The mood in the tent slowly changed. As those not of the Flatlands got used to the eccentric behaviours of Lord Clover and Sandra, allowing themselves to be swept away in the joyful mood. Although they weren't as expressive as the twins, they did allow themselves to act in ways that would have usually brought shame upon them. Only the Flatlands Lords didn't bat an eye, dancing and acting with the same freedom that Clover twins held themselves with, knowing that an insult to them would be an insult to how their Lord lived his life.
"Tristan." Edmund said with a small smirk, "Do you wanna join them?" Tristan shook his head and leaned back, getting himself comfortable.
"Be my guest if you wish to go up. Don't hold back because of me." Tristan chuckled, "And don't worry, I won't tell your mother or father." Edmund smiled and nodded. Getting up, he walked around, getting himself in the mood, before a hand shot and grabbed him, pulling him into a mass of people dancing. With a smile, he took a sip as Annabell landed on his shoulder.
"You should join them, Tristan. It looks fun." Pushing her beak away, he shook his head.
"It's not my sort of thing." With a satisfied smile, he saw at the entrance someone he knew and stood up, waving towards them. Cillian looked around the tent and caught Tristan. With a smile, he walked forward and turned to the woman by his side. The woman looked exactly like Cillian, with a black right eye and blue left, her hair the same mix of gold and brown that looked like someone trying to impersonate a Cosmaton.
"Tristan. This is my eldest sister, Elsa. Elsa, this is our cousin, Tristan." Like a perfect princess, Elsa held her hand out towards Tristan and chuckled. Not wishing to embarrass her, he grabbed it and touched his lips on the back before offering the place near him, knowing Lord Clover wouldn't care that someone took his spot. "Did you come alone?" Cillian asked, looking around.
"No, Edmund is somewhere in that cluster." Tristan watched and saw Edmund happily laughing as he twirled a woman double his age around, "I thought he was a shy person, but it seems he is only like that in the Palace." Cillian looked at Tristan before laughing.
"He may live in the palace, Tristan, but he is from the Flatlands and has been to many feasts held by its lords. The Clover twins' personality has seeped deep into the partying culture, to the point where how it previously was is a distant memory." Tristan nodded, realising it made sense. His only reference for the place had been lord Wells, and it was obvious he was still a conservative compared to the rest of the new generation.
Tristan watched as Elsa looked at the dance floor with slight longing, her legs bouncing restlessly as she sighed. "Cousin." Calling out to her, he smiled, "If you wish to join them, you can. No one in this tent will judge you." Elsa smiled and shook her head.
"I can't. No one here may judge me, but they will talk, and those outside will do it for them. I can't embarrass father."
"Father won't care, Elsa; he dotes on you and Ellie." Elsa rolled her eyes.
"That's why I don't want to be an embarrassment to him." Tristan frowned and reached into his pocket, pulling out a gold coin. Handing it to Annabell, the bird took it in its mouth, "Go buy a mask."
"Cousin, there is no need." Elsa quickly said, trying to refuse, only getting a soft smile in return as Annabell flew off holding the gold coin.
"It's fine. I'm not using my money anyway."
"But..."
"Elsa, just say thank you." Cillian said with a kind tone and turned to Tristan, mouthing 'thank you.' Elsa groaned but thanked him and waited. A minute later, Annabell returned carrying a small silver mask with flowers attached to the side. Dropping it in Tristan's hand, Annabell flew up.
"I'm going into the crowd, it looks fun." Annabell didn't wait and flew headfirst into the cluster of dancers, finding Edmund and sitting atop his head, causing a few ladies to approach him to ask about the bird. Smiling Tristan handed the mask to Elsa.
"You have no excuses now." Elsa frowned, trying to suppress her joy and nodded with a reluctant smile, putting it on and getting up, joining in. Although it was obvious with basic knowledge of the royal family who she was, without seeing her face, no one dared to voice it, knowing that on the slim chance they were wrong, they would make an enemy of Brandon.
"How are you enjoying the tournament?" Cillian asked, watching as his sister slowly got more comfortable and let herself get swept away in the music, being taken by Sandra, who led her around.
"It's okay." Tristan leaned forward, "Did your father tell you what happened?" Cillian's gaze hardened.
"About what you saw with Lady Blackwell. Yeah." Cillian took a deep breath, "I think you were right about the inbreeding thing being the wrong line of thought." Tristan looked to Cillian.
"You think they are preserving their power?"
"What your dove said got me thinking. They broke a taboo. The woman is a corpse." His voice was low, nearly drowned out by the music and laughter, "I had thought maybe it was a safety precaution at first. A way to avoid assassination or the like, but your bird said something else that got me thinking. Is the princess ready?"
