Rulers of Westover (Book 1 in the RoW Series)

Chapter Six

16:11:12 Light

Irving stretched his aching limbs and sighed as he got out of bed. Drama; bloody drama was all the capital knew, apparently. He got up. And how dare Lord Maynet throw House Vaughan under the carriage! Couldn't he have picked on the Ravenot House? The only house who wasn't accused or considered in the slightest. "It's them who killed the king," Irving muttered to himself, dressing in something more presentable than his night gown. "And they're going to get away with it because they're such a bloody useless, weak House and everybody will cross 'em off the list of suspects without a scond thought." He continued to mutter bad things about House Ravenot into the early afternoon. "Oh will you shut your mouth, Irving! You look like a madman mumbling to yourself," his father, Jarrett, hissed as they sat around the grand dining table.

Lord Auber and his son, Blake, were sitting across from them. Blake hadn't taken his eyes off the girl from House Ravenot since he'd sat down. "I think it was them who did it," he said through a mouthful of  roast pork. His father groaned, having obivously given up on his second born. "Honestly I wish your brother wasn't away overseas Irving, I really do," he muttered. Lord Auber eyed him with sudden interest. "Who, is they?"

"House Ravenot." Lord Auber's brows furrowed in confusion. "They could get away with anything. Nobody sees them as a threat because they're considered so weak." Blake had finally stopped staring at the Ravenot girl like she was a meal and burst out laughing. "Yes, you're right they are weak. They don't have the gold for such attacks," he said. 

Irving glared at the smirking lord. "Yes, but they have one of the largest armies." 

Blake drank some wine, a smile still in his eyes. "Well then the answer is simple isn't it? They are in fact stronger than most consider them." Irving frowned. Was Blake with or against him? Blake grinned that sly grin that could only belong to an Auber. "Don't worry about it too much. The truth will come out, eventually."

 "May I have everybody's attention?" The conversation died and everybody turned to the familiar announcer from the day before. "Deep apologies from the King, but the House Meeting has been cancelled and His Majesty has requested you all return to your estates and await for further information." The announcer left hurriedly, which was wise, as people started to shout things like

'I have things to do back home! I could have left earlier'. 

People began to angrily get up and leave until only the High Houses were left seated. Nobody moved. Lord Auber laughed and then suddenly glared at Lord Cardon. "And did you sneak off in the night, Malin? Ask that as King's Voice, that little novice of a King should think of you as his only true ally and not his only true enemy?" Lord Cardon didn't give him the satisfaction of an answer. He got up and headed for the exit. "Don't you dare turn your back on me, Cardon!" 

"Farewell Blake." Lord Auber's right eye twitched comically. He pulled his son to his feet and dragged him out of the room.

                                                                            *     *     *

"Your Majesty, you must understand Malin Cardon is nothing, but a traitor and now would be the perfect opportunity for him to seize the throne." Lord Auber exclaimed in an angered tone. Maxwell sat up in his bed and shifted his weight to make himself more comfortable. "Who said I was trusting him, Lord Auber?" he asked. "I may be new to all these kingly duties, but I'm no fool. I know he has the biggest motive out of all the Houses. But that may just be what one of the other Houses wants me to be aware of."

Lord Auber swallowed. "You really don't think he is responsible do you?" Maxwell narrowed his eyes. Lord Auber half bowed. "Your Majesty." Maxwell felt uneasy by the way Lord Auber was looking at him. Like he was some piece of meat and Lord Auber was a starving orphaned child. "I think it was them, alright? However, I need proper evidence, not theories, because I don't want my first big, noteable, action as King to be me making a mistake and punishing the wrong House."

Lord Auber stared just past Maxwell for what seemed like an eternity. "The High Houses are still here. I'm calling a meeting."

Maxwell stared at him in disbelief. "You'll do no such thi-"

"Excuse me, Your Majesty." Lord Auber turned and left. Maxwell stared after him. He called for his servant, the one called Jack, who could carry a horse in each arm and still be able to run. "Your Majesty?"

"Take me to the Meeting Room."

When Maxwell got there, all the other High Houses were seated with uncertain expressions on their faces. Only the two seats that Lord Cardon and his son had sat in were empty out of the front row. Lord Auber stood up. "Isn't it convenient the House in question has left in such a hurry." Maxwell glared at the dark blonde haired man. "I told you all to leave. Lord Cardon managed to follow his King's instructions." 

Maxwell held his glare. "You have asked, no, demanded, a meeting, Lord Auber. We are all present now, so let's not waste more of each other's time. Say what you want to say." Lord Auber nodded and Maxwell swore he caught a glimpse or amusement flicker on Lord Auber's son's face. "You, Your Majesty, just admitted to me that you believe it was House Cardon who killed your father and yet you allowed Lord Cardon and his heir to leave. Even now, you have not sent men after them. You said you wanted evidence, not theories, before you pass judgement. You could have still kept them here while you found that evidence." Maxwell slumped a little when he saw a couple of the other Lords nod in agreement.

Lord Auber pointed a finger at Maxwell and shook his head disapprovingly. "You, Your Majesty, are not fit to be King!" He stormed out of the room, his son close behind him a smirk still plastered to his face. The other Lords seemed just as shocked into silence as Maxwell was. Then Lord Vaughan got up. "I'm afraid, Lord Auber is right, Your Majesty." He nodded at his son, Irving, to stand up and they too left. Everybody else murmured something close to a goodbye and exited. Finally, an emotion other than confused shock, racked Maxwell's body and he shouted out in anger. That man! That man was a nasty piece of work. He wouldn't stop for anything until he got what he wanted, Maxwell realised. He hoped it wasn't the throne.