Chapter 37.1

The light of the afternoon lit the inside of the private room, complemented with lanterns and the fireplace. It made Eirwen somewhat uncomfortable to have the curtains open, but she wanted the place bright for today's events. Even with the doors closed, she could hear the noise of various conversations from the main hall. Her senses observed all her guests, various leaders of mercenary groups and such, each with two people allowed inside. Across the street, she identified several groups, no doubt the other members following these leaders.

Warden Blacktree made his way inside, clearly still uncomfortable in his new role. He had his daughter and oldest son with him, his youngest son nearby with his knights. Interesting that he had chosen to bring his children inside, rather than someone of his personal guard. A ploy to seem more approachable?

As for Red, he was chatting with several people, inquiring after members of their groups. Just a few of them, which didn't go unnoticed. When one asked him why he only wondered about those, he did a summation with a smile of the rest of that group, of which most were across the street. Even here, he knew way too many people and could recognise them far too easily. At least today his habit of only using given names wasn't as obvious, thanks to many using aliases and monikers.

With everyone arrived and settled in, Eirwen made towards the door separating her from them. As discussed in advance, her doorguards opened the door for her without a single word. No introduction. This wasn't the royal court. She walked in with a polite smile on her face. "Greetings, everyone. I'm glad you came."

Suspicious glares, half-friendly nods, a few murmured replies. They clearly didn't know how to handle the situation. She nodded in turn. "You can call me miss Snow. I called you here to discuss a situation with you, hoping for your cooperation. You might already know Warden Blacktree," she nodded in his direction, "who I also have asked to assist with the situation. Fang over there was hired as guide, helping us get familiar with local affairs. And many of you will be familiar with Red, who is showing me around."

She could tell from the looks in their eyes that most had caught on to her message. That she wasn't here to take control, didn't mean to just command them as their Duchess. She simply was a visitor with influence, aiming to recruit their aid. She also made sure to draw a line between herself and Fang, as well as not claim Blacktree's new authority as her own. Though it was obvious not all were willing to believe her. Good. She'd be worried if all had, convinced of pure pretence.

"You may have heard that I've been working on a map, created with assistance of people and the help of the memory crystal held by my personal healer over there." Bethan grunted as she opened her palm and showed the crystal. "I'll be mentioning some sensitive information, which is why I asked for people that can be trusted. What we're about to discuss may cause unrest, so if you're not comfortable with keeping the subject private, you are free to leave. If you stay, I ask for your silence, at least for now. You're free to think it over right now."

Seven leaders, all but one with two people by their side. Including Blacktree, that put them one short of two dozen. Eirwen had all her combatants at hand, only most healers and other attendants remaining in another room. That put her at a smaller number, though they weren't foolish enough to count Blacktree as someone on their side. Still, numbers carefully balanced so that they wouldn't feel too threatened, yet wouldn't get any ideas.

They discussed at low voices, though her senses meant she caught every last word. Blacktree didn't need to discuss, of course, though his children softly talked about the others present. As for Red, he just waited with a smile, as if he was waiting for his turn.

That turn came rather soon, as they had expected. One of the followers, Giuthas if she recalled correctly, looked at her with reluctance before speaking. "We know your true identity, lady Snow, and while I understand you have no ill intent here, I do feel uncomfortable with the presence of a traitor."

His eyes turned to Red, who kept up his smile, though it no longer reached his eyes. Giuthas pretended not to notice. "Make no mistake, I recognise your authority as Duchess and do not fault Verglas for the end of the war, nor do I carry any resentment for the Flameheart troops that now serve you. But there is a difference between their circumstances, and a man who murdered his own father. If he had come here in silence, I wouldn't have cared for his past, but he is here openly, and as such I feel like he has no right to be in our midst."

She wondered if the man even realised not a single knight present as much as blinked at his words. There were a few guests that she could tell understood just fine. Knew they all had already anticipated this kind of reaction, even though they hadn't known what the exact words would be.

Red turned to her, love and resolve in his eyes. "With your permission?" Ah, he deliberately didn't use any form of address there. She nodded and he turned back towards Giuthas. "You say a traitor shouldn't be involved here, calling me one for turning my sword against my ruler. I disagree with your point of view. In my opinion, it was my father who betrayed us first. Not just Verglas, but me, the mountains, even the entire dukedom."

He smiled, though still his eyes didn't show any amusement. "I'm sure you believe words to be empty. Fortunately for us, we have a useful tool at hand." He turned towards Bethan, holding his hand out. Wordlessly, she put the memory crystal in his hand. "Rather than just taking my word for things, let me show you my memories. Show you just exactly what your rulers were like."

