The incident in Eastgarden had seized the attention of the Noble Council. This body was directly under the Queen of Eirabelle’s command and powerful enough to sway her decisions. This matter was not supposed to reach the council chamber, for the cause of the uproar was none other than Anna’s own son. Yet one member of the council had been personally affected by the event. He pushed the others into convening a meeting. That member was the Barani prophet.

Rudolph Baran. He did not look like a messenger of God. He had neither curly hair nor a thick beard, nor did he possess a serene face. Instead, tattoos covered his left arm, which he always tried to conceal beneath proper clothing—though never fully masking his disgrace. Yet among everyone in this chamber, Baran had the sharpest political awareness and the best command of his emotions.

Behind a long, curved ebony table, five of the six chairs were filled by the heads of the great noble houses and other influential figures of Eirabelle, each bearing their role in shaping the nation. While Anna had not yet arrived, they conversed among themselves.

“First, allow me to apologize, my lords, for calling this meeting so suddenly. But this is a matter that concerns us all,” Baran began formally.

“Does it not only concern your own interests, Lord Baran?” interrupted the fattest member, whose voice was also the most grating. “We are wasting our time.”

“Please, do not interrupt, Lord Oliver.” Baran responded with elegance, proving he already understood the temperament of everyone in the room. “I must stress this is a matter for us all, for the Barani have for years stood as the vanguard and backbone of Eirabelle’s political stability. If you do not care, you are free to leave your chair.”

Oliver fell silent.

“I agree with Lord Baran,” added another member, one with spectacles. “This involves Her Majesty’s son. That means the future of the realm is at stake.”

“Thank you for your understanding, Lord Gerald.”

“By the way, what is the boy’s name?” asked a bald-headed member with a bearded jaw.

“Aiden Lewis,” Baran answered, frowning. “Have you not met him, Lord Tudor?”

“No. Perhaps you forget—I am the newest member of this Noble Council.”

“Ah, so you are,” Baran replied. “The four of us have met him, but only once or twice in his childhood. We do not know his face as it is now.”

“Aiden...” Tudor repeated the name thoughtfully. “It resembles his brother’s. Though his nature, I suspect, does not.”

“Speaking of his brother, we have never once seen Prince Elden at these meetings,” Gerald remarked, glancing at the empty chair beside him. “He ought to be here—he is responsible for the Department of Defense. Every military policy depends upon him.”

“I believe Prince Elden can no longer be measured against us,” said Baran. “At any moment he could be the one standing before us, seizing every policy with an iron hand. Still, at least he would never do anything to burn down all we have built. Unlike Prince Aiden, who seems to have little grasp of the consequences of his actions.”

“I think so too,” Tudor chimed in. “From what happened in Eastgarden, Prince Aiden seems the type to be naïve and impulsive, led by his feelings rather than logic. Quite the opposite of his brother.”

“You are correct,” Baran interjected. “They are like mirrors reflecting opposites. I am certain Queen Anna treats them differently. Whatever her designs may be, if Prince Aiden is not restrained soon, the consequences could be dangerous. Let us hope it does not come to that. Amen.”

Tudor and Gerald both nodded.

“Fortunately both my children are girls. This is what happens when you have two sons—they quarrel constantly, troublesome,” Oliver quipped again. “Let us hope Queen Anna does not bear another child.”

“Mind your tongue, Lord Oliver!” At last, the member who had been silent until now spoke up. He was the calmest and oldest among them, but also the sternest whenever Anna and her family were slighted. “Do not think that because you are the greatest benefactor in this chamber you may speak as you please!”

“Peace, Lord Hendrik, I was only jesting. We all know Queen Anna has long been widowed and refuses to remarry. She will not have more children.”

Baran fixed his eyes on Oliver, rebuking him. His tone was dangerously personal. “It seems you are not taking this meeting seriously. I warn you, Lord Oliver, hold your tongue! Do not ever speak so carelessly in public!”

This time Oliver was truly silenced by the prophet’s threatening gaze.

The chamber doors opened, and the figure they awaited at last arrived. They were accustomed to Anna’s cold expression, yet today her face was darker than ever. She wore a long black gown that contrasted with the gold ring upon her left hand. If one looked closely, the ring bore an engraving: Annie. None noticed that she only wore this ring during council meetings. Its presence disturbed the members on a subconscious level.

Anna was younger by decades than the others, yet her authority was the greatest. None dared speak as she strode indifferently to the corner of the room. Her skirt whispered against the floor. Instead of opening the session, Anna reached for a watering can and tended to the ornamental geraniums in the corner. “Speak quickly. I have no wish to linger,” she said flatly, without looking at them.

The members exchanged hesitant glances.

Baran dared to speak. “If I may, Your Majesty. Regarding the incident in Eastgarden involving your son and my followers—have you taken action?”

“I will see to it.”

“We—particularly me, as leader of the Barani—require an answer more satisfying, transparent, and decisive. I question your decision to recall Prince Aiden at such a young age—sixteen. We had agreed he would return at twenty, Your Majesty.”

Anna ceased watering, walking toward Baran. Her eyes blazed, glaring into the prophet’s. “It seems you forget your place, Rudolph. I am not your servant.”

