The assembly room was buzzing with curious, speculative murmurs when the Count of Valorieve barged in with his entourage of knights trailing him.
"Unhand me this instant!" the captive they were leading shouted and struggled against his captors, but it was all in vain, for the knights of Valorieve were firm and unmoving as mountains.
At the shocking sight, the gathered nobles balked and erupted into outrage.
"What is the meaning of this, Count Valorieve?" the Count of Kirale demanded as he slammed his palms against the meeting table. "How dare you parade His Highness in here like a prisoner!"
"At ease, gentlemen, ladies," Count Valorieve raised a pacifying hand into the air, coming to stand at the head of the table teeming with appalled and disconcerted nobility. They could protest his actions all they wanted inside this hall, for he knew that none of them could really stand to offend him beyond those walls.
He waved a hand at the Prince in the knights' captivity when he declared, "His Highness is not here in his capacity as the Crown Prince but as a criminal apprehended by my authority."
"Preposterous!" exclaimed the former count, ever so loyal to his prince. "Cease this nonsense at once!"
"Indeed!" the Prince snarled, "Release me lest you be considered a traitor to the crown!"
Count Valorieve paid their demands no mind and instead directed his attention to the rest of his fellow leaders. "Your Excellencies must surely be startled by this situation. Believe me when I confess, I was too.
"One week ago, Crown Prince Reval the Eleventh of the House of Rowonne was apprehended for burglary within the grounds of Valorieve Palace."
A hush of shock befell the assembly room. Even the Prince bit his tongue. Every count and countess listened dubiously as he continued, "He was witnessed infiltrating the palace with the intent of killing none other than Lady Y/n, my own daughter-in-law, twice Lady of Lurmuse and Valorieve."
"Yes. The Countess and I were there to witness the cruel state of our daughter on that tragic night," Count Lurmuse interjected, angry and distressed. He had been scowling since he caught sight of the Prince at the beginning of the meeting, and now he jabbed an accusing finger his way. "We demand that justice be delivered for this heinous crime!"
"I heartedly echo your sentiment, Count Lurmuse. There must be retribution for such a grave offense," Count Valorieve asserted. His son's in-laws had been alerted of the incident when it occurred, and their assistance had greatly benefitted their investigation. Besides, a family of their influence would surely help his case today.
"Pardon me, Your Excellencies," the Countess of Narin spoke up. She was new to the assembly table, having only recently inherited her late father's title. "Could this conflict not have waited until His Majesty recovered his health and dealt with his heir privately? I see no reason to have us all gathered here."
Her reasoning was valid, and it resulted in a series of agreeing whispers among the attendees. The Prince seemed encouraged by her to argue as well, "Exactly! You must allow me to return to Rowonne and await His Majesty's recovery post-haste."
The Count of Valorieve shook his head in a show of disappointment. "I have gathered you all here for this very reason.
"As we were investigating this incident, we happened upon a terrible truth that I assure you is of utmost interest to all of Your Excellencies," he paused, capturing their attention once more before revealing the secret that could upturn the kingdom in its entirety, "We have discovered that for the duration of the past year, the Crown Prince had conspired to conceal the news of the His Majesty's passing in order to secure his ascension to the throne!"
An uproar of disbelief and confusion exploded in the meeting hall, muddled questions, exclamations, and objections indistinguishable amid the noise.
"How can that be?"
"Impossible..."
"Is the King not bedridden?"
"How can His Majesty be dead?"
"You cannot hurl such ghastly accusations without proof, Count Valorieve!" the young Count of Core gasped. He was yet another new face at the table.
"Worry not," Count Valorieve assured him. "My proof is in my second son's visit to Rowonne only a few weeks ago. I had sent him with a Lion's Permit to seek an audience with the King, only for him to be denied by the butler and then attacked by the palace guard."
The commotion only amplified at his words.
"How dare they!"
"Have we become so insignificant to the House of Rowonne?"
"This is a sacred agreement!"
"My son soon discovered that the King was nowhere to be found," Count Valorieve turned to gesture harshly at the dumbfounded prince, playing into the dramatics of the crowd, "and that the Crown Prince had either silenced the palace staff or tricked them into his scheme!"
