The council chamber had been transformed. Large table set with silverwares. Candles burning. Different types of wine poured. Servants moved quietly between seats.
Six councilors arrived in formal attire. Confusion beneath courtesy. A dinner invitation with hours of notice was...quite unusual.
Marten entered last. He had a well trimmed gray beard and hair of the same color. His steps carried the weight of nobility and seniority as the longest serving member of the council.
He smiled warmly and genuinely.
"Your Highness. This is most gracious. I confess I'm pleased you've reconsidered your recent... distance."
Auryn gestured to the seat across from him. "Please. Sit."
Marten sat, still smiling.
Look at him. So confident.
He thinks this is reconciliation. That I'm yielding.
Auryn cocked his head slightly when Lyra arrived. He almost forgot the tension between them.
She wore a midnight blue dress. Silver hair caught candlelight. Every eye turned briefly acknowledging her presence.
She took her seat beside Auryn.Touched his hand once. A wife's greeting.
He met her eyes. Amber studying crimson-gold. She knew something was happening but didn't know what.
"My lady." He kept his voice neutral.
"My lord." She settled with composure.
---
The dinner officially began.
Servants brought courses. Roasted meat, Spiced vegetables, Fresh bread, seafood and lots more.
Conversation flowed carefully. Individuals treading on safe topics councilors used when uncertain what to expect.
Godfrey sat three seats down from Auryn. His face pale, palms sweating despite the cool evening. A leather folder rested beside his plate. Documents. Territory reports supposedly.
Marten ate comfortably. Spoke when addressed, made small jokes. The picture of a loyal councilor enjoying unexpected hospitality.
Auryn watched him. Said little. Allowing the meal progress without a fuss. Intentions buried in smiles.
Twenty minutes passed...
Then thirty. The time was almost set.
The main course was cleared. Dessert approached.
Auryn set down his glass of wine. The sound, small and deliberate, cut through all conversations.
Silence spread. The councilors looked at him. Lyra's hand went still on her own glass.
Auryn stood.
Show-time. He thought.
"Thank you all for coming on such short notice." His voice, calm and clear. "I apologize for the abruptness. But I needed you here. Together. As witnesses."
Marten's smile didn't falter. "Witnesses to what your Highness?"
Auryn's eyes wandered as his lips parted alongside a smirk.
"To treason."
The word hung in place. Marten's smile froze. It didn't change. Just... stopped moving.
"I—Your Highness, I don't understand"
"Godfrey." Auryn didn't look away from Marten. "The documents."
Godfrey stood. Hands shaking as he opened the leather folder. Pulling out parchments, ledgers, and letters.
He moved and spread them across Marten's position. Other councilors leaned in. Curious and confused.
Marten looked down. His face went white.
"These are" His voice cracked. "These are private financial records. You have no right" His voice hitched.
"Payment records." Auryn's tone didn't change. "From your personal accounts to a guard named Petran. Five hundred gold. Two days before I was poisoned."
Marten's mouth opened. "That's—I paid him for—" he couldn't find his words.
"For purchasing Dark Sapphire Venom from the Rusty Colt tavern. On behalf of Lord Castor. Who reports to my brother Vaedon."
The accusation bred silence and chills across the table.
One councilor gasped. A woman. Lady Sera.
"This is madness." Marten stood. Chair scraping. "Your Highness, I would never"
"Correspondence logs." Godfrey's voice was quiet and defeated. "You recruited me six months ago. When my son's gambling problems surfaced. You paid them in exchange for information."
Another document was laid down. Marten's handwriting. Clear. Unmistaken.
They were Instructions for gathering intelligence, territory troop movements, tax revenues.
"You had me report to you," Godfrey continued. "You compiled reports. Sent them via ravens."
"Recruitment records." Auryn gestured to another document. "You were the one who recruited that traitor Petran, three years ago. Placed him to have access to my security details. My movements. My vulnerabilities."
"Contact logs with Lord Castor's agents." Auryn opened to another page. "Fourteen separate meetings over three years."
An older councilor, Lord Wren—picked up one of the letters. Read it. His face hardened with disgust.
