## CHAPTER 24 – THE HALL OF NOBLES
-Year 7335, Decatry Island – Decatry Castle, Great Council Hall-
The hall is enormous. Torches on the black stone walls cast dancing shadows across the vaulted ceilings. Crystal chandeliers float above the long oak table — magic light, I assume — and their pale flames reflect off the armour of the guards posted by the columns. The banners of the houses hang from the walls: the golden lion of Remadís, the white moon of Lunos, the black octopus of Graylor, the cat and vines of Eladir, the scythe and rabbit of Derylini, the hammer and anvil of Mercius. And in the centre, above the duke's seat, the white tiger with blue stripes of House Decatry.
I stand by the wall, behind the seat of Baron Ander Féris. I wear simple squire's clothes — dark tunic, leather trousers, boots. The sword they gave me is nothing special. It doesn't matter. My weapon now is my eyes and ears.
Baron Ander sits at the table, a few places from the king. He is a man of forty, dark hair, tired eyes. Since Lysara's death, he has been quieter. Drinks more. But he trusts me. That is what matters.
The hall is full.
I recognise some faces from portraits and from conversations over the days. Others are new. I store every detail.
---
Andy Van Decatry stands at the head of the table. His silver-blue hair is combed back, his short beard neatly trimmed. He wears a black tunic with his family's crest on his chest — the white tiger. His grey eyes sweep the assembly with a mixture of weariness and authority. He is the host. And, after the death of his father Agrís (ill, absent, perhaps soon dead), he is also the most powerful voice in this room.
"Welcome to Decatry," he says, his voice calm but firm. "I thank you for your presence, especially our guests from Aryster and Ban. I know the journey was long for some. And dangerous."
He looks to the side. King Dizius Remadís sits at his right. Old, white hair, small dark eyes. He never smiles. His children, Lirius and Elisa, sit beside him. Lirius has a smile I don't like. Elisa has a gaze that weighs every person in the room.
King Arésyu of Aryster sits at Andy's left. Black hair, silver crown, dark cloak. Beside him, Princess Livia — pale, beautiful, her black eyes fixed on emptiness. Behind them, Lindériu Derassi, the Holy warrior. Coppery blonde hair, green eyes, blue and gold armour. He looks young — they say he is sixteen — but his eyes are old.
King Zayan of Ban sits further down the table. Bronzed skin, affable smile. Beside him, his son Youssef — twenty years old, serious face, learning the arts of war.
Further down, the others.
Morgana Graylor — dark blue hair, beautiful but bitter. Andy left her. She looks at him from time to time with an expression I can't decipher. Beside her, Kamia — the older sister, married to Lirius Remadís. Also beautiful, but more calculating.
Marchioness Linda Lunos — silver-white hair, clear eyes, kind but tired face. Her husband, Merius Derylini, sits beside her. He is a large man, brutish, a man of few words. Their daughter, Luna, sits beside her mother. White hair, eyes that seem to see no evil in anyone. Beautiful. Innocent.
Nuno Eladir, the young count — twenty-something, maybe, but a serious face. His wife Joanne Lunos sits beside him. Their children — the twins Eliana and Sofia, and the boy Daniel — stand behind them. The girls are beautiful. The boy seems magnanimous, as they say.
Deur Derylini, the marquis — a man of forty, short greying hair, icy blue eyes. He was the one who killed Arthur Erréndias in a duel, fifteen years ago. He doesn't seem remorseful. His wife, Asa Truid (from the Ban Islands), sits beside him. Their children: Decur (married to Márcia Mercius), Néris (sixteen, light hair, soft eyes), and Merius (the bastard, who sits beside Linda Lunos as her husband — ah, the same Merius. Right).
Mercudoth Mercius — fat, pot-bellied, fingers covered in rings. His wife, Melinda Troydís (daughter of Duke Magnus Troydís of Ban), sits beside him. Their children: Marco (malicious), Mário (aggressive), and Márcia (sweet, married to Decur Derylini).
And Duke Magnus Troydís sits further down, with his own attendants. An astute man, fingers covered in rings, eyes that weigh every word before it is spoken.
The others — Valerius Sarana (duke of Aryster, rigid posture), Aldric Derassi (marquis of Aryster, calm, diplomatic), Count Darius Darai (silent, hands clasped) — are seated according to their importance.
