Elbellziara studied Viokern’s face, attempting to get a hint at what he was thinking. Eatha’s feast day was meant to be a holiday celebrating the unity of family. Her eldest had informed her this morning that he wouldn’t be available until dinner and her youngest had just now handed her the documents for emancipation. Viokern wished to move in with his grandfather and pursue the title of crown prince.

“Over something such as this?” She gestured to the documents in front of her. Evidence that Veximarl had passed to Viokern during their investigation of the Daughters of Iath.

“... This isn’t a matter you can ask as casually as you do the weather,” whispered Viokern.

The two of them were having tea within the indoor garden. Talking about the weather would be commonplace here. Breaking up the family was a conversion that Elbellziara wouldn’t wish to have again.

Elbellziara wasn’t insulted by her son’s offhand comment. “There is such a thing as separation of the church and government, Viokern. Laurent should have taught you that much.”

“He taught me that there are ways to manipulate people under the guise of goodwill. That people will make excuses for vile actions by stating that it was for the greater good.” Viokern folded his arms and lifted his head slightly. He won’t let his mother guilt him into believing that he was wrong about this.

“I’m well aware of how Laurent thinks. I’ve also heard rumors that the Daughters are nothing more than a facade,” replied Elbellziara. “Madam Pennyrile has wasted countless resources bribing members of the church, military, and King’s Court, all for the sake of increasing the size of her coffers.” She held up a hand. “Ginger sun!”

Viokern was feeling a cold rage burning inside of him. He could hardly match the calm demeanor that his mother held. “... How did she bribe you?”

“I received a strange letter from Volo Refuge several years ago.” Elbellziara paused as a servant walked into the room. She waited for the woman to set down a mug on the table and leave before speaking again. “Braytons’ weapons instructor had left them an interesting sword. It bore a strange crest relating to several members of the first flowered families.

They wished to know if the woman, Gru- something outrageous and vulgar sounding, had been gifted the item after defeating the assassin Bellia or if she had belonged to one of those families. Do you remember what purpose the first families held? When Lustro was born?”

“The throne, defense, morality, and the law,” replied Viokern.

The Fogbloom family wore the crown and assigned these tasks to the others. Arbutus held power over national security while the Alcea took control over the church. It was the role of the Arbutus family to act as politicians and oversee the creation of fair laws for the citizens.

“Cohesion,” corrected Elbellziara. “We, the Aconite family, kept cohesion between politics, military, and church. Our ancestors believed that cohesion could only be accomplished through a hereditary rule. Thus, this estate holds the largest genealogical records for all noble families within the Violet Region.

My historians were unable to find a connection between the weapons master and the flowered families. I didn’t think about it again until last year, when they informed me that Miss Twist had taken the blade.” She took a moment to sip her ginger sun. It was a cocktail made from orange wine and warming spices. “I had to go through the process again, to see if she had a connection to the Alcea family.

Inheritance laws give one century for any living member to claim estates belonging to their families. Both the Fogbloom and Alcea estates have been held in trust, waiting for someone to come claim them. I held a responsibility to identify Miss Twist’s origins and see to it that she is granted that inheritance.

Miss Twist was a promising squire of Braytons. She would make for an ideal candidate for reestablishing the Alcea family within Grand Temple once she graduated. I knew that Madam Pennyrile had established spies within Braytons to watch over Duxton. It shouldn’t have caused any issues for her to expand her vision over Miss Twist as well.

I later asked her to arrange for a secret meeting between myself, Alton, and Miss Twist. There is an organization called the Order of Alcea. I needed to meet with Miss Twist and show them what a monstrosity they were before they sunk their fangs into her. I needed her to be on my side if I am going to fight them.”

Viokern had been taught about the Order of Alcea. Laurent had mentioned that they were a religious faction that sought to establish historical truth within their religious texts. “There isn’t a reason to go against the Order.”

Elbelliziara held the mug in both of her hands, so that she could warm her fingers. “Just as there hadn’t been a reason to go against the Daughters? Have you truly done your research?” She stared down at her drink and smiled to herself. “This isn’t about right or wrong, Viokern. What I want is revenge.

