Chapter 52

"But when the crown principalities on high are cloaked in treachery, their subjects will be coerced to pollute their colours and be tainted. Unshakeable righteousness hath no part with wickedness, but those blurring the demarcations: they fall victim and lose the hues of their core."

~

The Official Chambers of the Magisterial Regent,

The Imperial Castle,

Kingdom of Tristendyre,

The first Phrinight of the Second month,

XXI Year of Regency

Regent Jehoram waited restlessly as he paced the portion of his bureau, by the side of the long arched window whose lattice was removed.

His hands were caressing the long arrow whose head was a four-faced hook and a long rope of Ryfletch reeds at its tail.

His men stationed at various parts of the city around the Castle had brought him news that a foreign bird had made flight towards the Chief Physician's wing.

He was unsure of its purpose and message, but wished to be safe, for his affairs were far too dark to be disclosed by any means. Lady Minerva was a person of much faculty and reputations. It was not a case he could risk to take slightly.

'Judgement also will I lay to the line, and righteousness to the plummet: and the hail shall sweep away the refuge of lies, and the waters shall overflow the hiding place.'

The words she had interpreted earlier that eventide began echoing in the drowning depths of his mind like they were a curse crowning him.

The anxious tension of these sayings caused the man with a black moustache to grip his weapon tighter.

He had a great amount of dealings and business ongoing that could cost him the ire and revolution of the people. However, if he could come to accomplish the deeds, he would be invincible.

For his game to reach its phase of triumph, he required Princess Mercedes, for his most secretive and important subject was predicated upon her.

He had the great 'Incarnation Warlock' Undertaking placed deeply beneath the Secret-Underground and their project ventures could not see progress without the absolute presence of the dynastic melanin-clad damsel.

The only means to retrieve her from the Kingdom of Hyll-Decanta, where Jaycob had mentioned to have detected her, was through the Royal Archer himself.

However, there were various things trying his mind: Jehoram could not afford to send the masked and mysterious Archer to fetch the Princess because his own Kingdom needed the man's power of Archery within the Precincts of the Land to ensure adequate defence.

But if he was to be sent to bring Mercedes, such course of action could not entirely be trusted, for Devland had confided in him of Jaycob's practicing a pact with Adon-Vericus, King of Hyll-Decanta.

Now, the Regent knew that he was the one to compel the cunning Archer into feigning such loyalty to the man, but for the cleverness that was Jaycob's he could not distinguish masquerade and candour.

Per-haps, he had preferred to trust Jaycob, but the stern confirmation that the Arch-Eccleissor had imposed was enfettering. Regent Jehoram almost hoped there were no evidences against the favour of Jaycob Oreius.

However, he had stayed the Royal archer from making his next journey to Hyll-Decanta; the masked man had sounded much too inspired to travel his way thereto.

Such enthusiasm had proved suspicious to his eyes after the surmise imparted to his judgement by Devland that Jaycob may have violated the fealty.

The Regent's gaze hardly strayed from the window, for he was keenly watching for the potential advent of the golden bird.

It was a curiously considerable period ever since his bid to Jaycob, commanding him to bring the keys of the dungeon, and he had not arrived in commission for such long a time.

This single olive-haired man held the prowess of both fulfilling and crippling the Regent's every endeavour.

His faithfulness was unsettling, like his intentions of integrity were far from his words, but there had never been a single deed on his works and agenda that wandered from fidelity.

He awaited the Archer's presence, which he had sent for; and as expected, there was a prim knock at the door.

"Enter", Regent Jehoram called, hand stroking his moustache whilst his eyes were stayed on the great night-apparelled outdoors.

~

Sir Jaycob Oreius stepped into the cold Chamber of the Regent, eyes rising to meet the face of the man whose dark hair was seeing the colours of peppers and salt, with a sombre moustache to match.

"Sire", he reported, giving him a slight bow and dutiful gesture.

The tall archer had been nervous for a great deal whilst he made his way to the Regent's bureau, for he was unaware of all the consequences of Devland's schemes that awaited him.

Sir Kenley had wished him a fortunate turn of affairs and Jaycob had taken the goodwill before departure.

Prior to stepping into the presence of Jehoram, he had draped his blood soaked cloak, with intentions of his own.

The Regent had not noticed his appearance, but seemed much calmer than the masked Archer had expected of a man that would bear an ill impression. Oddly, the man's attention was strictly focussed on the night outside his window.

"What has drunk such a great deal of your time?", was the question posed and Jaycob shifted his weight.

"I was caught in a deathly trap and narrowly escaped with my life alone salvaged", said the olive-haired man. It wasn't entirely false, but it was certainly not the unalloyed truth.

The Regent turned to spare him a glance of horror like that was the one excuse the man had least expected.

"Who was the assassin?" asked he.

The man's eyes washed over the scarlet hues that stained the most part of his cloak. Although the blood owed its origin to the young Elise Xavier, Jaycob did not receive occasion to lie regarding the matter, for Jehoram had assumed by himself that it was Jaycob's.

"I am unaware, Your Honour; the assassin was clad in dark robes and their face was masked. It was surprising that they had even found their way into the Under-Ground Dungeons", said he, his demeanour still meaning respect and chivalry, as though he was innocent of the Dark Organisation he had found.

The Regent's eyes turned back to the window like he was keeping watch for something significant.

"I am glad you did not yield", said the man although it was evident from his shock that he held no stake in the attempt of claiming the archer's life.

Further, Jaycob understood that Jehoram bore recognition of the garments to be the guise ordained to the men and women engaged in the secret and dark organisation beneath. Hence, it was potential that the Regent was avoiding such subject for it was to be undisclosed to Jaycob.

The message, however, had duly reached its destination.

Now, the Archer could not divulge the identity of the person, for it would be greatly accurate, but the Arch-Eccleissor would be the single other suspect who would be presumed murderer behind the attempt.

There could be no means to vouch his innocence in the issue and Jaycob was a victim who was to ensure that he knew naught of the Organisation, for he did not know wherefore the business was withheld from him.

If he would fiddle into the nuances thereof, he would make sure to do so in secret, unless specifically told of the mysteries by the Regent himself. After all, he did not know what the man would do to him, if Jaycob disclosed his secrets.

There seemed to be a sharp bladed arrow in Jehoram's grip and he gave it to the tall archer, saying: "Now I have this desire of your accurate artillery:"

Jaycob nodded, although unaware of what this odd commission seemed to be.

"Step here", the Regent said, taking a tread back to yield the masked Archer's footing some space. "There was a foreign bird making voyage to our castle. I require you to smite it and cause its body brought here", said Jehoram.

Jaycob nodded before casting his gaze out the long arched window that had been relieved of its lattice.

"There! Shoot, at once!", the Regent panicked upon sighting the fair-coloured bird with two pairs of wings, taking flight towards the promontory and beyond.

Jaycob steadied his stance, held his arm up for focus and aim and purposed in his mind: the heart of his moving target.

In a trice, the arrow was propelled from his grip and found its four-headed hook attacking the pulsing heart of Altair.

~