“Forgive me if I speak too boldly, Your Majesty,” Tudor cut in. “But Baran is right—we need clarity of vision. You have not yet named a crown prince. And after seeing that Prince Aiden seems to oppose the regime—if things continue as they are, the Common Council will rise again, and the political stability of this realm will falter.”

“I propose the immediate appointment of a crown prince, in light of the Eastgarden incident that will eventually be exposed and endanger us all,” Gerald suggested.

“I support whatever brings greater profit,” Oliver said.

Serpents, every one of them, Anna cursed inwardly.

Aloud she said, “I know each of you has your own interest. But let me be clear: when it comes to my son, I will not heed a single word of your counsel. This is a warning. If you meddle in my household again, I will not hesitate to remove you.”

“I do not meddle in your household.” Baran spoke boldly, meeting Anna’s eyes without fear. “It was your son who meddled with my interests first. Anna, we have an agreement that must be kept.”

“How dare you!” Anna flared, striding toward him as though ready to strike.

The atmosphere erupted in heat.

Hendrik rose from his chair to intervene. “Enough, Princess Anna!”

“I am no longer a Princess. Call me Queen!”

Hendrik’s eyes widened, shocked—for he had known Anna since her youth. “This is not you. Come to your senses, before you are consumed by the role!”

Anna struggled to cool her temper, steadying her breath. The tension was subdued; each returned to their seats.

Baran continued, voice lower. “Forgive my boldness, Your Majesty. I meant no insult to your private affairs. I merely wished to remind you of the agreement we must uphold. Forgive me once more.”

Baran had studied them all—even Anna: how they reacted, lost control, felt low or high, and how best to handle it. He bowed after luring the lioness within Anna to the surface.

“To us,” Baran added, “You are is the divine embodiment itself, unquestionable, our Goddess.”

Anna’s eyes still burned. “You want a satisfying answer? Then hear this: I will ensure my son does not threaten your interests, though he is beginning to uncover our facade. I will be firm—with him, as I am with you.” She concluded: “Is there anything else before I end this session?”

“Permission, Your Majesty,” Tudor raised his hand. “The rebels in Delara seem bolder of late. It is likely they are supported by Langdon of the Common Council. The Interior Department has gathered evidence linking Langdon to the Underground Movement. In my judgment, the evidence is enough to drag him to the gallows and crush his sympathizers. Has you prepared measures against this, Your Majesty?”

Anna answered, “I have entrusted the matter fully to Prince Elden. Do not disrupt his plans. Langdon is no fool—he hides behind civil law. But do not worry, I will not let him escape again. I will catch that rat!” Her words were deeply personal, no less sharp than when she had threatened Baran. “If there is nothing more, I shall end this meeting.”

They all nodded assent. The session closed.

After Anna departed, the five council members lingered, chatting idly as they stretched their limbs, waiting for their servants to fetch them.

“Feels like we’ve just been drilled in a military school,” Oliver remarked.

“Oh, you did not know?” Gerald said. “Queen Anna graduated from the Winterhold military academy. Her firstborn, the Lord Protector, is also a Holdan—and in fact now commands the order. Her father, King Aaron, was a former warlord. I am not sure about her husband, but rumor says he too had military ties. Only Prince Aiden lacks such a background.”

“No wonder she is so formidable,” Oliver muttered. “I should hold my tongue about her from now on.”

“That would be wise—if you value your life,” Gerald quipped.

“You are well-read, Lord Gerald,” Tudor praised.

“Thank you. I enjoy biographies of great figures.”

Oliver turned to Baran. “How is your spirit, Lord Baran?”

Baran gave a slight gesture. “Well enough, Lord Oliver.”

“That bishop is mad, daring to challenge Queen Anna and address her without her title.” Oliver handed his satchel to his servant. “I’ll be going ahead, everyone!”

“Yes. Take care!”

One by one they left the chamber, until only Baran and Hendrik remained. They alone did not wait for servants, as neither came from noble houses. Baran was still busy with his notebook, but he knew Hendrik was watching him.

“Not leaving yet, Lord Hendrik?” the prophet asked.

Hendrik spoke bluntly, his tone sharp: “I have heard of your agreement. You and Princess Anna manipulate society and history to control the masses. You gather support from your followers, while Princess Anna grants you a place in her government. You use each other, and you undermine each other...”

“... I have observed you for long. You are a cunning opportunist, mad with power. You will do anything to protect it. I know this pact comes from both sides. But let me warn you, Lord Baran—” Hendrik’s voice cut like steel—“do not dare plot harm against Princess Anna or her children, especially Prince Aiden! If you do, I will expose your vile truth!”

Baran paused.

“Well, Lord Hendrik, you send shivers down my spine,” the prophet said with a smile. “You are truly competent and loyal. No wonder you were entrusted with a seat on this council since King Aaron’s reign.” Baran closed his notebook and slipped it into his satchel. “You have heard it from me myself: to us—the Barani, Queen Anna is the divine embodiment. How could I ever mean her harm?”

“You are insane.”

“We are all insane. None truly care for the common good. We only guard what we have and what we believe. Whether we realize it or not, so do you.” Baran hefted his satchel and walked to the door. But before leaving, he said, “Lord Hendrik, of all the members of this council, I like you best.”

Next Chapter: Chapter 7: Seeing