Herouxville
The Garden of the Royal Palace
“DO WE KNOW his identity yet?” Kiko was sitting on the edge of a fountain and running the fingers of his right hand over the smooth water’s surface.
“No,” the man standing next to him replied shortly. Folding wiry arms over his chest, he leaned back on the pedestal of a statue of so ancient hero and, eyes half shut, stared out into the distance. His prominent jawbone marked with scars held a bored frown.
Kiko cast an inquisitive gaze at the man.
Marcel de Gaben, head of the King’s Shadows, just shrugged in silence when he saw the look.
Out of all of Carl III’s subjects, these two were the most loyal. The Jester and the Shadow. Sotis, they worked together, other tis they were at odds. They each had their own ways of conducting business. They were not friends. In fact, they hated each other, but they were brought together by a shared life goal — to be of service to their leader. And that was the reason they had tolerated one another all these years. Both understood that each of their existences served the good of the king.
“Not a single clue?” the jester asked. “I received reports that not all the attackers were killed.”
“You probably also saw that all the attackers had poison crystals in their cheeks,” Marcel responded. “While the oafs from the city guard dragged them to the torture chamber, they all died.”
“What about Captain de Scalon?” the jester asked and laughed inside. He couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of again seeing the look of dismay on de Gaben’s face when the princess’ chief bodyguard was ntioned.
“That goody two-shoes?” Marcel snorted with scorn. “Instead of quickly interrogating the prisoners, he left them to the city guard. Idiot... Then he said a nobleman shouldn’t sully his honor by torturing prisoners.”
“That’s how we’re different,” Kiko shrugged.
“If the princess had a troop of my Shadows with her...” Marcel sighed.
“You know His Majesty surrounds the princess with the sons of his allies with good reason,” Kiko said. “In the future, they and their families will be a firm support for her.”
“I even know who that idea ca from,” Marcel snorted pointedly.
“New tis are coming,” the jester sighed sadly. “Furthermore, the captain and his people upheld their duty and defended the princess.”
“Tis never change,” Marcel shook his head. “Do not speak about what you do not understand. And yes... If they didn’t have help from so mage, who wanted to remain anonymous, the crossbown would have stuck Her Highness and her esteed bodyguards full of bolts. The princess said so herself.”
Quickly touching his chin, Marcel said:
“As for clues... It was the Atalians. I think they saw an opportunity. And decided to take it. Even though they clearly ca to the capital to force His Majesty to rush the attack.”
“You think Alfonso has sothing up his sleeve?”
“More likely the supre magister of the Scarlets,” Marcel de Gaben ca thoughtfully. “Alfonso V is a dodderer of weak character. Atalia has been ruled by fanatics clad in scarlet robes for a long ti.”
Marcel said sothing else, but Kiko was no longer listening. The king had enough military advisors without him. The jester watched Marcel’s jaw muscles dance. Few were aware that the King’s Shadow was true gifted. De Gaben passionately hated all priests and their orders.
“I will find a way to tell His Majesty your conclusions,” Kiko said when Marcel fell silent. Unlike the jester, who Carl III considered a friend (as much as possible), the king had recently been treating Marcel as nothing more than another bodyguard. “By the way... An embassy will make for the north soon. Who would you suggest as a dueler? His Majesty needs a sure thing.”
“Lord Gray, I believe would be up to the task,” Marcel replied without a second thought.
“Not feeling like shaking the dust off yourself?” Kiko smiled. “After all, His Majesty once noticed you for that particular quality. I believe it was on the border of Astland. You defeated the Count de Malé at a tournant, one of the King of Astland’s top strykers. Now would be a good chance to get His Majesty’s attention again.”
“Lord Gray can handle it,” Marcel repeated in a dispassionate tone, looking coldly at the jester.
Kiko had a hard ti not shivering under his gaze. Marcel looked unblinking like a predator getting ready to pounce. The jester knew that despite the fact they were essentially working together, one word from the king and His Shadow would be all too happy to end the life of his “vile hunchback.”
Kiko knew Marcel suspected sothing and had long been sniffing around. It all started on the day when word reached the capital that Prince Bastien and his wife had perished.
Marcel sent ten of his Shadows out with the king’s youngest son. The best of the best. A pathetic group of pirates shouldn’t have been able to kill them. For the record, Marcel fell into disfavor with the king after Prince Bastien’s passing. Carl III never forgave and never would forgive his main bodyguard for the death of his beloved son.
“And one last question,” Kiko said, suppressing his anxiety. “Ghm... The princess’ mystery defender... Her Highness has been asking the king about him every day. There are people looking for him, but I’d like your opinion.”
“He is a mage,” Marcel replied. “Although I am inclined to believe a true one.”
“Why?”
“Because we know about all the shadow gifted,” Marcel replied. “Without instructors from the guild, it’s nearly impossible to give one’s self the gift. He’d have died in initiation. But a true mage could have received instruction from family.”
“Hm... A true mage,” Kiko whispered thoughtfully and again ran a hand over the water’s surface.
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