The dawn after the Festival of Masks broke over Fenwood like a silent promise—birds sang in the trees, and the scent of dew‐softened earth filled the air. Yet for Roland Farter, sleep had been scant. His mind replayed the previous night's events: the masked assassin's flight, the chase through Evershade's lantern-lit alleys, and the final unmasking at the aqueduct. Now, in broad daylight, the full implications of catching a would-be regicide weighed heavily upon him.
Roland rose from his cot in the scout barracks, pulling on his leather tunic and bracers. He paused, running a hand over the Aegis of the Hidden rune shard still warm from last night's council. That talisman—Master Kandros's gift—had guided him through shadows, but it could not mask the consequences of his actions. He knew the assassin's confession would ripple through noble circles, sowing distrust in the very heart of Ardenia's elite.
He stepped outside to find Talia already sharpening her crossbow bolts by the training yard's fountain. The water sparkled in the morning sun.
"Talia," Roland called. "What's the word?"
She looked up, eyes bright. "Lord Harren arrived at dawn. He demanded answers—and a public audience. He claims the assassin's orders implicated one of his own retainers."
Roland frowned. "Harren? He's pulled a scapegoat move—and this will fan noble tensions. We need clarity before accusations spread."
Talia nodded. "He's calling a hearing in the Great Hall by midday. Sir Alaric asked me to fetch you." She checked her quiver. "Ready?"
Roland exhaled. "Always."
---
Preparing the Evidence
In the strategy chamber, Sir Alaric stood over a wooden table strewn with last night's confiscated items: the assassin's raven mask, a blood‐etched dagger, and a sheaf of notes in cipher. Roland joined him and Talia, greeting Lira and Master Cedric.
Alaric's voice was measured. "We must present irrefutable proof before the assembled council. Roland, gather the statements—Talia has the confession, Lira the witness testimony."
Roland nodded and strode to the scroll rack. He unfurled Talia's report:
> "I, Talia Stormarrow, of Fenwood's Seventh Scout Company, do hereby swear that on the eve of the Festival of Masks, at the Evershade aqueduct, I witnessed the apprehension of one Galin the Black, assassin in the service of the Dark Lord. His orders were to assassinate Princess Althea, as evidenced by this raven‐wax‐sealed note bearing the Dark Lord's cipher."
Roland placed the note on the table. He then retrieved Lira's taped testimony from the masked Brotherhood informants:
> "We observed Galin meeting a cloaked figure in the western canals. He received this dagger—engraved with runes of silence—and a pouch of powders. The cloth‐wrapped bundle contained Althea's heraldic symbol. His intent was clear."
Citizens and low‐ranking soldiers were already gathering in the Great Hall as Roland, Talia, and Lira donned ceremonial tabards marking them as official witnesses. Their threads of green and silver mirrored Ardenia's crest—unity among diversity.
---
The Great Hall Hearing
The Great Hall's high ceiling arched overhead, sunlight streaming through stained‐glass windows depicting Ardenia's past victories. Long oak benches filled with noble families, guildmasters, and city officials. At the dais, Sir Alaric and Princess Althea presided, flanked by the Allied Council's banners.
Roland, Talia, and Lira took positions at the front. Lord Harren of Blackwood rose, his dark cloak sweeping the floor. "My lords and ladies," he began, voice carrying across marble columns, "I stand accused by mere scouts and whisperers. I demand to know why my retainer—Ser Emil of Highridge—was implicated."
A murmur rippled through the hall. Harren swept his hand to the dais. "Show me the proof!"
Sir Alaric dipped his head. "Proceed."
Talia stepped forward, her crossbow bolt in hand. "Emil's confession was recorded last night. He confessed to meeting Galin at the aqueduct and assisting in planning the assassination." She rolled out a parchment bearing Emil's signature—his hand shakier than expected, but unmistakably his.
Emil, a tall man with silver hair, stood in the crowd, eyes wide. Roland saw him slump, guilt etched on his face.
Lira added, "We recovered Emil's torn cloak under the bridge—its lining matching the embroidery on Galin's mask." She held up a thread, the hall's gasps echoing.
Roland then unfurled Master Cedric's decoded cipher:
> "From the Dark Lord: 'The princess's life ends at midnight. No mercy. The final seal is the raven's flight.' –Encrypted by Servant 47."
He pointed to Emil. "Your retainer carried these messages. He is complicit."
Emil's voice cracked as he was brought forward. "I… I was blackmailed. My family—held hostage in the North. I had no choice." He bowed his head, tears visible behind his gray brows.
Sir Alaric's gaze softened. "Blackmailed or not, betrayal of the crown's blood is high treason." He turned to Althea.
Princess Althea stood, mask removed, revealing eyes brimming with sorrow. "Ser Emil… you aided a murderer. Yet you spoke truth today. I grant you a chance for redemption: serve in Ardenia's defense under my banner, not under fear." She fixed him with a steady gaze.
Emil's shoulders faltered. "I live to serve, Your Highness."
From the benches, Lady Aurelia of Stonebridge whispered to her neighbor, "Mercy in justice—an example for all." The Great Hall's atmosphere shifted from anger to solemn respect.
---
Grudging Admiration
After the hearing, Roland found Sir Alaric in the palace courtyard. The hero's gaze was distant, but as Roland approached, Alaric wheeled.
"You unmasked a deep conspiracy, Roland. Your quick thinking saved the princess and revealed traitors." He paused. "You have earned my grudging admiration."
Roland bowed. "Thank you, sir."
Alaric held out a gauntleted hand. Roland took it, surprised by the hero's warmth. "Stand by me, Roland. More challenges come."
Roland nodded, heart pounding. Grudging admiration—from Sir Alaric himself. It was more precious than any medal.
---
Informing the Allied Council
Word of the hearing's outcome spread quickly. Summoned back to the council chamber, Roland and his fellow scouts presented the Allied Council with the full evidence: ransoms paid by the Dark Lord, maps of assassination attempts, and a pledge from Emil to renew his oath.
The council deliberated late into the night. Merchant Guildmaster Ceres placed heavy scrollcases on the table. "We will supply funds for additional guards and munitions."
Farmer's Delegate Bram pounded his fist. "And I will rally every able‐bodied man and woman at dawn!"
Nobles who had grumbled in Fenwood found their resolve steeled when they saw Roland's evidence. The alliances deepened—no longer mere convenience, but forged in shared danger and the truth laid bare.
---
A Moment of Respite
Exhausted, Roland stepped onto the balcony overlooking the keep's gardens. Lanterns glowed amid autumn leaves, and the distant hum of the city lulled him. Talia appeared at his side, offering a flask of spiced cider.
"To justice," she toasted softly.
Roland accepted a sip. "And to unity."
They stood in companionable silence, two guardians in an uncertain world. Roland felt the weight of the past week's battles, trials, and covert alliances. Yet even amid turmoil, he found purpose—and recognition—from those he respected.
Lira joined them, staff slung at her back. "The Council awaits your final strategy briefing at dawn."
Roland straightened. "Then we rest now. Tomorrow, we face the Dark Lord's army."
Under the moon's waning glow, Roland Farter—once a nameless mob—allowed himself a quiet moment of pride. He had unmasked traitors, steered Fenwood's unity, and earned the hero's respect. His story had become entwined with Ardenia's fate—and he was ready for whatever trials lay ahead.