It was his second time in the council chamber, the first being when he was called in for his mission to stop the treacherous paladin, Ganelon. As he walked in, he saw that the chamber itself hadn’t changed.

The council chamber was nothing like the throne room. The latter, much like the single pathway leading to the place, was a product of theatrics: it was a long, wide space that was designed to stir fear and nervousness into the visitor. The advisors would stand on the side, watching but never speaking, and the king sat atop his throne, the dais forcing the visitor to look up at him.

The council chamber, though, was small, and most of the space was taken up by the weathered oblong table. That elmwood table, said to be a remnant of an ancient civilization, was the one that King Gaul and his many successors had used. Upon it were many sheaves of parchment, maps and documents that held the various secrets and schemes they had been discussing before he entered the room.

The atmosphere, while still tense, was a little different from the first time he had entered the chamber. At the time, King Maxime was still ruling, and although it was said he was deadly ill, he had the same mad grin and domineering aura. His advisors shook and cowered at his every word.

King Maxime’s council consisted of over a hundred members who would be rotated in and out depending on the meeting. Propaganda said it showed the king’s tolerance for a wide range of opinions; he suspected that when the king wanted yes men, he called for the most cooperative ones out of the hundred.

Olivier had a completely different opinion. “You’ve never run an organization, so you wouldn’t understand,” he said without realizing how condescending he sounded. “All those members keep each other in check. They’ll always worry about which one is being favored, and they’ll work harder to make themselves known. And when they do want to retaliate against the king’s unfair treatment, they’ll do so not against His Majesty, but against each other. It’s a tactic to keep them divided against themselves.”

Whichever reason it was, King Mathieu had decided to take a different approach by stratifying his advisors into an inner and outer circle. While there were many outer circle members, the inner circle of advisors was small and exclusive. It was a position of great envy, and each member of this inner circle had the backing of several factions.

In the throne room, there had been about twenty advisors, but most of them were lackeys and stand-ins as it couldn’t be expected for every council member to make the time to attend. Cardinal Eudes, for example, had sent two clergymen in his stead when the king had given Roel his task a few weeks ago.

The twelve people standing around the table now were the ones that held the kingdom in their hands. The cardinal had distanced himself from him when they had entered the chamber, and all eyes were on Roel as he gave a low bow.

“Sir Roel, it is a pleasure to see you again,” King Mathieu said. As king, he was the only one sitting, but instead of his usual cedarwood throne, his chair was a simple one with long legs that looked as wizened as the table.

His younger brother had died on his orders, but the king looked the same as always. He had the usual stern expression on his face, and his thin lips were set in a straight line that indicated neither joy nor somberness.

“I apologize about my tardiness,” he said.

“Raise your head. We have heard of your good deeds. You are only doing what any virtuous paladin should do. Lady Cleo has already given her report, and she credited most of the work to you. However, there might have been details she might have forgotten. Tell us what happened.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” He told them the story that he had recited several times beforehand: how he and Lady Cleo had staged the attack, and then how he had mutilated the corpse to make it appear like the work of a cruel group of heretics.

He wasn’t worried about being exposed. If Lady Cleo had confessed about the prince, he wouldn’t have been called into the council chamber. He would’ve been discreetly detained and thrown into the dungeons of Oublietta.

He kept his eyes respectfully lowered as he spoke, but he paid close attention to the king’s body language. Ghislain had posited that someone on the council was greatly influencing King Mathieu, and he seemed so confident that Roel wanted to believe it, too. However, the king remained still throughout the whole story.

As he finished, one of the advisors spoke up. “That’s what irritates me. You made decisions that we never asked you to make.” The speaker was a barrel-chested man with a wide jawline and deep-set eyes. “I never liked the whole thing to begin with, but if we were going to kill Prince Ghislain, may his feast be bountiful, then we should’ve left his body intact. Must we further sully his dignity?”

“Hmm, I don’t normally agree with you, Duke Donat, but yes, we could’ve made more of a martyr out of the prince,” said another advisor, a young man with golden-brown curls of hair and a longsword hanging from his waist. “Put his body up on display, that kind of thing.”

“That’s not what I meant at all,” Duke Donat said, the dissatisfied frown on his face growing wider. “And those prisoners are still out there somewhere. It’s sloppy, and it doesn’t reflect well on our men.”

“I apologize, my lords. I understand why you’re disgruntled,” he said. The cardinal had told him that Duke Donat was the one supporting Lady Cleo, and it seemed like the two held similar positions about his plan. “For a mission of this scale, I didn’t want to take any risks. I wanted to create as much chaos as possible in the camp, so I freed the prisoners.

“As for the body, it was an impulsive thought that I acted upon. I reasoned that if we wanted the people to hate the Graecians, we had to give them proof of how cruel they were. Of course, I only mutilated the body after making sure the prince had passed, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that I acted on my own.”

“This is what I was speaking of when I recommended this man,” Cardinal Eudes said proudly. His soft-spoken nature was gone; the council chamber was its own battleground. “He read our intentions, and he acted in a way that would benefit our goal. He doesn’t require specific orders or long explanations.”

“You say that because you’re backing him,” Duke Donat retorted. “It’s a subject’s duty to receive and follow orders. What good is a paladin who acts on his own?”

“The result is what it is. We must proceed with what we were given.” A fourth person, an elderly man with a long white beard and a gravelly voice, had joined the conversation. “The 58th has served Calorin for twelve years, and he has demonstrated great loyalty and foresight throughout them. We can safely assume he meant no malice with his actions.”

Although the elder spoke his praises, there was no warmth in his voice. He was Cardinal Télesphore, one of King Maxime’s most respected advisors and the only cardinal aside from Eudes. It was said the cardinal had been nominated for papacy several times but had never demonstrated any interest in the position.

“We concur,” King Mathieu said. “For your duty and discretion, we have promised you a handsome reward. Name it.”

“May I give it some thought, Your Majesty?” he asked. Rewards usually consisted of money, treasures, or land. He had no need for money; he left his monetary rewards with the exchequer court, and only withdrew when he was running low.

As for land, paladins received a sizeable piece of property upon ordainment, but he had later sold it. It was eerie to come back to an empty house after a mission, and he was usually gone too often to justify employing servants.

“Very well. However, there is another matter we need to discuss.” At the king’s words, some of the advisors fidgeted, and someone cleared his throat several times. It seemed that this was the reason Roel had been called to the chamber.

“At the moment, we are waiting for an official reply from the Graecian Empire. Regardless of their answer, we will formally mobilize for war once we receive it. Of course, we are already preparing supply lines and army assignments as we speak. You may remain at the palace or travel wherever you wish, but once we received the Graecians’ reply, you will make your way back to Brackith.”

Roel kept his expression blank, but inwardly he frowned. He had just come from Brackith. Why did they want to send him back and so soon? Unless…

“You will join the duchy’s war effort,” King Mathieu said. “It should be easy to levy an army. The soldiers from the siege should be eager to fight again, and your presence will further sway the people to enlist. To wage war with the Graecians, we need the largest army we can muster.

“Your reputation as the Hero of Rove and Prince Ghislain’s companion is extremely important for this war. You and the army of Brackith cannot afford to suffer a defeat. So, we have come to several unprecedented decisions. One is that Sir Orlando, the 12th Divine Paladin, will join Brackith’s troops.” The king’s expression became graver. “The other is that you will be the one to lead the army, Sir Roel.”