With his nerves bristling with anticipation, Leonardo Bernoulli strode briskly through the halls of the royal palace towards the Council Chambers. While Prince Nathan had officially appointed him as Steward within moments of the High King's assassination, the High Council of Verden had demanded a formal meeting before they would grant him the full scope of power that his new station afforded. He would require the full authority of the throne if he hoped to lead the armies of Verden against the traitors in the east. Within hours of the attack on the palace, several of his most trusted men had begun recruiting bands of mercenaries to quietly grow the size of Verden's forces without alerting the general populace to the coming war. There was no need for panic just yet. With any luck the resistance would also be caught unaware by the sudden growth in their opponent's military.
He wished he could grill Arthur for information about his attempt to kill Prince Nathan, but at this moment his most loyal soldier was lying unconscious in the medical wing of the palace covered in severe burns. Bernoulli had been fortunate to discover the young man's barely breathing body in the secret passageway out of the castle before anyone else stumbled upon the scene of the skirmish. Arthur had been sprawled amongst the very dead bodies of all eleven of his men, and the Prince's guard Helvar; there had been no sign of Nathan or his other guards who had more than likely escaped the attack. He cursed inwardly, if Nathan could trace the attempt on his life back to him it would spell an early end to his rule. He composed his face into the mask of sadness and control that he had worn since the night of the assassination; outwardly, no one was more saddened than he by the passing of High King Castius.
Bernoulli inhaled deeply as he approached the large ornate doors that led into the Grand Chamber of the Council of Verden. The heavy oak planks that made up the structure of the doors were decorated in ornate golden reliefs of soaring dragons breathing gouts of flame. Intricate inlays of sapphire, ruby, and emerald served as eyes for the sculptures, sparkling in contrast with the pure gold of the dragons bodies. He fought to stifle a chuckle, the gaudy decoration encapsulated the character of the council perfectly, six self-aggrandizing, haughty, power hungry, stuffed shirts who cared much more about consolidating their own authority than giving honest council to the High King. While it was true that the High King held complete control over the kingdom, Castius' father Igor had recognized early in his reign that it was impossible to split his attention to every aspect of ruling. The Council was established to keep a closer eye on day to day events throughout Verden and advise the High King on important issues and events facing the kingdom. Decades spent as Castius' personal advisor had done little to ingratiate Bernoulli with the Council. Often his role had placed him in an adversarial position as he forcefully argued his opinions which often ran contrary to their advice. More than one member of the Council had accused Leonardo of being more concerned with growing his own power and influence than he was interested in what was in the best interest of Verden. Or more accurately, Bernoulli thought, what was in the best interest of the council. To his mind they were clearly jealous that even with all the power they had managed to coalesce over the years, his voice was the most trusted in the High King's ear.
"I am here at the request of the High Council," he spoke simply to the two guards stationed just outside the elegant double doors.
"They are expecting you," the man on the left answered in a deep bass voice, opening his side of the door with a mighty shove.
"Chief Advisor Leonardo Bernoulli to see the High Council," the second soldier announced grandly, stepping into the chamber just ahead of Bernoulli.
"It's Steward Leonardo Bernoulli," he hissed to the armored man, softly enough for his words to be heard exclusively by the guard. The man offered a simple nod of apology but notably did not correct his proclamation before stepping into the corner of the room as a silent observer.
The Council Chambers were an enormous circular room decorated with a large rectangular table surrounded by seven high backed padded chairs. Six of the chairs sat evenly spaced, two on each side of the table, their deep red cushions filled by the posteriors of the four men and two women who made up the council. The seventh and final chair stood at the head of the table, more throne than chair, higher backed than the others, with royal purple cushions in place of the red. Unlike the other chairs, this more impressive piece of furniture boasted fine gold plated arms, with the ends sculpted into gilded snarling dragon heads, their mouths open exposing sharp golden teeth in defiance to the world.
"We appreciate your prompt arrival," Adelinde Hielscher, an extremely dignified woman in her mid seventies gestured for Bernoulli to take his familiar place in their quorum, standing just behind and to the side of the High King's vacant chair. She stood as she spoke, her long silver hair sparkled like starlight in the soft early morning light that streamed through the tall, arched windows set into the walls of the chamber.
Bernoulli gave her a tight lipped smile as he bowed his head in apparent reverence to the longest tenured member of the council. Inwardly the newly appointed Steward seethed at the disrespect. In place of an appointed sovereign, he was the highest ranking man in Verden. With his men preparing to kill Prince Alexander and Prince Nathan on the run, there was no one in the kingdom with a legal claim to usurp the throne from him; yet the council insisted on treating him as if he were still a mere advisor. He had no doubt they would attempt to control his every action even if they accepted the royal decree that had placed him in his position of leadership; a position he had slaved away for decades to reach, a position he had now killed for.
"Leonardo Bernoulli," Adelinde continued, lowering herself back into her seat, "the Council has summoned you here this morning to discuss the tragic events that transpired within these walls two nights prior. More specifically we are very interested in the circumstances that led Prince Nathan to name you as Steward of Verden mere moments before he was killed by assassins."
