Oathbreaker: A Dark Fantasy Web Serial

Arc 5: Chapter 10: Crisis and Command

We returned to the castle hours before dawn. Immediately, it became clear something was wrong.

There were more guards at the gate than usual, including a contingent Storm Knights, the elite garrison of the Fulgurkeep. I recognized them by the brassy sheen of their steel plate, treated to give it a hue very near gold, and the sea-blue cloth of their capes and surcoats. Every tower had been festooned with lit braziers and alchemical lights in unison, making the massive castle complex and its bridge gates seem as though they had erupted like a smoldering volcano.

I was stopped at the gate by sentries with hard eyes and twitching hands. After announcing myself and putting them at relative ease, I recognized one of them and grabbed him by the shoulder before going through.

“What’s happening?” I asked. Even as I spoke, a group of armored riders emerged from the gate and tore into the city at speed.

The knight turned his attention to me. Ser Moonbrand was a Karledaler, one of Rosanna’s veterans who’d integrated into the castle’s royal guard in order to help bridge her people and her husband’s. Though he wore the brassy plate and blue cloth of a Storm Knight, the medallion worked into his armor’s heart protector remained emblazoned with the star of House Silvering.

I’d known him since well before his clipped hair had gone fully gray. Moonbrand had an angular face, gaunt cheeks, and a thin mouth almost always set in sour disapproval. Most notable was the scar tissue marring the right side of his face, very similar in color to frostbite. His right eye had a paler color than the left, closer to silver than blue.

Despite his fastidious manners, I knew him to be a fierce man-at-arms. He’d been my first choice to take on Emma’s training, if something were to happen to me. The knight’s mismatched eyes lit up when he saw me.

“Hewer.” He nodded a greeting. “I thought you’d been called back. You haven’t heard?”

“Apparently not,” I said dryly. Somewhere out in the city, bells were ringing. “What is all this?”

“There was an attack,” Ser Moonbrand told me, then corrected himself with a grimace. “Several attacks. We’re still getting reports in, but so far we’ve had news of at least six different assaults across the city.”

“Six?” I asked dumbly. “On who?”

“Lord Halburan and his wife are both dead,” Moonbrand said in a grim voice. “Ser Alencourt is in critical condition. They brought him in half an hour ago. He’d been in the city celebrating the birth of a son. He… looked in a bad way.”

Ser Alencourt was another Fulgurkeep elite, a veteran like Moonbrand and well respected. I did not know the other name.

Moonbrand lowered his voice. “It very much all seems coordinated. We’ve got the palace locked down until we learn more, on the Lord Steward’s order.”

“My disciple and I were attacked,” I told him, then provided the details.

“Marions?” Ser Moonbrand’s skin lost some color. “You’re certain?”

“Intimately.” I nodded to the castle. “I need to go.”

“The Emperor and the Lord Steward are both in the council chamber,” Moonbrand informed me. “I’ll take you there directly. You’re the only one whose seen the attackers so far and can talk. The council will want to hear.”

“So we weren’t the only ones,” Emma said to me as we passed into the ‘Keep with the knight some paces ahead. “Perhaps this wasn’t personal after all?”

“My thought too,” I said. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. I’d expected assassins would try me at some point. This, on the other hand…

I quickened my pace. Before we passed into the waiting maw of the Fulgurkeep, my eyes were drawn up by the crack of stony wings.

The castle’s gargoyles were all awake, and circling the towers in flocks.

I am not only tall, but brawny, and that combined with the glint of gold in my eyes, my black armor, and my red shroud made most give way for me. The presence of a Storm Knight helped as well, and soon enough I’d been ushered up myriad flights of stairs and regal corridors to where the Emperor waited. Despite the late hour, or early hour, the castle had come alive.

As though we’re under siege, I thought. Hell, perhaps we were.

Every step up those countless stairs felt like a dirk in my leg, and some smaller but no less keen blade in my chest. I tried to hide the discomfort, but Emma noticed.

“You shouldn’t be on your feet,” she muttered.

“No choice,” I said. “It’s just pain. I’ll be fine.”

Emma said nothing, but I sensed her concern. I put it from my thoughts.

The guard admitted me into the same room where I’d had my meeting with Markham earlier in the day. The previous day, as we were already well past midnight. They kept Emma outside, which I knew frustrated her, but she caught my face and settled back to wait in the hall with some other servants and lesser officials.

Markham stood at the head of the long war table, with a number of attendants and councilors I recognized. The Lord Steward towered over the gathering, his hands clasped behind his back and his cherub’s face set in an expression of dour concentration.