"Marten..." His voice dulled. "This is your hand. Your seal?"
"They forged—" Marten quickly retorted.
"I watched you write this seal a thousand times." Wren set it down. "This is yours."
Other councilors reached for documents. Reading and cross-referencing. The evidence was well-layered. Undeniable.
Lady Sera looked sick. "How long?"
"Three years." Auryn's voice was cold. "When Vaedon began consolidating power. He needed eyes in every province. Marten provided them here."
"I served this province for forty years!" Marten's voice broke. He'd turned desperate. "I've given everything—"
"You gave information to my would-be murderer." Auryn stepped around the table. "You smiled while reporting my every move to him."
"Your Highness, please—"
"You betrayed your oath. Your prince. Your province."
Marten's legs gave out. He collapsed back into his chair.
One councilor—younger man, Lord Petyr cleared his throat. "Your Highness... surely there's an explanation. Marten has served faithfully for decades. Perhaps he was coerced—"
Auryn's gaze shifted to Petyr. "Read the payment logs."
Petyr hesitated but picked it up anyways.
His expression changed as he read. "Five thousand gold. Over three years."
"Coercion?" Auryn's tone was icey. "Or profit?"
Petyr set it down. He couldn't say another word.
The councilor Sera spoke. "Even so, your Highness, shouldn't there be a trial? Due process?"
"This is the trial..." Auryn gestured to the table. "Evidence, witnesses and confession."
"I haven't confessed!" Marten's voice was shrill.
I have gotten to that Auryn smirked inwardly.
"Then deny it. On your honor. Look me in the eye and tell me you didn't betray me."
Marten opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Nothing could.
He looked down. Broken.
Auryn turned to the guards at the door. "Take him to the dungeon."
The guards moved immediately. Grabbed Marten's arms and hauled him up.
"Please—" Marten's voice was broken. "Please, Your Highness, I have a family—"
"And yet you tried to take me from mine" Auryn glanced at Lyra slightly as he spoke.
"The assassins knew my route. My schedule. Because you told them."
"I didn't know they'd try to kill you! I thought—I thought they just wanted information"
"Ignorance is no excuse Martens" Auryn's voice was sterner. " You're not speaking to a child neither are you one."
Marten's face crumpled.
"You only wanted the gold to keep coming."
The guards dragged him toward the door. At this point he didn't fight. Didn't struggle. Just wept.
The door closed behind them.
The council chamber went silent. The remaining councilors stared at empty plates. At documents spread with accusations.
Lyra's face was carefully neutral. But her eyes...
Impressed. Disturbed. Something else beneath. She recalled his glance when he spoke of family.
My Auryn wouldn't have done this.
He would have consulted and hesitated. Trying to keep things together until fully certain.
This man...
She felt something stir. Not love. But respect. Attraction to his competence. To strength displayed unapologetically.
He's bold.
Auryn returned to his seat. Picked up his wine as he took a slow sip before he spoke.
"Execution by dawn. Main square" His voice carried resolve. "Anyone who wishes to attend may do so. Anyone who wishes to leave my service after may submit their resignation."
No one moved. They remained like statues. Eyes darting to one another.
"You're all dismissed."
They stood. Bowed and filed out quietly.
Lyra waited until the door closed. Until they were alone.
"That was..." She paused. Searching for words.
"Necessary." He cut-in.
"I was going to say impressive." She studied him. "And theatrical. You enjoyed that."
"I established authority."
"You terrified them." She leaned closer. Voice softer now. "The old you would never have—"
"The old me nearly died." He met her eyes. "People change."
"Do they?" Her voice was soft and probing. "Or do they become someone else entirely?"
The question hung. Uneasy with a straightforward answer.
He stood. "I'm tired. Tomorrow is... long."
"Auryn?"
"Goodnight, Lyra."
He left dismissively.
She sat alone at the table. Surrounded by evidence of treason.
That wasn't the man I married.
And...Yet
She touched her collarbone. Felt warmth spreading through her body.
After the execution. Then I ask. Then he can't run anymore.
She smirked behind a glass of wine.