The Regent put out a low, calming hand near the young monarch’s knee, but kept his eyes on the elderly courtier below.  “Quite a few lords were bewitched, but the Contra’Vagus is the best judge of such a claim.  Before final sentencing, his case will be re-examined like the rest imprisoned in the Bastille for involvement with the Baron.”  

    The old man’s eyes glittered momentarily with sanguine expectation.

    “However, I will not give you false hope, Lord Tedros,” the Regent continued.  “I am aware of the evidence against him, of his participation in learning and committing unforgivable hexes against loyal citizens.  I suspect Lord Donatien Montmercy will judge accordingly.”

    Grieved, Lord Tedros silently bowed away, disappearing into the throng.  Konstantine felt for the old man, but his empathetic thoughts on the matter were interrupted as everyone in the room began to bow or curtsy.  At once, the Regent looked to over to his right.

    The throne was now empty.

    Thumping hoofbeats suddenly took on a hollow echo as the Contra’Vagus and Elite dragoons galloped over a bridge spanning a swollen stream.  Passing a city by, they had no further need to urge their valiant mounts – the horses’ natural pace quickened with the return to familiar territory.  Great mud clots flew into the air behind them.

    Along the way, weather-weary travelers at the side of the road brightened at the sight of Corps d’ Noir, waving as they passed by.  Still in the lead, Montmercy took no time to acknowledge, eyes fixed on the road ahead.  The soaked travelers were almost disappointed, especially one awestruck maid. But the flirtateous Captain Samuel Forgeron was never one to let such an opportunity pass by!

    He did the honors himself.  With a quick but polite tug on the brim of his tricorn hat, he looked over to the dripping group with an especially charming, jaunty smile to the wide-eyed girl.  Her immediate blush promoted a boyish grin, Sam triumphantly setting his heels to his mount.

    Catching up with the Contra’Vagus to playfully boast, as it usually amused the young Duke, he peeked over, mouth open and ready to joke.

    Edouard Montmercy’s firm face could have been carved from stone.

    Captain Forgeron let his mount drop back a few yards.

    Clearly now was not the time.

    Demetrius whirled about to his mentor, “Foolish old man!  Insensitive, ludicrous request!”

    In an annoyingly calm tone, the Regent attempted to mollify him, “House Tedros has carried the King’s Colors in battle for generations.  It is not unreasonable for Lord Tedros to doubt one can turn from the family’s patriotic legacy.  It is also his right by law to come and petition –”

    “The law...  Duna’Liet’s laws harrow me!”

    Regent Konstantine maintained, “You are the King.  You have to be those laws, both great and small.”

    Demetrius’s arms folded tightly against his chest, “Those who fail to uphold them get their heads chopped off, run through... or shot, like my parents.”

    He looked up at the Regent when he did not respond.  Disappointment lanced through his fear as he noted the tightness around the eyes of Konstantine’s far-away gaze.

    Demetrius swallowed, then asked, “Were they terribly wicked?  Surely, they were if...”

    “No, Demetrius.  They were not wicked.”

    “But they weren’t perfectly good?”

    Evidently, the Regent was wrestling about being forthcoming.  That was a bad sign!  Were they tyrants?  Libertines?  Or worse–!

    Fools.