LXXIX
The confirmation of Prince Julian's return caused waves.
Unlike the swollen chatter of before, the chair's announcement first weighed a hush in the senate, suspending them in a state of disbelief and shock. As the committee continued with their assessment, ripples of gasps pulsed outward, the stunned silence becoming slow mutterings.
The stranger that had walked in on their chamber from out of nowhere was King Fabian's dead younger brother and former expectant to the throne. More than wondering about just James, it opened the door to some hesitant revelations.
What did this mean for King Fabian?
James sat by, numbly melting into the scene around him. He thumbed Eris, his eyes unfocused, but he'd known he'd get nothing back from her. She was silent, dormant. After all, she'd asked him not to come to this place and James had betrayed their bond by doing so.
King William did most of the talking, thankfully. Although the senate hung off every single one of his words, there wasn't a single gaze that wasn't trained on James, trying to pierce through his skin. He paid no mind to it.
Despite witnessing the temple's interference first-hand, they'd decided to keep it to themselves for the time being. And it wasn't the only thing they'd decided to keep hidden.
"Senator Bladwell," the committee called.
The man stood. "Thank you, chair."
James inspected Eris' worn grip, the leather fraying and faded around the shape of his hand. She needed a new one.
"I appreciate the committee's forthcomingness in explaining the certainty of Prince Julian's identity.
It leaves little room for doubt and I think I can say on behalf of all my colleagues how incredible the news of His Royal Highness' survival is.
" There was some noise of agreement and James dug his nail under Eris' grip, testing its durability.
"Whilst a joyous occasion, I address this question to Prince Julian, himself.
As we are all wondering, we ask you to explain what happened on that sad day, why you've kept yourself in hiding, and what your purpose is, coming back here. "
Shouts of agreement surrounded. Whilst James had recounted the events to the committee earlier that day, the senators had been kept in the dark.
Not only did James not have any evidence of his claims, but King Fabian was greatly pitied and loved by the people, regardless of the murder of red-eyed people.
It was to be expected. Many commoners didn't know why the knights had killed those people in the first place. The nobles, James had come to learn, had been warned before the event. Any rare individual with red eyes within the nobility was sent abroad before the purge began.
King Fabian had just been an impressionable and scared child at the time of the order, the nobles would say. He hadn't been the only one pushing for it either.
It was just an immature mistake.
Whilst the committee contemplated a way to shoot the question down, James stood.
"Your sentiments are kind, senator," James spoke, his old accent cottoning his mouth. "But this inquest is irrelevant to the past. Whilst I'm sure you are all curious, the committee is being endlessly patient with the chamber but it seems that kind consideration isn't being returned."
James understood allowing as many senators to speak as possible, his appearance was, after all, a historical event. But it was dragging and their questions achieved nothing.
He promptly fell into his seat once again. Thankfully, the committee didn't scold his brashness.
"Indeed," Chair Artair said. "The proposed matter is a pressing one. So, from this point forth, questions irrelevant to the closed inquest will be dismissed harshly. And so, we shall begin."
James numbly stared off into the distance, not consciously listening as King William parted his opening speech.
Removed from the flow of time, James zoned out, caressing Eris as he thought about retrieving some of his hidden money to gift her an expensive grip.
He had thousands of gold pieces saved up.
"What does Prince Julian think about these claims?" someone said.
James looked up. Although he hadn't been listening, he'd remembered exactly what they'd said about the broken trade deals.
"Are we to believe that King Fabian has suddenly corrupted himself to start a war?" the senator continued. "His Majesty has had an almost perfect record. I don't see how he benefits from this. And I think it's downright unjust that he is not here to explain himself! Who is the corrupt one here?"
The matter was swiftly addressed without James' input, with King William ending his explanation with: "I'd like to make it clear to the senators that this is not a criminal trial.
This is a formal request for permission to utilise my military and save the lives of thousands of people.
Isn't the point of having three kings so that we can prevent tyranny such as this? "
Many protested that it was against King Fabian's character to attempt such a reckless and fatal plan, even with the overseers for trade testifying to King Fabian's breaking of formal contracts with the Esparians.
The civil servants' hands were tied, unable to remain faithful to the deal.
The Esparians were only maintaining fragile patience thanks to King William's placations.
There was no doubt many of their people had died from starvation over winter.
Despite all of the testimony, the senators were still unable to consolidate the pitiful image they had of King Fabian in their minds and the claims they were hearing. This was precisely why they weren't ready to hear James' recount of his parents' deaths. They never would've believed him.
It felt insulting. James had desperately held on to this secret, his life as a hostage, that no one would have believed anyway.
James could've spat it out on the pavement and it would've been trampled over and smeared under hundreds of shoes.
Meanwhile, he'd been slowly poisoned by those paltry revelations he'd repeatedly swallowed.
What had it all been for?