"Unbelievable..."
"Does he think us pitiful fools?!"
As the assembly hall slowly turned against him, the Prince remained silent. Perhaps he sought to feign ignorance or deny the accusations with his silence. It mattered not to the Count. The truth of his crimes would be revealed sooner or later with this little push.
"If what you say is true, then this is a plot to undermine our positions as Counts and Countesses," the Countess of Soloris proclaimed, her stern brows furrowing.
"Indeed! This is an offense that threatens the very foundation of our kingdom," the neighboring Count of Falia's fierce agreement caused a ripple of revolt among the attendees. "We cannot let this pass without judgment."
"Then a trial must be held and the Crown Prince's title must be revoked until its conclusion," determined Count Gaele, easily of the same mind as the other members of his faction.
"With what authority do you seek to strip me of my title? I am royalty!" the Prince protested with a furious yet futile jerk at his restrainers' grip. His words seemed to offend the Countess of Soloris, who raised her chin in the air scornfully and scoffed, "With the authority that was granted to us, the leaders of our kingdom's sixteen fiefdoms, four centuries ago by the agreement of our forefathers. We have the right to renounce the heir in the absence of the King by popular vote."
"Does he mean to dismiss our rights as counts? Unbelievable!"
"It seems that the Prince is unfit for the crown..."
"Why, I would rather he never sits on the throne!"
Angry, offended remarks, and among them, a voice rose reluctantly, "But if His Majesty is truly deceased, and the Crown Prince is stripped of his inheritance, then the House of Rowonne is left without heir..."
"You heard him! You cannot mean to leave our House without a leader!"
At the Prince's outburst, the Count of Valorieve huffed a triumphant smile. "You admit to the King's passing then?"
"I..." the royal blanched and fumbled with his words as gasps of shock and shouts of disbelief shook the hall.
"This is unacceptable!"
"Utterly disgraceful!"
"Has he no speck of shame?!"
Pleased with the outcry from prideful nobles, the Count returned his focus to the concerned Head of the House of Core. "Count Core, you must rest assured that is not at all my intention. I would never wish unrest on our glorious kingdom's people."
He then turned to bellow at the door, "Please, come in!"
The assembly hall faltered into perplexed silence as the doors groaned open and revealed an unfamiliar young man. He was dressed elegantly, with his dark curls tied neatly at the nape of his neck. Their suspicious gazes followed him as he walked in, long, confident strides that took him to stand next to the Count at the head of the table.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the Count of Valorieve placed a firm hand on the young man's shoulder as he announced, "before you stands His Majesty's sole remaining heir."
A wave of weary whispers spread across the table, clearly dubious of this information yet curious enough to listen as the stranger introduced himself, "I am called Bang Chan. It is an honor to be in the presence of all Your Excellencies."
"You—!" the Prince's eyes bulged, enraged. "He is a fraud! I am my father's only son!"
"Worry not," Count Valorieve calmly assured, "I have ascertained his lineage for myself and found it true. This young man right here is also a son of His Late Majesty."
"I do indeed spot the resemblance in his countenance," Count Swann mused, squinting his eyes to observe Chan as though he were a peculiar ornament.
"You must be taking this lightly, Count Swann. This matter is not alike your perfumes and jewelry," the old Count of Iriese commented in mocking. "A lookalike is easy to come by. Appearance alone proves nothing of this man's suspicious parentage."
"I understand Your Excellencies' reservations," Chan spoke up before a fight could unfold among the two counts, and it seemed to silence the hall for a bare moment. Careful words and practiced demeanor, this was what he had been preparing for all his life. "That is why I aim to provide my utmost assistance in your investigations into the legitimacy of my claim."
"Yes, and you have the support of the House of Valorieve in your endeavor," Count Valorieve nodded at his secretly adopted son. His approval of Chan would draw in the support of his faction, and eventually, the rest of the kingdom would follow. It may take years for him to gain the trust of his people, but this was for the betterment of their kingdom.
The current royal family had been nothing but a hindrance to them all. They had to be replaced.