Oradyn Fen Harus was there in the background, his sagely visage tempered by the dire atmosphere. I also noted Ser Jocelyn, the Ironleaf Knight, whose company of errant adventurers had come to the city for the tournament. He wore his armor of brassy scales and green chain with all its medals, as he had every time I’d seen him, his almost effeminate features serene.

Rosanna was there at her husband’s side. I froze at the sight of her, then mastered myself and redirected my attention.

The First Sword of House Forger, whose true name I hadn’t learned but who many called the Twinbolt Knight for his helmet, listened to Ser Moonbrand whisper into his ear before nodding and taking me straight to the Emperor. Markham was in the middle of listening to a report from a harrowed looking messenger I suspected had sprinted across half the city, by his red face and breathless voice.

When the council heard I’d seen the attackers, all fell silent and turned to me. I felt Rosanna’s green eyes on me, but forced myself not look at her.

“They were Marions,” I told them. “A group of them, directed by a puppeteer using a miniature stage as a focus.”

When they started asking me for details, most of the questions coming from the officials present and not Markham or his head advisor, I told most of the story. I left out Catrin’s involvement, only saying we’d survived the attack due to still being awake when it started.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“A single puppet master couldn’t have conducted an attack on this scale,” the Steward said to Markham.

He was right. I especially didn’t think that frightened old man Catrin had captured could have. Then again, appearances could be deceiving. There was every chance he’d prepared his own creations to silence him if he were caught.

But why would he have been close to me in a poor dock district, if he’d been coordinating attacks across the city? No, it didn’t add up.

One of the councilors present, a middle aged man whose name I didn’t know, spoke up. “I have a report here that the Lady Sandra was set upon by men wearing the colors and gear of city guard. She killed one of them, and the rest committed suicide before her own guards could apprehend them.”

The man lifted his eyes from the letter. “Their identities are presently unknown, and this report came in half an hour ago. There is nothing here about animate puppets.”

I folded my arms, taking that new information in.

“And what of the Lady Sandra?” The Steward asked.

The courtier who’d given that report swallowed. “Dead, my lord. She expired from her injuries in her estate, according to this letter. It is from her eldest son.”

“God be with them both” the Royal Clericon said, her aged face tensing with sympathy.

Rosanna turned to me. “What became of the assassin you encountered, Ser Headsman?”

She was very much the Empress then, all business. She’d been woken in the middle of the night, and though she looked every inch the monarch, she lacked much of the more elaborate accoutrements I’d seen her in most other occasions. She had two handmaidens with her, both young and silent, as well as Lisette, a young cleric who’d become one of her personal attendants. Ser Kaia, armored and acting in her role as the Empress’s personal knight just as the Twinbolt was to Markham, loomed nearby.

“Dead,” I told them. “One of his own puppets shot him before I could get answers.”

Someone along the long war table scoffed. I didn’t catch who.

“And you just happened to be awake in the dead of night, and survive multiple attackers?” One of the noblemen present asked me, not bothering to hide his skepticism.

I met the speaker’s gaze. It hadn’t been so long now that everyone had forgotten about my raid on Rose Malin, and I have been told I have a dour glare. He flinched. I turned to speak to Markham.

“I got lucky, Your Grace. How many attacks were there?”

“We have reports of seven so far,” the Steward answered. “We believe there are more.”

My heart sank, even as one of the nobles present gave voice to the thought I suspected went through every head. “Are we under attack? Is this war?”

Markham stared at the piling missives being dropped in front of him, then lifted his eyes to the room. More than thirty people, all powerful, all important in his government, and all very afraid, met that royal gaze.

“So far,” the Emperor said, “these have all been isolated attacks on individuals. The culprits have all used different methods — Marions attacked Lord Alken, assassins disguised as guardsmen invaded the mansion of Lady Sandra, and Ser Alencourt was stabbed in a tavern by a serving maid in front of several of my own officers. We are still verifying the rest, but everything here indicates that these assaults have been individualized. Only the timing seems coordinated.”

“What of this maid who stabbed your captain, Your Grace?” One of the nobles asked.

Markham’s lips twisted into a deeper scowl. “Dead. She committed suicide half a block away, just as those guards who set upon Lady Sandra did.”

I frowned, looking at the pile of missives on the table. Messengers were coming in and adding to it every few minutes, most of them from guard captains and other officials out in the city. “Who have been the rest of the targets so far?”

The Steward answered in clipped, formal tones. “Lord Halburan of House Rathur, along with his wife and daughters, were killed by what seems to be some sort of alchemical device. Poisonous gas, poured into their manor. Ser Brackswine, a knight from the Gylden, and several of his friends were shot on a gondola in the lagoon while taking a night of leisure. Lady Elmira of House Worthy and her lover, a mercenary from the continent, were both poisoned at a gala. We have also heard that Ser Tegan of House Barker was found just an hour ago some blocks from his father’s estate, badly beaten.”