"This could easily be a case of negligence," a senator went on to argue. "Whilst an awful case of it, yes, there is no evidence this was a deliberate attempt to start a war."
The inquest was no longer a matter of proving Fabian's dangerous activity but, rather, his shining character.
A bell rang out, pulled from outside to mark the falling of the sun. The day had already ended.
"We will resume tomorrow."
James couldn't get out of there quickly enough. He fled before anyone could dare approach, despite some's best efforts. The only one who was successful was Alex.
"James!"
Alex caught his elbow and James jerked away from his touch as if burnt. Alex was wide-eyed like he'd been slapped.
The words rushed out. "I want to be alone right now."
Alex flinched but quickly attempted a small smile. "Okay," he said, softly. "That makes sense."
James didn't have the emotional energy to feel bad and the idea of attempting to explain to Alex that it wasn't personal— to try and translate what was raging in James' heart— bodied him with nausea.
He needed fresh air, even just a small gap in the mortar. He'd take anything.
"But, can I just ask... I didn't see you eat today at either meal..."
James schooled his agitation, looking off to the side to further obscure his face. He was behaving erratically, he was aware of that much. But, the idea of consuming anything bottomed his stomach and tensed his throat like he wanted to retch.
"It's not any of your concern," he got out, toeing backwards.
Space. If not air, he needed space.
"Okay." Alex's tone was a little colder this time.
James left without another word, locking himself in his room.
He paced and fidgeted, his body bristled for a fatal battle that didn't exist. In an impulsive decision, he tried the windows, smashing through the glass with his bloodied fists and wrangling the metal bars and boards, pouring everything into it and shouting in frustration when nothing gave in. Trapped. He was trapped.
He thought about a lion he'd seen once as a child; a powerful beast subjugated into nothing better than a housecat.
At the time he'd wanted to steal it; the idea of setting it free had never crossed his mind.
At least that creature had had the comfort of not understanding what was going to happen to it whilst such knowledge tortured him as a man.
James brushed the glass out of his knuckles when his reflection caught his eye, staring at him and grinning mockingly. It was deriding James for daring to forget his place, insulted that he was stealing what he didn't covet.
It shattered when James tore a chair from the ground and flung it at the mirror but, even if it was broken, it laughed at him still. "Fuck!"
Even if he no longer saw it, it was still there, watching.
Although drunk on exhaustion, he sobered slightly, his heavy breaths harsh in the silence. The room around him was a sharp mess and blood was dripping from his fists and shards were embedded in his feet.
How pathetic.
Gingerly, he sat on his bed, carefully prying the glass from his heels and he calmed as the task grounded him.
If Alex were to see the state of him, he would've become annoying with worry. James wasn't one to be so emotional.
"I don't think this is working," he told Eris.
James wasn't so delusional that the truth was invisible to him; he had been on a dangerous decline for many weeks now and it wasn't getting any better.
Perhaps Eris believed he could manage but he was scared of falling further.
Somewhere, unsure how far down, was a point beyond resurface. That end terrified him.
That night, James was incapable of sleep, unlike the blessings of fitful nightmares. In the dark, shapes and shadows watched him and James couldn't shake the neck-prickling anxiety.
How could it dare be so different to the night before? In bed with Alex, James had shortly died, encased in a peaceful nothing. Such a feeling, where he ceased to be, he missed it. Alex. Alex gave him that— something so precious.
The morning was suddenly there, a jarring jolt of a bell pouncing on him. It seemed far too soon but the night had also felt like an eternity.
He wasn't ready but he was better. It would be another day of being dissected by animals.
Maybe he should kill them all.
Returning to the senate, James had become used to the attention. Although it was of the same severity, the stares aired past where they'd used to rub. It wasn't quite as skinning.
King William made sure to target Fabian's character and motives this time. The seed of Fabian's actions had already been accepted and chewed by the senators, now King William would prove his crimes were deliberate.
"I call upon Lady Milda Wade."
The first of the widows James had caught was led to the floor, her shoulders drawn up and her nails chewed short. Her steps stuttered when James lifted his arm to scratch his face, wary of him.
Her testimony was nervous and wobbly. "My late husband had committed a grave crime and King Fabian told me that no one would have to know... he just needed me to do one thing— financially support the candidates of his choosing."
The chair considered this. "How did King Fabian learn about these crimes?"
"I don't know." She bit her lip. "No one knew, it would've been impossible, except..."
"Except?"
"Except, he did confess this to a priest."
One of the committee members frowned. "Such confessions are confidential under the eyes of the Gods."
Hushed murmurs trickled through the chamber and even James' interest was mildly piqued.
"I'm aware, sir. Sorry. What I said was useless. Pay it no mind."
Some of the committee whispered amongst themselves but the chair pushed through. "And why decide to testify now?"
Her eyes darted James' way and he pressed her down with his gaze. She promptly looked away and scratched at her arm. "With his death... it was time to make amends," she mumbled. "It was the right thing to do."
