Chapitre 35: Civil Unrest
As Tyria made her way back to the keep, she couldn't help but wonder why Goleil's command had had such a profound effect on her.
The man wasn't supposed to have mana, his battle at Gruumsh's Gate had thoroughly destroyed his circuits, and his core hadn't been large enough to project mana in the first place, especially now that it was empty.
Her brows furrowed. Then that dark red energy, that energy that smelled of blood and evil that sent shivers down her spine, it wasn't mana. She'd seen strange things, magic she didn't understand of colors foreign to her. Blue was not the only color mana could take; it depended on the person.
She had seen a brilliant sky blue from a sage deep within the Krodian Empire, purple from an Adalian shaman, and even black from Mage Murdoc himself.
It wasn't so large a leap for others to think that perhaps red mana was a Vrean special; after all, they were quite war-like.
But Lady Colm knew in her heart it wasn't mana. It couldn't be!
As she was lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice the unrest in the streets, but Gwen did.
Men and women dressed in silks and linens rushed from door to door, warning of a man who could force them to their knees with his mere voice.
Rumors grew before their eyes, and soon he could control their minds with but a thought. He could kill with his voice and could enslave people with a glance.
Soon, two Praetorian Guard joined the pair and escorted them towards the keep. Nobles contacted their house guards and put them on patrol. The City Guard was on high alert after Murdoc had felt massive mana fluctuations all across the inner city.
They were all looking for one man, a golden-clad Guardsman.
Of course, Goleil couldn't have known this.
When he eventually left the Colosseo with Mord after making sure Erikson would be alright, the nobles knew immediately.
...
[Lord Aldritch Colm's office]
"Lord Colm, this man is too dangerous to remain in this city! We demand he be banished!"
Aldritch Colm was slumped at his desk, rubbing the dark circles under his eyes. He kept glancing at the window of his office and to the city floor below.
He sighed as he shook off his fantasies.
The four nobles in front of him were the heads of the four most prominent families in Redvale.
The one who had just spoken was Lorcan Brentwood, a fit man in his mid-fifties. He was shorter than the average man, but he made up for it in his wardrobe. His robes were far more embellished than Lord Colm's. The red silk fabric of his billowing clothing was embroidered in gold and silver wire. Countless rings adorned his finger, one of which seemed to glow with a strange blue light.
The mere sight of the ring made Lord Colm nauseous, as he had just heard the news. Tyria had promised Goleil the Pereniall Band.
He became pale in the face as he swallowed his rising bile.
Aldritch Colm took several deep breaths to calm his nerves. His son William had been right; Goleil was needed. However, this had been unexpected, and William was still on his way back from the Traveller's Inn, investigating rumors on the Mountain Tribes.
"My Lord, we beg of you. This man is evil! He seeks to destroy us, not aid us! If we are to have any hope of defeating the incoming threat, we must rid ourselves of his evil presence!" Brentwood pleaded.
Two others nodded in affirmation, Jonah de Clare and Ocargon Rowe. Both men were of larger stature, though the de Clare's had always been on the thinner side. They had a similar style to Brentwood; however, Ocargon's sense of style was far more reserved.
Only Minerva Alnwick seemed immune to his words. The most reserved in both personal and family affairs, her discerning gray eyes seemed to absorb the heat in the room.
Lorcan's necklaces and bracelets clinked together as he moved emphatically.
"My Lord! We must remove him if we are to protect the city and its people best! What if he conspires against us with this monster?!"
Lord Colm rose from his chair and stood in front of the window that looked down at the city streets below. His hands were clasped behind his back, his unkempt hair falling in front of his eyes.
"Mr. Brentwood, care to explain to me why it is you think there is an impending danger? I don't recall any such conversation between us."
Lorcan glanced at Jonah de Clare, a movement that Aldritch noticed in the reflective surface of the window.
"My Lord, I feel that how we know matters little, and what matters is that we know and are willing to help Redvale. We live here, after all! Please, Lord Colm. Dispose of this man at once, and the Brentwood's will pledge their house guard to your command!"
"As will the de Clare's," Jonah said, his young voice starkly contrasting with his companion's older, rougher voice.
Ocargon coughed lightly. "My Lord, the Rowe's have always pledged our house guard to your use. What we fear is not an evil man but a powerful one without wisdom." His voice was gravelly, and while the color scheme of his robes was blue, it was as lightly adorned as Minerva's grey robes.
Minerva nodded. "Such a warrior would be dangerous indeed. My family was not present in the Colosseo, but even my highest trained agents were forced to kneel before him. He must lack even the slightest bit of control for such a large mistake."
Lord Colm sighed and flicked his sleeve. "Mr. Brentwood and Mr. de Clare, it seems you are misguided. You are my bannermen. While you are powerful in your own right, it is me you answer to, not the other way around."
Lorcan and Jonah's eyes narrowed. "My Lord-"
"Silence."
The door swung open, and four Praetorian Guard entered with swords drawn. Two approached Brentwood and de Clare each.
"What is the meaning of this, Aldritch?!" Lorcan shouted, hand going for his dagger before he was forced to the ground.
Jonah de Clare was more competent. He immediately surrendered.
"Your house guards are not some pawn you can use to get what you want from me. I have served you well as Lord of Redvale since the day my father died. You grew wealthier, and I acquiesced to your demands far too many times."
Lord Colm turned to face them.
"You may not have as good a view as I do, but I know you can see them. You can see people on the streets starving, begging, stealing, and killing just to survive—our people. You see the snow and sun both, and you feel it."
He leaned down and gently inspected one of the many gold necklaces around Lorcan's neck.
"And yet," he whispered, "You dress like this."
He chuckled as he recalled Lorcan's words but a moment ago.
"Do not speak to me of protecting this city's people; I have spent every gold I can in my attempt to help my people, to the point of having difficulty putting food on the table. My guard patrols the entire city not for your safety but theirs."
Lord Colm could see the fear in the rich man's eyes.
"You disgust me."
He took a step back from the kneeling man and glanced at the Praetorian.
A moment later, Lorcan Brentwood's head was separated from his body.
...
Goleil had trouble falling asleep.
It was the first time he wasn't exhausted from training or unconscious after having his soul almost destroyed by a resurrected pseudo-eldritch being.
His brain kept going over his fights with Sir Se'eray Dagerlund, Sir Khalid bin Walid, and especially his discoveries about eldritch magic.
His eyes narrowed as he remembered Khalid in particular. He had been strong, and Goleil wouldn't have been able to defeat him with only his body.
'I guess I have to thank him for pushing me to my limits. I might not have been able to use this magic without him...'
Goleil blinked, and he was no longer in his bed.
No, he was in a place far more familiar. He was at Gruumsh's Gate, about to be crushed by a Giant's boulder.
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