Chapter 11.2

There were still roughly four moments left before the tenth bell, when Eirwen entered the throne hall. Most were already inside, bowing as she walked over the carpet, her eyes on the throne at the end. In her mind, she saw the previous owner sitting in it, a perpetual sneer on his face as he looked down on everyone else. She hated what he had taken from her. If only he had died years earlier, before he could take his son from her.

She arrived at the stage, looking at the seat. She could easily claim it for herself, erase his memory by replacing him. Today wasn't the kind of day for that, though. Slowly Eirwen drew her sword, then Verglassed it and cut through the throne twice. Ignoring the wreckage, she turned around and walked down the stairs again. She cared little for physically looking down on her subordinates.

Sweeping her eyes through the hall, she verified its characteristics were still the same. No windows, wall torches every few paces, weapons and decorative armour showcased in between. Showing off the violent history of the Flameheart family, not with tapestries but with a show of force. 

The last stragglers entered with still over a moment left, only Eirwen's left and right hand not there yet. She could sense their presence nearby, clearly planning for a near-dramatic entrance. Part of her wanted to smile at that, the rest insisted on keeping up her cold ruler mask. The knights, soldiers, and staff all gathered in small groups, quietly discussing the situation.

They were interrupted by the sound of the tenth bell coming in from outside, and the simultaneous opening of the doors by Vicomtesse Pertrellan and the nameless advisor. Pertrellan was in her full plate, armed with sword and shield. The nameless wore no armour, but he had his sword on his side, though weirdly enough it was peace-bonded. He walked left of the Vicomtesse and half a step behind her, perfectly in sync. With surprise, Eirwen noticed she was feeling a bit jealous.

At a third of the room, the two knelt and greeted her. ""Greetings, your Grace."" Again, perfectly in sync. Eirwen idly wondered whether they had practised in advance to make sure they got the timing right. And whose idea this little performance had been. She nodded at them, at which point they rose to their feet again. Pertrellan then addressed the room.

"Greetings, everyone. You have been called here so we could notify you of the new chain of command. Clearly you are aware of this man here, and most of you have already been following his instructions. We are formalising that. Right now, only I outrank him. Directly below him will be Bethan, who has significant experience with these parts. While we stay here, Sir Caerbychan is placed below Bethan. His primary duty is being the handler of the nameless. Below that, the existing chain of command remains intact."

Eirwen observed with all her senses, verifying people's responses. It seemed that while surprised, none were actively opposed. So the beating two days ago had done its job quite well. The Vicomtesse continued, now addressing the staff. "Both Vicomte Ailbe Carraig and his daughter, Baroness Aoife Carraig, have been present at the estate. We are also expecting more Flameheart nobles in the future. None of those are in the chain of command. They obey the Duchess, but for the rest they are guests that have no right to command anyone, not even staff."

She waited for everyone to nod, then addressed the knights. "There is one thing you all, and specifically the knights, need to be aware of. It involves something we discovered today as to this man's activities during the war." Her head nodded at the advisor. "He has chosen to tell you himself. You will not interrupt him." She stepped aside and left the floor to him.

Eirwen paid close attention to him. His eyes showed resolve. Good. That meant he wasn't treating this as a battle to be won or lost. His left hand held his scabbard in place, his right hand was by his side. He actively avoided Eirwen's eyes, moving them across everyone else instead. When he spoke, his tone did not carry the authority of Pertrellan. It carried a different weight to it instead.

"During the war, our spies reported a great deal to me. That, combined with my own analysis, meant I held information on each and every single one of you. And not just the knights present here, but most knights serving in the Verglas territories. I suspect not many of you comprehend just how heavy this fact is. As such, I will provide you with a partial selection of said information, so that you can reach a better understanding."

He moved his eyes to the leftmost knight. "Cledwyn. Twenty-four years old. Third child out of four. Has trouble identifying things at a distance." His eyes moved to the next knight. "Arian. Twenty-one. Second of two. Left-handed, still hasn't caught up training on her right." Next. "Haf. Twenty-eight. Only child, parents deceased, raised by her childless aunt. Still feels she must always prove herself, so doesn't work well in groups."

At this point, his message was already clear. Eirwen could see everyone in the room stiffen. Even Sir Caerbychan and her doorguards, as much as they were already aware, couldn't hide the impact this had on them. Bethan seemed tense, but held it well. Pertrellan hid it from her face, but Eirwen saw the way the Vicomtesse's fist tightened around her scabbard. And the advisor continued without a care, no change in his tone as he addressed every knight present.

When all were done, he paused for a while, allowing the shock to properly set in. As the knights began muttering, he spoke up again, instantly causing silence to fall. "These reports included more details than just your family information. Virtues, vices, people you care about. Anything that could be exploited against you. While the results and their qualities varied, I know exactly how I could have gotten to any of you, both on and off the battlefield."

His eyes moved on to facing Eirwen. "Your superiors are aware of all these reports, so actions will be taken to make sure you and yours remain protected. Asides from me, only one other had access to these reports in the Flameheart territories, and you all torched his corpse last night. That means only the spies are left as a concern, and they too will be taken care of."

Again he moved his eyes around, looking at all the knights. "As for the combat weaknesses, I kept those mostly to myself. But as part of my presence here, I have been given the order to help you deal with said weaknesses, resolve them through training. Of course, as you may have realised, I am not allowed en public, so today is my only chance to train you in person. Everyone but the knights, step back. That includes the doorguards. Stand behind Seren. As for the knights, I will give you mental instructions where to stand, as those are more precise."

There was a lot of quiet muttering from soldiers and staff as they followed their orders, uncertain glances thrown at both Pertrellan and Eirwen. They found no support there, so they obeyed. As for the knights, those reluctantly moved around. It wasn't long before Eirwen recognised the positions they were taking. A similar formation as three days ago, back when he had appeared at her court. When everyone had drawn their weapons against him, but so few of them had taken him serious. He was going to point out how much of a mistake that had been.

"Stand three paces behind them. Make sure to draw your sword when they do."

Her blood chilled at his command to her. It seemed her knights weren't the only ones he was going to teach a lesson here. So he believed she as well had underestimated him. She put that thought aside, wondering how he would indicate they should draw their swords. As she looked at him, she saw the emotions leave his eyes. He drew his sword, the sound of the scattering peace-bond soon accompanied by a choir of twenty-five weapons being drawn. Eirwen breathed in quietly and lowered her stance a bit. He wanted her ready to fight him. That she could grant.