"Of course my lady," the smooth, practiced voice of an ever humble advisor that Bernoulli had perfected over his many years of service echoed softly in the grand room. "What would you like to know?"
"We find it strange that you, an advisor, would be named as Steward over one of our number; we after all have much more first hand knowledge of the day to day governance of our kingdom. I intend no offense by my words of course, you were the last to see our dear Prince alive and I am merely curious as to the specifics of his final conversation." The heavily mustached Gerolf Albiker leaned back in his chair as he spoke, stroking his impressive salt and pepper facial hair as if he were deep in thought.
"What are you implying Councilor?" Bernoulli asked in his overly polite voice, fighting to keep his anger at the man's snide comments hidden deep below the surface of his polished front. "Respectfully, I served at High King Castius', Tolfelo usher his soul safely to the afterlife, side longer than you have served on this council. I have studied at the right hand of his majesty himself as he ruled benevolently and effectively over Verden."
"I am not implying that you are anything less than capable of the position," Gerolf said placatingly. "I just find it disappointing that there were no other souls around to witness Prince Nathan's first and final royal decree. We merely have your word and a stamped decree. It is most regrettable that he was killed before he could inform anyone else about his decision."
Bernoulli felt his blood boil as he recognized the second, darker, underlying current to Gerolf's words. How dare this man accuse him of murdering Nathan and forging the decree. He could not afford for any such rumors to spread; Gerolf would have to be paid off, or killed. It troubled him briefly how fast the the solution of murder had lept to the forefront of his mind, had killing one man made it that much easier for him to take such drastic measures?
It has to be done, he told himself, if his deeds were discovered he would be executed on the spot, he was much too far over his head to turn back now.
"Surely I misunderstand you," Bernoulli said aloud, "If you are accusing me of something I urge you to speak plainly."
"I do not mean to imply any accusations of wrongdoing, I wanted only to provide you a more focused question than the broad words that my colleague spoke in," Gerolf waved a hand as he spoke as if he could push away the bad blood that permeated the air between them.
"I apologize for my associate, as I know you are aware, he does not always choose his words wisely. Please, tell us what happened that night," Ostara Elsner, noticeably the youngest member of the council, stood from her seat as she spoke. The majority of her sandy blonde hair fell loose to the middle of her back, two thin braids wrapped around her head where they met in the back, joining to a single braid that traveled down to the nape of her neck. While her voice was as balanced and measured as any government official, her shockingly silver eyes were filled with the resolve of someone not yet filled with the cynicism of power.
Despite himself, Bernoulli felt a slight smile touch his lips at the earnestness behind her words. While he had regularly clashed with her grandfather, whose seat on the council she had recently taken, perhaps Ostara could prove open minded enough to be a singular sympathetic voice on the council. "Thank you Lady Ostara," the Steward gave a slight bow before continuing, the most respect he had shown to any of the council in years. "I was awakened in the dead of night by my personal guard who informed me of the death of High King Castius. As Prince Alexander was away from the castle I made straight for Prince Nathan's room where I met with he and his Captain, Galleass Gattis. Prince Nathan expressed to me his wish to remain safely out of sight as we searched for the assassins that killed his father and assessed the potential of a traitor in our midst that would have allowed unfettered access into the palace. I agreed that this was the best course of action and he signed this official document, decreeing me as temporary Steward of Verden in the absence of he and his brother." He retrieved the sealed parchment from his pocket and set it on the table before the Council.
"The seal is authentic," Thilo Feit, a tall, lanky man with such thin lips it almost gave the appearance he had none, reached out a bony hand and plucked the parchment from the table and inspecting it closely. "May I?" Bernoulli wordlessly assented and the councilman broke the seal, unrolling the parchment with a flourish.
"You alerted the guards of the Prince's death, how did you manage to escape with your life?" A broad shouldered, heavy browed man with a bushy grey mustache leaned forward in his seat inquiringly as his fellow members poured over the royal decree ravenously.
"I am not as well versed in combat as you, Sir Janik Hackl," Bernoulli began smoothly, stepping closer to the table as he spoke. "I narrowly escaped with my life thanks only to the heroics of Captain Gattis. An assailant broke through the window of Prince Nathan's room and cut down our poor prince right before my eyes." He bowed his head, forcing tears to form in his eyes as he fabricated a tale of a scarred faced assassin successfully taking the life of Prince Nathan before turning his attack on the defenseless Steward. Bernoulli raised his left arm, pulling back the sleeve of his signature purple robes, revealing the freshly closing, self inflicted wound that stretched the length of his forearm. While the majority of the council recoiled in horror at the display of the still oozing wound, the former knight, Janik and to Bernoulli's surprise, the young Ostara remained nonplussed by the gruesome sight.
"If Captain Gattis saved you from this assassin, why has he not been seen since that night?" Leaning back pensively in his seat Kai Körver observed the proceedings with serious brown eyes that sat slightly narrowed above a proud, aquiline nose.
