Sorceress of the Second Sphere

6. Oubliette - Loldirr

As Vicomte Jeffry Thibodeaux entered the room, she recalled what this was all about. An alliance with a powerful neighbour.

With Ruvia on her side along with the forces of Ravenscourt, she would have substantial backing to regain her throne in Lionmane, yet it was still a risk. She controlled Ravenscourt, yet she did not have control of Ruvia, even after her marriage.

She was a woman in a man's world, expected to serve a husband as her master.

How could she? She was not someone's mistress or a lady in waiting, she was Loldirr Wraithslayer, the elemental sorceress, the last remaining survivor of house Aex-Igh, the most illustrious house in all the realms of men. How could she be expected to submit?

With the final key members of Ravenscourt and the Fæordic tribes entering the halls, Loldirr realised she was not in the best frame of mind for the decision she would likely have to make today. She was angry, frustrated and bitter, and now she was about to make someone pay for it.

"Bring him out!" Ethelston called as the lords and warlords took their places.

The clanking and scraping of chains echoed through the corridors and irritated the senses even before they had reached the huge oak doors of the great hall.

As the huge doors opened, all eyes focused on the dishevelled and gaunt man whose shackles screamed loudly at his every move. Stepping forward, with guards on either side of him, Loldirr was reminded that today she would be judge, jury and potentially executioner of the man who had been instrumental in the downfall of the Darke dynasty, Kirken Merrithorpe.

There was no shrill laugh, no bout of arrogance from the man that was once the steward of Ravenscourt. Until recently he was also one of the heads of Black Knife Syndicate, a clandestine organisation that had brought grief and hardship to Ravenscourt. He refused to look up, his eyes red and damp, aware that all around the room was pure hostility.

Dragged into the centre of the room, he felt exposed, aware of the resentment oozing from the murmurs of all those around him, yet as he was pushed unceremoniously to the floor, it was the man who stood some ten metres away from him, the man with the most resentment of all, was the one he feared most.

Kirken's wrists and ankles were chaffed and the clunk of the metal chains hitting the floor brought uneasiness to his head which had been bothering him for some time due to a lack of water. His parched lips, cracked and bloody, yearned for the goblets that sat in front of the people intent on watching his suffering, and as his eyes laid upon the redhead to Ethelston's side, he hoped to see pity in her eyes.

There was no kindness in Loldirr's eyes, just what appeared to be the look of a frustrated and disgruntled young woman.

"Kirken Merrithorpe, you have been condemned with treason," called out Ethelston, his bitterness seething in his voice.

"I... I can not be condemned," Kirken's high pitch sequel was hoarse and broken, "I have had no trial."

There was laughter throughout the room, except at the head table.

The silence was instant the moment that Count Ithelred slammed his fist on the table, "SILENCE!". While Ethelston's voice was bitter, Ithelred's was full of hatred. "A trial? Do you deny instigating the manoeuvring of Millendahl Darke as the Duke of Ravenscourt? Do you deny providing detailed information on Duke Edric Darke's security retinue, so assassins could attempt to murder him as they did the Emperor and Queen of Isovine? Do you deny the attempted assassination of Ethelston Darke and the successful assassination of Lady Astrida Darke?"

Ethelston raised his hand slightly, calming the raging Count before his reddened face turned purple. Ethelston took a deep breath, aware that hearing his mother's name after so long had brought him a sadness he thought he had long buried. It wasn't long, though, before his angered focus returned to the man kneeling in the centre of the room.