts. He was seated on a chair, both hands on the table, and as seconds turned into minutes, he remained there… as stiff as a statue, deep in thoughts
....
Micah was seated gracefully upon a carved wooden chair in the royal garden, where the air was heavy with sultry wind and the fragrance of blooming roses and jasmine.
Sunlight filtered through the branches of leaves overhead, casting dappled patterns across the pages of the book in her hand.
Her expression was serene, lost in the quiet world of words, until the soft patter of small footsteps stirred her attention.
Looking up, she saw Amilek walking towards her, and his eyes, curious and gentle, lingered on her. He looked a bit hesitant… So he paused midway when he felt the weight of her gaze on him.
A tender smile curved Micah's lips.
She pats the empty space on the bench beside her, motioning him to come and take a seat.
"Amilek… Come here," she said warmly, her voice soft as the garden breeze.
Amilek's hesitant steps quickened, his face brightening as he made his way to her and then took his seat on the vacant space next to her.
"You look pale." She says, peering at his face.
"Lately I have been bored. Being the only child within the castle is a privilege and a burden at the same time."
"A burden that will be eased when Queen Tamina gives birth to her child…you will have a playmate." Micah added, patting him lightly on the head.
Amilek's face darkened at her words. His vision flashed with memories of the dream he had a few days ago.
Blood…on the staircase. Cries of pain and terror….
"Amilek," Micah calls out to him, placing her hand on his shoulder at the same time.
"Are you alright?" She asks, and he nods.
"Why is the castle tense lately? My father, the king, has been rather aggressive in his dealings." Amilek questioned.
Micah's gaze softened as she closed the book in her hand and then placed it aside.
"Jazell's condition is quite unsettling; the whole kingdom mourns her fate."
"Mourn the fate of someone destined to die in the most honorable way?" Amilek arched his brows.
"Dying from a poisoned wine is not exactly an honorable death, Amilek. Even if she did it to save the king, it was still foolish since it could have been easily avoided."
"You do not read the handwriting on the wall. I am aware that dying from poison is not honorable." Amulek answered.
Micah creased her brows.
"Then what did you mean…"
"Forget what I said; come with me. I am already bored; your incessant questions are not helping." "Amilek," he said, jumping to his feet.
His little hand was wrapped around Micah's wrist as he dragged her along in the direction he was going.
"Amilek…hold on." Micah chuckled softly, grabbing her book, before being dragged away.