"Captain Gattis pursued the killer from the room, and regrettably I have not seen the brave man since. The assassin threw some form of combustible liquid in a glass vial as he ran, the room caught flame before I could remove Prince Nathan's body from where he lay," Bernoulli completed his lie to the council. To the best of his knowledge there was no evidence available to refute his story. If the armor he had thrown through the window had been found, he was certain it had fallen far enough away to not be tracked back to the guard he had killed in place of Nathan's body. It would merely be another unanswerable question from that bloody night.
"Whatever our feelings of this man may be, there is a single question that I believe takes precedent. Was this decree written by Prince Nathan himself, or is it a clever forgery, perhaps sealed with his original seal before the room was engulfed in flame?" Thilo asked, bringing the meeting to a culmination before any of his colleagues could further question Bernoulli's telling of events.
"Allow me to speak plainly," Gerolf said as if he had not been the only member of the council to openly accuse Bernoulli of murder. "It is no secret that you have not often seen eye to eye with this council. If I had the power to choose a Steward for our kingdom you would quite honestly be the last man on the list. I believe you to be a fork tongued, selfish man who has abused your position of influence to advance your standing beyond your station. But unfortunately, it is not up to me to decide. This is an irrefutable, binding legal document, and I have no choice but to accept its contents. I congratulate you on your temporary ascension in status, Steward Leonardo Bernoulli."
"As you said, unfortunately, the decision does not fall upon you. I appreciate your willingness to overlook our strained past Councilman," the former advisor's mood darkened further at the councilman's words. Bribery would not work on Gerolf Albiker, his hatred for Bernoulli ran too deep. The man would have to be removed if he challenged the Steward's authority too directly.
"There is no evidence that this is a counterfeit document and it is impossible to know whether this decree was written under duress," Adelinde began, following Gerolf. "I believe we have no choice other than to accept you as Steward until Prince Alexander arrives home to take his place on his father's throne." Her lips pursed slightly with what Bernoulli could only assume was disappointment, but unlike Gerolf she gave no overt insults.
"Thank you, Lady Hielscher," Bernoulli offered a slight bow to the elder stateswoman of the council before turning his attention to the other members, growing eager for their responses.
"I concur with my colleagues," Kai said succinctly, folding his arms tightly across his chest as he spoke.
Bernoulli fought to contain the excitement growing within his chest, the council made its decisions on a simple majority vote and half of its members had already sided in his favor.
"As Gerolf so...eloquently said, it is no secret that you have clashed with the council frequently over the years. My grandfather was often frustrated with you when he came home at night. Like Gerolf, I am sure he would be very unhappy with your appointment as Steward," Ostara stood once again as she spoke. Bernoulli's heart felt as if it had stalled in his chest, would the young woman be had hoped to be more understanding than his old adversaries give the first vote against him? "I hope that our dynamic will change while you serve as Steward. Maybe now you will see that we truly exist only to serve the throne and to provide our honest advice. At least until Prince Alexander returns, we will not compete for a monarch's favor, we will work together to ease Verden through this turbulent time." She offered a small smile as she spoke.
That's four, Steward Leonardo Bernoulli's legs weakened at the knees, seemingly turning to jelly where he stood. The council was not opposing his appointment, they were agreeing to follow his leadership, albeit some more willingly than the others.
"I will cast my vote with the majority," Sir Hackl concurred, his thick neck flexing as he spoke. Whether he would have sided with Bernoulli had the vote not already been decided he would likely never reveal; he was a savvy enough man to know that there was no point in antagonizing the newly appointed Steward with a meaningless vote.
"It appears my vote is no longer required," Thilo leaned forward in his seat studying Bernoulli's face for an uncomfortably long moment before continuing. "I congratulate you on your success Steward, and I pray you will lead us wisely whether it be a day, or a week until Prince Alexander returns to Stormcliff."
I very much appreciate the votes of confidence I have received from all of you on this morning. I swear to serve Verden honorably in the brief moment in history I have been called upon. I will use whatever royal powers I have been granted to wield to ensure the defense of our kingdom."
"You may leave, I am certain you have much to do to fulfill the duties of your new position ," Adelinde dismissed Bernoulli gracefully, "Let us hope that your actions prove as honorable as your words would lead us to believe."
Steward Leonardo Bernoulli gave one last half-hearted bow before sweeping out of the room, his purple robes billowing behind him as the guard pulled open the large door for him to leave the chamber. Only then did he allow the large smile to spread across his face. Everything he had worked towards his whole life was coming to fruition. The days he had spent slaving away as a bootlicking advisor, slowly building up the trust of the royal family while carefully discrediting his rivals, it had all been worth it. If his men could successfully keep Nathan and Alexander from returning, it would be years until the council would give up their search for the rightful heirs. Years that he would spend solidifying his power over Verden.
"Sir," Bernoulli turned abruptly to scowl at whoever had the nerve to interrupt his reflections in his moment of triumph. A young guard he had only occasionally seen around the palace was running towards him with a serious look upon his face.
"What is it?" The Steward asked brusquely. For this young man's sake he thought to himself, this better be important.
"Arthur Arlington has awoken in the medical wing, he has been asking to speak with you."