"So?" Tristan raised an eyebrow, wondering where Cillian was going with it, knowing he was someone much more knowledgeable about the Blackwells.
"Before our founder, they were the Blood Kings of Bridegway." Tristan's eyes widened, releasing the meaning that was clearly before them, "They never stepped back, thankful for being spared, they changed strategy. The fact that they call their heir princess is proof enough. After all, they don't call them that in public."
Tristan's eye widened, having missed such an obvious detail. "Even with that, what about Lady Bridegway being a corpse?" Cillian frowned and shrugged.
"All I can do is guess, but maybe it's like I said before, as a safety precaution, although I doubt it. That is a dangerous strategy if caught by the clergy." Tristan nodded in agreement, "So I changed my thinking, and though in terms of how you proposed the inbreeding hypothetical. What if that is still Lady Blackwell?"
Tristan grabbed his chin and looked to the ground, the music and laughter of the feast becoming background noise. "No, Annabell said it didn't have a soul. Maybe the body is Lady Blackwell's, but whoever is moving it isn't. The Lady is dead."
"And a dead Lady has come to a tournament. She ate food, spoke, and smiled. Everything about her felt real, other than her unnaturally pale skin." Cillian took a deep breath, "What we know of Lady Blackwell is that she would be forty-one if alive. That early for a Great lord to die is strange, and who we saw doesn't look that old, in fact, if I were to say, she looks to have just reached her thirties."
"So what, she died at thirty." Tristan nodded towards the Clover towns, "They look your age, Cillian, and they are in their thirties."
"It's different. The Clovers only begin to look aged once they hit their sixties. That is an established fact we have known for generations. That isn't the same for the Blackwells. Sure, there are rumours about them being bloodsuckers and whatnot, but they never had a history of being eternally youthful. It was similar to our family, they age just better than normal people."
Tristan didn't counter trusting Cillian's knowledge, "So what do you think. Surely you have a theory."
Cillian smiled along with a soft chuckle, "Before father told me, I had many theories about the worst-case scenario, but with this, I am sure. Blackwells always married early after the Red Rebellion, as soon as they entered adulthood; one recorded case when their Lord was only twelve."
Tristan frowned, hearing that. Being married as soon as they came of age wasn't strange, but it was if it was consistent for generations. Even though Elias, Mabel, and Cillian were of age, their fathers were still trying to decide whom they should marry. The Blackwells, especially considering the anomalies, were acting in a way that seemed they were rushed for time.
"The marriage when the boy was twelve." Tristan couldn't help but frown. "How old was he when he died?"
"Twenty-eight." Tristan's frown grew deeper. "His son married as soon as he came of age." The two stared at one another, coming to the same conclusion, but Tristan said nothing, waiting for Cillian to finish his theory. "Anyway, with everything I knew, Lady Blackwell was the final bit of information. Inbreeding causes numerous problems, the main problems being sterility, dim minds, illness and weakness, which result in early death."
With a deep breath, he chuckled at himself bitterly, "I tried to think of a way to make it make sense, and now, based on what your bird saw and my own knowledge, I think I have soemthing to explain it." Taking a deep breath, Cillai looked around to make sure no one was listening before leaning closer to Tristan and whispering.
"What if they can transfer the blood magic in their bodies, and circumnavigate the inbreeding problems? How they do it, I can't be sure, but the natural decay of power via marriage outside the family could be avoided. Blood Magic makes it possible, and the Magi would be willing to assist in this operation. Not out of loyalty but because it allows them to pursue knowledge they wouldn't get otherwise."
"And Lady Blackwell herself. Your theory?" Tristan asked, pointing at the one part that CIllian avoided.
"All Blackwells rush marriage, to the point where it seems their waiting until they come of age is a formality to appease the Church of the creator more than anything. Why?" Cillain smiled and nodded, seeing Tristan catch on, "They all die early, like children of incest. They bypass everything other issue of such an action, bar early deaths. I assume, based on what I know about inbreeding, that the blood being injected into them messes around with what makes a person a person and starts a countdown until it destroys the body from within. Different Blackwells can last different amounts of time."
"And Lady Blackwell..." Tristan asked again.
"Is the veil they have used to hide this plot. Reanimating their dead family heads to buy time until the next is grown, using arcane and blood magic to create a lifelike puppet, they have hidden in plain sight. After all, who could ever assume the dead walk and talk? But what they didn't account for," CIllian turned to look at Annabell who sat atop lord Clover's head, "Is that soemthing exists that disallows falsehood to exist before it."