Lucien trailed behind his father, Duke Aldric, as they made their way through the winding corridors of the castle. The weight of their discovery pressed heavily on Lucien's small shoulders. Duke Aldric's strides were long and purposeful, his face set in a mask of grim determination.
Lucien had to half-run to keep up, his breath puffing out in little clouds in the chilly air. The castle was alive with movement now—King Wilhelm's orders had sent guards scurrying like ants, searching every nook and cranny for clues.
Shouts echoed down the halls, boots clattered against stone, and somewhere in the distance, a dog barked furiously. The chaos felt suffocating, yet it fueled Lucien's resolve. He wouldn't let Dorian's death fade into the noise.
They reached the great hall, where King Wilhelm stood at the head of a long oak table, his broad shoulders hunched as if bearing an invisible burden. His retinue of guards flanked him, their armor glinting dully in the firelight. The room buzzed with the murmurs of the gathered nobles, merchants, and kin, their faces a mix of fear and curiosity.
Queen Margaret stood beside her husband, her regal bearing marred by the raw grief in her eyes. Her hands trembled slightly as she clutched the edge of her velvet gown, the deep crimson fabric stark against her pale skin.
Aldric stepped forward, Lucien at his side, and bowed deeply. "Your Majesty," he began, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. "We've spoken to the guards at the east gate—Garrick and Thom. Their minds have been tampered with. They can't recall the night's events, not even what they ate for supper. It's sorcery, dark and deliberate."
King Wilhelm's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he processed the words. "Dark magic," he repeated, his voice a low growl. "You're certain?"
Aldric nodded. "I've seen its mark before, years ago. A spell to cloud the mind, to erase what's been witnessed. Whoever killed Dorian ensured no one would remember their passing."
Lucien watched the king closely, noting the flicker of fury that crossed his face. Wilhelm's hands clenched into fists, the knuckles whitening. "Then we're dealing with more than a blade in the dark," he said. "A sorcerer walks among us."
Queen Margaret let out a sharp, bitter laugh, cutting through the murmurs like a knife. "You expect me to believe this nonsense, Aldric? The guards were in on it—bribed or threatened, no doubt. And now you spin tales to shield them!" Her voice rose, trembling with accusation. "You'd protect your precious men over my son's justice!"
Aldric's face darkened, but he kept his tone even. "I seek only the truth, Your Grace. The guards' minds are broken. No bribe could do that."
"Lies!" Margaret snapped, stepping forward. Her eyes blazed as she turned to Wilhelm. "He's covering for them, Wilhelm! He doesn't care about Dorian—he never did! You'd let him twist this while our boy lies cold?"
Wilhelm's expression hardened, a storm brewing behind his eyes. "Enough, Margaret," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Aldric has served us faithfully. I'll hear him out."
"You'll hear him over me?" she cried, her voice breaking. "You don't love him—you don't love our son! You'd rather trust your friend than avenge Dorian!"
The words hung in the air, sharp and venomous. Wilhelm's hand moved before anyone could react—a swift, resounding slap that cracked across Margaret's cheek. She staggered back, a hand flying to her face, her eyes wide with shock and fury. The hall fell silent, the nobles' whispers dying as if snuffed out by the blow.
"I loved him more than you'll ever know!" Wilhelm roared, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "Don't you dare question that! I'll see his killer bleed for this, with or without your hysterics!"
Margaret's lips trembled and Wilhelm turned away from her, his chest heaving, and barked at his guards. "Bring me the men from the east wing—the ones posted where my son died. Now!"
The guards scrambled to obey, their armor clanking as they hurried from the hall. Lucien's heart pounded as he watched, his small hands curling into fists. He glanced at his father, whose face remained impassive, though a muscle twitched in his jaw. The tension in the room was a living thing, coiling tighter with every passing second.
Minutes later, four guards filed in. They now looked uncertain, their eyes darting between the king and queen. They knelt before Wilhelm, heads bowed, the clink of their armor the only sound in the stifling silence.
Wilhelm loomed over them, his shadow stretching long across the floor. "You were in the east wing," he said, his voice cold as steel. "My son died under your watch. Speak."
Before any of them could respond, Queen Margaret stepped forward, her grief twisting into something feral. "No need for words," she hissed. With a flick of her wrist, she gestured to the braziers lining the hall. Flames roared to life, leaping unnaturally high, and then—impossibly—they surged toward the guards.
A collective gasp ripped through the room as fire engulfed the four men. Their screams pierced the air, raw and guttural, as they thrashed against the flames. The stench of burning flesh filled the hall, acrid and sickening.
Lucien's stomach lurched, and he stumbled back, his eyes wide with horror. Duke Aldric lunged forward, a shout tearing from his throat—"No!"—but the queen's personal guard moved faster, their spears crossing to block his path.
"This is justice for my son!" Margaret declared, her voice ringing out over the dying screams. She turned on her heel and stormed from the hall.
Wilhelm stood frozen, his face a mask of shock and rage. The nobles murmured in panic, some retreating toward the walls as if the fire might turn on them next. Aldric shoved against the guards' spears, his eyes blazing. "She's lost her mind!" he snarled. "Those men could've told us something!"
Lucien's legs trembled, but he forced himself to step closer to his father. The sight of the charred bodies—blackened husks still smoldering on the floor—seared into his mind, joining the image of Dorian's lifeless form.