He let mana flow into the crystal, causing their surroundings to change. No longer did they see the walls of the main tavern hall. Instead, they were surrounded by a depiction of the private office of Duke Flameheart. And in that room, the first thing they noticed was Red, no, Aodhán, kneeling, a few strides removed from a large figure that looked at him in massive rage. His father.

The real Red gave Eirwen a quick glance, as if to ask if she was alright. She nodded, not intending to close her eyes or ears to this. In reply, depictions of more people appeared, figures with less detail. A way to conserve energy, even if the crystal was helping. At once, Eirwen felt something was missing. It took her a few counts to notice. Nobles, guards, but no Lady Róisín. He had prepared well, slightly modifying the memory to hide the presence of the servants.

The depiction of his father began to speak, and she instantly recognised the speech. This was the moment that Ailbe had re-enacted for her in the past. She could tell Ailbe had done an excellent job, only noticing a mild difference in intensity.

They all heard his words, heard him express his regret at killing her parents instead of her. His threat to kill her anyway. Saw the man turn away, then saw his son spring forward, his hand flashing out too fast to properly follow. Saw the Duke's head roll as his body collapsed.

The vision faded, though the room remained. Now tables showed in different locations, one covered with meat, another full with bottles. The Duke was ranting, clearly intoxicated, while guards stood by in silence. No Red in sight, likely because his senses had observed it from a distance.

"Worthless, every one of those damn mountain fools! Why would I care they starve? Do they recognise me as their ruler? No, of course they don't. Ungrateful trash! Maybe hunger will convince them to properly kneel before me."

Once more the image faded, turning into Aodhán's private study, seated behind his desk, writing things down as he leafed through reports. The door flew open, splinters flying everywhere as his father burst into the room. Aodhán didn't even blink at the sights, greeting his father as he continued writing. "Greetings, your Grace." The words left Eirwen with a nauseous taste in her mouth, even if they sounded far different than when he spoke them to her. These sounded almost bored of the disruption.

"Shut your damn mouth, you treacherous mutt! You think I didn't hear about how you rotated the kitchen staff?! Getting your spies in place to poison me?! I should burn them all!" The man was swinging a bottle around. Definitely drunk then.

"If we burnt everyone you suspected of treason, father, we'd have no servants left in the entire estate. Plus only half the guards, and a third of the council. You'd also have burnt me so many times, I'd be charcoal by now." Yes, definitely bored with the tantrum, speaking those words while he just dipped his quill in the inkwell and continued his writing.

"Shut your mouth, boy! What are you even wasting your time on, rather than be at the battlefield?!" The Duke took a swig, finding the bottle empty and throwing it at the ground in frustration.

As for Aodhán, he sighed and put his quill aside. "Purchase orders for salt and ore. The mountains have a food shortage, so they can't feed well on the pittance you mandated they get for their goods. Which means they focus on hunting and foraging, rather than producing anything. Since we're short and in need, I have to place orders from the northern tribes."

His father spit on the ground. "Worthless disloyal cowards! That's all they've ever been! When I went there to fight the giants for them, do you think they helped? They just cowered in their homes, not even daring to leave the town! I burnt the place down to kill the giants, and those idiots still were too dumb to leave! Only the blazes know how many died alongside the giants."

The image faded, allowing all to properly see the rage now burning on so many faces. The man they had admired for his deeds decades before, had apparently not cared about how many he had killed as collateral damage. Yes, that'd qualify as treason of the people.

Another image appeared. No full manifestation this time, just a limited depiction. The product of actual ears and eyes. A small figure knelt, only one leg and arm clearly in sight, as well as a cold stone floor. The leg covered in soot, the arm full of burns. Thin limbs, small. A shadow in front of him, casting forth a voice that sounded like the Duke's, but younger, cold instead of raging. "You couldn't even stop the fire? Worthless."

There was something, an absence that made Eirwen suspect another thing had been left out. The knelt figure replied, a voice that sounded far too young. "I tried. If it had been just one, I might have succeeded. But my brother and sister both burnt. It was too much."

"Then you should have let them burn, rather than get injured. Bodies are worthless. Better had they turned to ash."

Another absence. If this was Aodhán, was that him leaving his inner voice out of the memory? "Mother's body..."

"Forget it. No point in a funeral." The Duke spoke once more, now clearly addressing someone else. "Let's treat it as if they all burnt to ash. Dispose of their bodies."

Once more the image faded away.