“Ser Tegan?” I asked, stunned. I’d just seen the man the day before, healthy and cheerful. Then, something else clicked into place in my thoughts. Lady Elmira was a famous duelist, and I had heard rumors that Alencourt had been picked by the Storm Knights to represent them in the upcoming competition.

“Lord Halburan,” I asked no one in particular, cutting through the noise. “And Lady Sandra… were they both fighters?”

Rosanna glanced at me, her attention mirrored by the Steward. Ser Jocelyn, not far away and in earshot, also perked up. The Emperor didn’t look up from his reports, but I sensed he listened.

“Lord Halburan is… was a famed warrior from Reynwell’s eastern countryside,” the Empress informed me. “Lady Sandra is not, but her son just recently returned from errantry. He was the one who found her.”

I inhaled deeply. “These are all tourney knights.”

More of those nearby fell quiet. Markham finally looked up from the table.

The Steward lifted his drooping brow, giving me a glimpse of one bright blue eye. Then, with a hesitance uncharacteristic for the royal advisor he said, “We would have to check the lists, but…”

“Ser Jocelyn was attacked here in the palace,” Markham said.

We all turned to the Ironleaf, who gave a hesitant nod. In his almost shy alto the glorysworn knight said, “I did not see my attacker. They vanished into the corridors.”

“You are unharmed?” Rosanna asked.

Ser Jocelyn bowed, causing his brown hair to fall around his face. “I am well, Your Grace.”

“We are having every nook and cranny of the fortress searched,” the Steward told us. “The Fulgurkeep is large, but we have ensured there are no idle hands. Even still…”

“We cannot discount the possibility these attacks have not ended.” The Empress finished the advisor’s statement. “If this happened anywhere else, I would think it a coup. However…”

Markham finished for his wife. “No one of high station has been targeted, so far as we know. None of the monarchs. The most notable name among these was Halburan's. He was one of my barons.”

Rosanna lifted her thumb to her lips, stopping just short of biting the nail. I remembered the old habit. “If whoever is behind this did have targets of higher station, then they have certainly tipped their hand. We are on alert now.”

The Lady Ark, who’d been present in the room but silent until then, replied to the Empress. “Perhaps it was meant to create panic, Your Grace? Get this exact reaction from us?”

“Or make our city seem unsafe,” the Steward suggested softly to Markham. “To undermine your credibility, Your Grace.”

That chilled me. I had suspicions about Yith’s actions being meant to ferment fear in the city. Was he behind this? Then, another thought came on the tail of that.

“Where are the Vykes?” I asked.

The Lord Steward gave me a dip of his chin. “Our guests from Talsyn have been alerted to these happenings, and are being kept secure in their chambers. No harm will come to them, not under the Fulgurkeep’s protection.”

Fancy code for we have them under watch, and they aren’t going anywhere. I gave him a sharp nod, oddly grateful for the usually frustrating advisor in that moment.

Markham placed hand on the table. Something about his manner drew the room’s attention. When all had gone quiet, the Emperor spoke to the lords and ladies who’d gathered in the orotund tones of authority. “Regardless of the reasons or purpose, we have come under attack. This will not stand, and those responsible will be found. Justice will be meted out.”

His steely eyes ran across the nobles, lingering on me. I felt a moment of trepidation, sensing something in that look.

“Some of you in this room are already aware,” Markham continued. “But just yesterday, Alken Hewer, who some call the Headsman of Seydis, was restored to the peerage.”

Stunned silence. Somehow, I think that surprised many of them as much as it had me when it had happened. I did my best to stand straight, look suitably dour, and pretend like I wasn’t venting half the fluid in my body through my ribs just then. Hopefully, I didn’t start to drip.

Markham turned to me. “As of this moment, Ser Headsman, you are being given your first official order. By my authority as Emperor, I command you to find who is responsible for these attacks and bring them to justice. Learn their reasons, their benefactors, find any and all who might have given them aid or succor. Use any means at your disposal to bring this evil into the light.”

This time, I wasn’t taken so fully off guard. Aware of the many eyes on me, I knelt and dipped my head, even as my injured knee let out a despairing scream of protest. Hiding my wince I said, “It will be done, Your Grace.”

“Rise,” Markham ordered. I did, just managing not to wobble.

The Emperor studied me a moment, then turned to the courtiers. “Questions will be asked. Whoever did this had resources. All of you will cooperate with Ser Alken, or you will answer to me.”

He’s making this as official as he can, I realized. It might not get the whole city to open their doors to me, but it was a start at least.

It also made me a target. If anyone involved stood in this room, or heard about this…

I put it out of my mind. I’d gone up against long odds before. And I had it now, the thing I’d been looking for.

A course.