There are times when I question if my mother died of illness. I have every reason to believe that it could have been murder. The Order pressured Wulfric to send men after Cornelius’ life. They keep me away from my father and now seek to take my son away from me.

You may come to me to speak of the curse that is Madam Pennyrile’s legacy, but you champion people who are far worse than her. Those in the Order will do nothing but poison your blood, my child. Their hands are so stained with blood that they can no longer remember the color of their skin.

As your mother, I am more than willing to fight to protect you. I weep each night and pray that you do not find yourself having the same fate as my brothers. Perhaps my death will be the only one needed to wake you up from the delusions they had planted within your head.”

Viokern stood from his seat. His mother remained composed. Her words were passionate, but her eyes and tone were dead. It was like her heart had frozen over. As though she had seen people like Viokern a hundred times before and knew all too well what sort of future they were heading towards.

Were they all nothing more than pawns? A king needs trustworthy men. He needs many hands to hold down the peace within the nation. Watching his mother speak so calmly about using and manipulating Sybil was the final nail in the coffin. She was unfit for leadership. He would put an end to her position as the Duchess of Violet.

---

A pawn found himself waking up after what felt like an eternity. Alton’s vision slowly began to unblur as he caught sight of the room around him. His gaze was immediately caught onto the fact that the room was based around threes. Three chairs, three beds, and only three walls.

What should have been a fourth wall was instead a series of bars. There was a gate that acted as a door and a vertical slot to place in food. The view led into a hall and another large room across the way, whose occupant was also locked in by bars,

So this was a zoo and Alton was the beast on display. He felt both relieved and annoyed that he wasn’t alone in this dreadful situation. Zaniyah was sitting in the bed across the room from him and Vincent was idling in a reading chair. One was content to ignore his existence while the other was happily waving at him.

“... Morning?” Alton couldn’t tell what time it was, as there wasn’t a window.

“Hi,” replied Zaniyah. “... We got arrested.”

Alton slowly nodded his head. His mind was clearing slightly. The last thing he remembered was a song, followed by darkness. “Okay? I get that, but why is he here?” He pointed at Vincent.

“They tossed him in here to take care of us,” bluntly replied Zaniyah.

“... Why?” Alton patted himself down. He didn’t seem injured.

Zaniyah glanced at Vincent and then back to Alton. “So there’s this place called the White Palace, right? And it’s this weird place where you can’t use magic at all. Problem is, I can’t walk without magic. I take one step in this place and blam!” She loudly clapped her hands together. “I can’t walk! And this guy, Protea, he’s just this massive jerk.”

“I’m well aware,” agreed Alton.

“He starts kicking me around and telling me to stand up and I’m all like, ‘Hey! I really can’t!’ Suddenly all the guards start arguing with each other because they can’t really treat me roughly, ‘cause I’m an Arbutus and all. So I was like, ‘It’s okay! If you really want me arrested, you can just carry me there! I’m not gonna resist!’

Then I look over to bitch cleric and he’s all like,” she dragged her hands down her face and stretched out her skin. It was a rather panicked expression. “I look where he’s looking and there’s a damn knife in my leg!” She angrily tapped a finger against her thigh. “Right here! Everyone there just starts screaming! He must’ve hit an artery or something, ‘cause people are literally slipping and falling in puddles of my blood!

Next thing I know, they’re carting me to the hospital faster than a hyped-up spider on miasma! Hour later, Vincent shows up vomiting everywhere and Iath just pops out and starts beating up the guards! Then McStabs the Cleric knocks out Vincent and we all get our own special room here.”

“Yes, but,” muttered Alton as he subtly gestured to Vincent with a tilt of his head, “why do we need him to take care of us?”

“‘Cause I can’t walk,” replied Zaniyah. “I mean, I sort of can, but it’s only a few steps at most. Super hard for me to move around on my own.”

“... Shouldn’t they have given you a nurse?”

Zaniyah shrugged. “They figured that Vincent had enough medical training to keep me alive and they wanted to arrest him too, so… Yep. This is life now.”

Alton shifted his line of questioning. “Then why am I here?”

