Chapter 22.2

This time, the throne hall had been prepared for dinner. Ironically, the failed assassination attempt and Eirwen's show of force had made her guests feel more safe. With that in mind, it was possible to have them attend a dinner with only one knight per delegation on standby.

The many weapons on the walls had been covered by curtains, while the decorative armours had been removed. As for the former throne, its dais was now in use by a table for Eirwen and her advisors. The rest of the hall was filled with large tables and comfortable chairs, leaving enough room for knights to stand behind their masters.

Dinner was spent exchanging pleasantries and subtly hinting that yes, the various nobles had already begun willingly sharing their techniques. Intimidating for those near Verglas, though those concerns were smoothed over by both Duke Beirn and Duchess Ashwood showing no care whatsoever. They knew just fine that Verglas wouldn't come after anyone that didn't start a fight first.

The weapon master stayed outside the hall, though he covered the entire hall with his senses. Mental instructions made sure staff avoided any etiquette failures. Even though Lady Róisín could prepare her staff well, the subtle details inside were outside her sight and reach, but still within his. They made quite the decent team.

More crucially, it kept the weapon master away from Sir Wigbeorht. The man was far from pleased with how he kept finding himself without control of the situation. She wouldn't be surprised if he were to lash out at the weapon master if given half the chance, so she kept the two separated. If the man had paid more attention, he would have made sneers for the weapon master to overhear. But even realising the weapon master was in full control was beyond the man's short-sighted behaviour.

In between courses, some people walked around, including Sir Wigbeorht. This brought him to the table where Warin was sitting. Unfortunately the man spotted the drink bottles. Eirwen sighed mentally. The man had found his excuse to cause trouble. "Vicomte Gosling. An interesting combination of drinks. A Flameheart territories blend and a pure Verglas bottle?"

Warin smiled, though even from a distance, Eirwen could tell the smile didn't reach his eyes. He knew the man was up to something but was willing to play along for now. "Iceheart. But yes. I was recommended the combination. Three pours of Verglas and a single pour of Iceheart, for a robust addition to the smoothness. You should try it."

Sir Wigbeorht waited with a lazy smile as a drink was poured for him. The man was pretending to be a bit under the influence, to excuse his misbehaviour. It would work better if the weapon master hadn't been controlling the drinks served to prevent that from happening. Or if there weren't over a dozen nobles skilled enough to sense how drunk people were in general.

Ignorant of his own ignorance, he took a sip. "Ah, that indeed is a nice combination. Just like how the troops worked well together today. At last, something good has come out of the uncertain events fro-"

"Certain." For but a mere instant, Eirwen had considered keeping her mouth shut, before refusing to back off. The room was silent now as she looked straight at the man. "You are referring to my parents' murder. There is no uncertainty left there. The Duke confessed to his crimes in his final moments. As we said for years, he was the one behind it all."

The man barely managed to hide his smirk in response to her going for his bait. "Ah, did his son tell you that, your Grace? Perfectly understa-"

"Eighteen witnesses. His son, six guards, and the entire Flameheart council. Three of those council members are here today. Would you take their word for it, Sir Wigbeorht? Or would you suggest they too might just be telling me what I would like to hear?"

Etiquette had entered the room, taken a look around, and decided to make way for battle lines. Just as the man had intended by taunting her. He responded, actually believing he was in control now. "Victors put their stamp on what the scribes report, your Grace. I would love to trust their sincerity, of course."

She looked straight at him, ignoring how dozens of nobles had risen to their feet in support of her, looking at the crown's representative with pure contempt in their eyes. "Sir Ailbe Carraig. Please repeat the sixth Duke's final words. Exactly as he said them." Ailbe rose to his feet, a hesitant expression on his face, while her weapon master reached out to her. 

"Eirwen. May I cover your ears?"

No.

She understood what he was offering. He believed this would hurt her, wanted to shield her from it. But she refused to back down when being disrespected in her own halls. No matter the cost. Eirwen looked at Ailbe, who still hesitated, until Aoife put her hand on her father's, encouraging him to speak.

"As you wish, your Grace. And I do apologise." She wondered what he would say. Truth be told, she had never bothered to verify her suitor's claims. He had sworn himself to her, sworn no secrets or lies. There was no reason for her to doubt him. As she thought that, she saw a crude frown appear on Ailbe's face, likely mimicking that of his former master during the Duke's final moments.