"Have you all lost your minds? You cannot decide such matters amongst yourselves! I am your crown prince!" the Prince shouted, and his statements fell upon deaf ears. Even those within his faction seemed reluctant to defend him. Not when his actions demeaned their rights as counts and leaders.
His gaze flitted rapidly from one face to another, desperately searching for an aide when he noticed a figure who had been awfully quiet since the beginning of the meeting. A frivolous man who owed him.
"Count Sitean!" he called out, making the mentioned Count jolt in his seat. "Say something and stop these madmen!"
"I..." Count Sitean trailed away when he caught the eyes of the Count of Valorieve. Knowing, challenging eyes. He seemed to be warning him, and he fearfully recalled those masked men and the blackmail they had dangled before him.
He swallowed and averted his gaze. "I...am deeply sorry Your Highness, but perhaps it would be wise to await the trial and—"
"You too?" the Prince gaped at him then whirled within his restraints at the rest of the gathered nobility. "All of you are committing treason!"
"Treason?" Countess Soloris questioned darkly, her tone dripping with venom. She had always been an intense force to meddle with. "The only treasonous action here was the one performed by you, Prince Reval, when you concealed from us the death of our king."
"I say we have the Prince escorted out of this hall," Count Gaele prompted, sighing. "I tire of this continuous disregard of our authority."
"I second His Excellency. This discussion has grown exceedingly wearisome," agreed Count Falia, and a rumble of supporting murmurs followed. Soon enough, the Prince was led outside as he continuously demanded to be released, and a hush draped over the attendees heavily.
What a tumultuous meeting it had been.
The Count of Hitalon was the one to disrupt the quiet, speaking for the first time on this eventful evening, "Now that His Majesty has been pronounced dead, should we not begin preparations for the election of a new king among us?"
"You speak the truth, Your Excellency," Count Falia concurred. "The current heir is not of eligible age and does not seem to be of eligible mind either."
"But why must we elect a new king?"
Count Valorieve's unexpected question invited a dumbfounded silence from the nobles, who looked at him as though they might have misheard him.
"Why, this is the protocol, Your Excellency," Count Core coughed awkwardly.
"No, Your Excellencies," the Count of Valorieve shook his head in a grave motion, "We used to be the Kings and Queens of our nations before we were reduced to being Counts and Countesses. Why must we select one man to head us when we had always been leaders in our own right?"
He did not expect an answer, placing his palms against the table as he continued his long-awaited speech, "What has the royal family done besides fail us so far? The late King had done nothing but lounge on his throne and drain us of our riches in the name of a so-called tax.
"We were the ones who set the laws of our lands and enforced them. We were the ones who managed our affairs and protected our borders. What use is a king who only serves as a warmer for a coveted seat? Tell me, is this the kind of rule we were destined for?"
They were silent, but their eyes told stories of reluctance and rebellion. Count Valorieve knew that his words were blasphemous, treasonous, even, but he saw the agreement shining in their hungry eyes.
Everyone wanted power. Nobody in this hall wanted to become inferior to another. Subject to another.
He fed into that hunger, for he was of the same mind.
"This kingdom has long cried for its dismantlement," the Count added, his deep voice resonating across the room. "We do not need a king at our forefront when we are more than capable of becoming our own governors. Our people deserve better than to be subject to such a stifling law."
"Count Valorieve," Countess Soloris ventured cautiously, her tone one of warning, "Do you mean to annul the agreement that has united our land for centuries?"
"Not at all," the Count quickly amended, "No, the alliance of our nations is not subject to the condition of a single ruler. It may stand and it shall continue to stand. We can have free travel and free trade, but we can also have independence. No longer should we be tied down by the corruption of kings and princes."
He came to a stop, taking in the expressions of uncertainty, of apprehension, of ambition that illuminated the faces of his fellow leaders. This was what he and his sons had been working for. This was his greatest desire.
Some might have called it rebellion. He thought of it as liberation.
This slumbering kingdom had to be awakened, and this was the call it needed.
"So, I ask Your Excellencies again," the Count of Valorieve leaned forward, he could almost feel the wind of change on his face, "why must we elect a new king?"