The candidates listed had gone on to campaign not only for the purge of red-eyed people but remained significant obstacles in civil servants' attempts to honour the trade with the Esparians.
As Harrison listed each damning action, the Senate became stiller and quieter.
By the time the second widow had echoed much of the claims of the first, it was no longer acceptable to consider Fabian's actions accidental.
The most significant testimony, however, came from Duke Straton.
Duke Straton was one of the highest-ranked men in the country and, unlike Duke Chamberlain, had no ties or loyalty to King William.
His participation was significant enough on its own; his admissions, on the other hand, were utterly damning.
"As the Senate may know, my son, Llwyd, was a close associate of King Fabian's from childhood up until his disappearance.
Not just friends, King Fabian saw the benefit of Llwyd as a potential heir to the Straton duchy— this is what my father, and predecessor, planned for.
Their friendship had been calculated for mutual benefit; this much I will admit to the Senate. "
James was pulled into this particular recount where the others had bored him.
The duke's hair was a strikingly pale blonde, paler than skin, so much like Riley's and so much like the memories James had of Llwyd.
He wondered; would Llwyd care about his cousin's death?
He hadn't cared enough to send a message, somehow, to the grieving Riley, just to tell him he was alive, and put his poor heart at rest. He hadn't trusted Riley enough to do that.
James was dragged out of his musings by a stretch of unusual silence. The duke had stopped talking, his head hung. Then, he straightened it.
"I faked my son's death. Llwyd is alive."
James' eyebrows shot up. The commotion began to boil.
"King Fabian had got Llwyd swept up in his plans to provoke the Esperians to invade," the duke barrelled on, firmly, speaking over the rising jeers.
"King Fabian had told him everything. He wanted to expand this country but knew the Senate would never permit him.
He was asking Llwyd to use the duchy's resources and men to prepare— asking him to relocate our men up to the northern border.
This once-beneficial friendship became a burden and escalated faster than we could manage.
It was too dangerous. So, I faked his death and I don't regret it. "
"Duke Straton, you're claiming you lied about such a serious matter to authorities. Think carefully before you answer; you're fully admitting to this?"
"Yes, I am, chair."
The outrage grew louder and the chair slammed his fist against the counter, demanding order and silence. The reaction was hardly unjustified or shocking.
Looking up at the stands, James sought Alex's reaction. Except, he wasn't where he sat yesterday. James' heart spiked. He tumbled into a panic.
"This inquest is not about the fact I lied, this is about King Fabian! The Senate must do something before it's too late!"
Where was he? Did he leave? Was he hurt by what James had done yesterday? Had he fled him? Was James that unbearable?
"Quiet in the Senate!"
James went very still, his thoughts feverish and gaze scanning. He caught Alex's face, finally, and the tension breathed out of him. Alex was still here.
Their eyes met and Alex frowned at the sight of him.
"My family knows better than anyone what that bastard is planning and I've been too much of a coward to admit it until now."
Why was Alex frowning?
It took some time to calm the chamber. Outrage, astonishment, stunned silence, it secreted from the crowd and jumbled and swelled into something affronting. James' head throbbed, their noises clawing.
Rather than them, James only cared about what Alex was thinking.
He felt unconfident. Although he'd taken great care in slowly winding back his lure, tangling Alex up in it, James had toyed with him too much at the beginning. Alex still didn't like him enough— leaving was still a possibility.
Even if he held Alex physically, taking the man with him to Arkingham and owning him as a king. It wasn't about just the body, James needed everything.
As the conclusions and closing statements were coming to a close, it blurred past James, his concentration on the thing he wanted.
"As for the last statement, I would like to welcome His Royal Highness, Prince Julian, for anything he may have to say."
James snapped out of his daze and stood, floating to the centre of the chamber and planting himself to the ground. Hundreds of eyes reached for him like still, boding blades, raised in threat. It was silent.
What did he have to say? None of the men beyond his face felt real, as if they were carved dolls filling up the seats.
A closing statement. His final say. After this inquest, James would never be able to go back. The world would know his existence. Could James possibly attempt to sum up his entire life in a few short sentences before he finally let it go?
They were all waiting but he had no idea what he was going to say. In this moment, did he speak as James or did he speak as Prince Julian? Really, did James have anything to say at this point? Was he one to go out with a last word, or did he fizzle out quietly? He didn't know.
Would Prince Julian have anything to say either? He hardly knew the man, he'd been dead for fifteen years. That person was still a child.
Then, who did he speak as?
With no idea of who supplied the words, he opened his mouth.
"This kingdom is an awful place... Don't let it be worse."
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Sorry it's been over a week since the last update, I was on holiday ^ ^ Also, I did make a small animatic thing that I think I linked at the top (idk how it works) because I can't forget Riley so easily. The song is Ma Cherie by Malice Mizer