"You utter waste of talent. All that skill, yet less resolve than a castrated mutt." Eirwen clenched her armrests as he spoke. There was no mistaking the contempt and arrogance in his voice. This was a direct quote of her hated enemy. "I offered you two dukedoms on a silver platter, yet you squander every chance to claim them. You truly are as worthless as your siblings were. If only your brother had had half the talent you just piss away with every breath you take. Maybe he would have gotten things taken care of."

Eirwen wasn't the only one flinching at those harsh words. She could feel the mental recoil as the words made her beloved remember the family he had lost to his father's arrogance. The onlisteners also had to take pause, as they understood the Duke had spent his final moments taunting his son, not realising those words would be his last.

Ailbe continued, his tone, expressions, body language all a copy that showed just how intense the man had been. "All it would take is one proper push. Forget the casualties, just smash straight through and claim her for yourself. But no, you lie to me about wanting to preserve our strength. Do you consider me a fool? Think I don't know you're trying to protect her? Pathetic."

Ailbe sneered and once more Eirwen felt the mental flinch from her beloved, even as he did his best to keep an eye on her instead. "But now I know I made a mistake four years ago. I assumed that if I eliminated her parents, I could easily push you to take control. If I had known just how useless you were going to be in dealing with her, I would have told them to kill her first."

A part of Eirwen noticed a large number of gasps from the hall. The rest of her was trying to force down the bile in her stomach. There it was. The actual words. The end of all doubt. She had expected relief, but no, she already had received that when she was told before. The actual words did nothing but open her wounds instead.

Her senses could tell Ailbe struggled, but he continued, his face and voice never faltering. "If you're going to pretend to still care for your precious Duchess, I suggest you start winning fast. I may have made an error letting her live before, but I can still rectify that mistake!" With that shout, he turned away and made a single step.

And then, it was over. Ailbe released the tension and returned to being himself. Some shivered as they realised. Those had been the Duke's very final words. A threat towards Eirwen as he walked away from his son. Meaning he had died before he could utter more.

Eirwen could only imagine how fast it had happened. She had seen his speed in combat the past few days, when he moved as if he had nothing to lose. She wondered if the Duke had even realised before his head was already rolling on the floor. The first true opening, and one his son had taken without any hesitation.

Ailbe turned and knelt, too pained to look at her. "That was all, your Grace." She nodded in his direction, not trusting her words. His voice was trembling, she had no doubt hers would have too, had she replied verbally.

Duchess Ashwood was the first to move, slamming her table with fury in her eyes. With the Duke long dead, and his son having gained at least some of her approval in recent days, there was only one proper target for her rage at hands. "Was that enough a show for you, Sir Wigbeorht? Or does the crown wish to insult the West even more?"

He meant to talk back, then shut his mouth as he saw the way people looked at him. Ah, finally the man had realised. He had thought he could sabotage Eirwen's position in the eyes of her peers. But now, especially after the way Ailbe had exposed just how utterly disgusting the late Duke had been, all he had managed was to turn the entire room against him. No matter how powerless or uninvolved some of the nobles here were, none of them would forget just how far the crown's representative had stepped across the line.

Eirwen rose to her feet, withdrawing her senses so she could focus on keeping her hands and voice steady. "If you will excuse me, I fear I have lost my appetite. Please stay, the next courses should still be delicious. I wish you all a lovely evening." Her doorguards fell in by her side, escorting her all the way through the hall that was still mostly silent.

As she reached the doors, she turned around. "Iceheart and Verglas. I permit duels for your honour." Leaving that threat behind, she exited the hall. Outside, the weapon master joined her as she made her way to the study. She could tell he wanted to speak with her, but could barely keep himself in check. That madness was swirling underneath his skin and a single word might shatter the surface.

At the study, she entered first. He gave the doorguards an order. "None may approach without permission. Swords drawn. Use whatever force you deem necessary." An order he had no right to give them, but that they accepted nonetheless as he entered after her. She couldn't even pretend to disagree. Treacherous as it might be, she hoped Sir Wigbeorht would be foolish enough to try anyway.