Of Gods and Warriors ✓

Chapter 63

"Interesting company you have there, Your Highness," he said, his voice sickly sweet. Farren felt Linder tense up beside her.

"Ah, if it isn't dear Valerius! Long time no see," The man came up to him, face still stretched in that false smile. "Here to see the King?" he added, rather unnecessarily.

Sensing the venom, faces turned to Linder at once, half-expecting him to retort. Yet Linder didn't answer.

Now Miveresk came forward beside his brother. "Oh, is this the lad you told me about?"

Sir Troth chuckled. "The very same." He patted Linder on his back, who looked as though he was going to be sick. "This is the brave young man who aimed to free the city of corruption! Didn't you, Valerius?"

Linder stepped away from his reach, drawing his cloak about himself, his expression stone-like. His eyes were lowered, fixed upon the toes of his boots. He seemed strangely guarded, almost embarassed-- a rare sight for those who knew him.

"A noble effort if I've ever seen one," said Princess Lysandra. "Why the hint of mockery in your tones, gentlemen?"

"You misunderstand us, Your Highness," Sir Troth said, "we wouldn't dare. I merely seek to...encourage him, for his last effort did not end too well. The thief he captured roams free today--worse yet--in the army." He gave Farren a look of disdain. "The laws of this land are falling apart."

Miveresk shook his head in pity. "A shame, that. But no matter. We've all been at that age, Valerius. Young, naive and...perhaps a bit foolish. We thought the world was broken, and sought to fix it," he said in mock empathy. "We need more people like you. Truly."

Before Farren could let loose her array of colorful curses--or anyone else could provide a more civilized answer, Gray elbowed his way to the front--nearly knocking foreheads with the nobleman. "Yeah? Is that why you had him transferred away?"

"Why you filthy little--" Sir Troth made to shove him away, but he'd be fooling himself if he believed he would best one of the Iron Arena's champions. He failed almost comically and staggered sideways.

Gray turned to Lysandra and cleared his throat. Then he began, with great annoyance, "Since my dear friend here would rather sell his soul than say a word in his own defense, let me explain to you."

And that, he did--recounting the sordid tales of the nobleman's involvement in the dealings of the worst part of the city. Farren but had to begrudgingly admire the alarming lack of damns he gave about Sir Troth who had all the strings arrayed before him, a light tug on which could land Gray into something far worse than a dismissal.

"I had an inkling something of this sort happened behind our backs," said Lysandra at last, who probably knew it all from her network of espionage. "But not many have the gall to speak it out loud."

"Nonsense! Surely--" Miveresk stuttered. "--Surely you do not believe some random cadet's words over that of His Majesty's most devoted servants?" he said, gesturing to Farren and Linder both. "I mean, you need only look at the pair of them. Once a city guard, and now ganged up with that lowly thief--"

"Silence!" shouted Princess Lysandra, startling them all, her voice carrying all around the hall. Servants and guards froze in their tracks. "I will not have you insulting my guests. Out of my sight, at once."

"If that pleases Her Highness." Sir Troth muttered an apology and stomped away, but not without a last look at Linder.

Miveresk sighed, staring after him. "What a disaster..."

But nothing escaped the princess's notice, especially when she was this angry. "What was that?" she snapped.

"Nothing, Your Highness! Just wondering about that murder in the gardens."