“Yo, it’s been like, I don’t know how many days. None of us knew if you were gonna wake up or not.”

Alton raised an eyebrow. He then patted himself down. Aside from feeling a little hungry, he felt fine. “How am I not dead?”

Vincent began to mutter from his corner. “Intravenous nutrient therapy.”

“... Eh?”

Zaniyah began to mimic the motions of sticking in an IV drip. “They give Vincent this tube to stick in your arm and this baggy which he hands above your bed. Honestly, I was kinda worried that the drugs were the reason you wouldn’t wake up, but Vincent kept saying it would be fine.”

This was giving Alton a headache. He didn't know if it was because of his situation or his physical condition. “Someone should have come by to argue for our release.”

“You’d think so, right? I think we’re being kept locked up ‘cause they don’t want people to find out about Lydia.”

Made sense. They couldn’t keep Zaniyah locked up forever, but there were ways to make sure she didn’t see daylight for a long, long time. At least Zaniyah had the backing of the Arbutus family. Alton had concerns if Enzo would be able to find him or not.

Zaniyah pointed to the bars. “In case you were wondering, Harlea is across the way. They let her in here for a few hours ‘cause Vincent said he wanted to teach her how to read. Vex came in here with Neryx at one point to see if you were still alive, but he wasn’t allowed to talk to us.”

“Neryx?”

Zaniyah’s expression visually darkened. “... I’d rather not talk about it.” She then gestured to a wardrobe. “Did you want to get changed? They put a bunch of suits in there for you.”

Alton got up and immediately nearly doubled over. His legs were stiff and his stomach was growling loudly. “When do we eat?”

“Whenever food gets here,” replied a sarcastic Vincent. Alton was full of questions today and it was starting to get on his nerves.

At least there seemed to be some sort of schedule. Alton supposed it could be worse. He washed himself up in the bathroom before putting on a silk teal and gold suit. Perfectly tailored to his size and high in quality. There had been several brooches, watches, and other accessories set aside for him as well, but he didn’t wish to wear anything bothersome while he was a prisoner.

Being treated as an exhibition piece wasn’t completely terrible. Alton left the bathroom and was greeted by an elegant spread of food on the table. Zaniyah was already eating while Vincent was pushing a plate of food across the hall with a broom handle.

“What’s with that?” Alton gestured to Vincent.

“Harlea is still young and needs a proper diet to grow properly,” replied Vincent.

Alton glanced across the hall. Harlea had pushed a table against the bars and was hiding behind it. He could see a taloned foot reach out and grab a roasted head of broccoli from the plate, followed by a pecking noise.

Zaniyah talked around a mouthful of roast beef sandwich. “She’s worried that you’re gonna hate her ‘cause she helped kidnap Vex.” More horseradish. This needed more horseradish. She opened up the half-eaten sandwich and added a heaping spoonful of the stuff.

“I’m honestly not bothered by what happened,” replied Alton. “Not bothered at all.” He sat down in the chair next to Zaniyah. Anyone who would want to kidnap Veximarl was a possible friend of his. “... Did you want to play some chess after this?”

“What’s that?” Zaniyah perked up.

“Second board game on the top shelf of that bookcase. It’s a strategy game like haztooth blitz, but isn’t as complicated. I’ve heard it’s popular with the military.”

Zaniyah slowly nodded her head. “I guess I’ll try it.” Her gaze drifted over to where Harlea was still hiding. “My dad is going to get us out of this, right?”

She had been told over and over by Shaw that the Arbutus family held great power. They were heroes. Guardians of royalty. Everyone bent a knee to them out of respect. What she had seen during her stay here had made her feel differently. The name Arbutus was on the verge of extinction.

Her father held respect in the military but no power in the palace. The military meant nothing to politicians. Zaniyah doubted that her father actually had the power to break her out.

Alton looked over the spread. There were several dishes here that were among his favorites as a child. Good food, excellent clothes, and company with at least one person he liked. They had even stacked the room with games and books he enjoyed.

“It’s a gilded cage,” replied Alton. Built specifically to his personal tastes. “We’re not going anywhere.”