I hold every face. Every insignia. Every weakness.
---
Andy raps his knuckles on the table. The sound echoes.
"As you know, Dennis Decatry Port was attacked today. A monster. Krakeriar."
A pause. He lets the words settle.
A captain in blue armour rises from one of the side benches. Tall, square jaw, scar on his cheek. He bows to the duke and then to the king.
"The monster destroyed twelve ships," he reports, his voice monotone. "It killed thirty-seven soldiers and forty-two civilians. Wounded: over a hundred."
Silence.
King Dizius leans forward. His small dark eyes gleam.
"Who killed the creature?"
Andy looks at the table. His expression doesn't change, but there is something in his eyes — weariness, pride, perhaps both.
"My daughter Ana. Chosen of Anorys."
Murmurs.
Sideways glances. Someone behind me whispers: "Anorys? God of destruction?" Another replies: "Silence. That is not spoken of."
Morgana Graylor pales. Her hands, resting on the table, tremble slightly.
King Arésyu keeps his face impassive, but Princess Livia looks away. Lindériu Derassi, behind her, keeps his face neutral — but his eyes gleam with a recognition I can't interpret.
I store the information.
*Ana. Chosen of Anorys. The golden-haired girl I saw step off the boat. She is more dangerous than she seemed.*
---
The meeting continues.
King Dizius demands to know if the monster was alone. A thin, grey-bearded advisor — perhaps a court sage — stands and speaks:
"It was a juvenile, Your Majesty. Much weaker than normal. A curse, apparently, placed by a witch. There are three others."
"Where?" Andy asks, his voice dry.
"One in the Graylor Islands" — the advisor looks at Morgana. She doesn't react. "The other two on a deserted ice island northeast of here."
King Dizius slams his palm on the table.
"They must be killed. All of them. Before they awaken."
Andy nods.
"I offer my knights. And my ships."
Lindériu stands.
"I will help," he says, his voice calm. "I know the region of the ice islands. I have hunted similar monsters in northern Aryster."
King Dizius looks at him with suspicion.
"Foreigners hunting in the domains of Endomyar?"
Zayan Ban intervenes. His voice is affable but firm.
"The enemy is common, Dizius. Let us not forget Trussum. The monsters in the port are a portent. If we do not act together, we will die separately."
Dizius does not reply. He merely nods once, reluctantly.
---
Princess Livia rises.
Silence falls over the hall.
She is younger than I expected — perhaps sixteen, perhaps less. Black hair, pale skin, dark eyes that seem to reflect no light. Beautiful, but with a cold beauty. She is not a chosen one — I have heard that Aryster has only two chosen ones: Lindériu and the holy woman. So she is human. Vulnerable.
"I will go with Lindériu," she says, her voice low but firm. "I want to learn. I want to help."
King Arésyu looks at her. There is something in his eyes — pride? concern?
"Very well."
She sits. Her black eyes fix on the table. She looks at no one else.
I feel the familiar desire. I clench my fists behind my back.
*No. Not yet. Here, you must be useful first. Afterwards... pleasure comes later.*
Baron Ander Féris leans back slightly, without turning his head, and murmurs:
"What do you think of this, Zirinos?"
His voice is low, only for my ears. I reply in the same tone:
"I think nobles talk too much and act too little."
He almost smiles.
"Wisdom of a slave?"
"Wisdom of a survivor."
He does not answer. He only straightens in his chair and looks back at the table.
---
Marchioness Linda Lunos stands.
Her silver-white hair gleams in the torchlight. She is beautiful, despite her tired eyes. Her voice is calm.
"I know the northern waters. My fleet is ready. I will take the hunters."
Andy agrees.
"Thank you, Linda."
Merius Derylini, her husband, looks at her with disdain — but he does not contradict her. Derylini's bastard has his father's eyes: icy, calculating.
Morgana Graylor stands. Her face is pale, but her voice is firm.
"The Graylors solve their own problems. We do not need help on our islands."
Andy looks at her. Grey eyes meet blue eyes. There was something between them, in the past — I've heard the rumours. The forced marriage. The daughters. The separation.
"This is not one house's problem, Morgana," he says, his voice neutral. "It is everyone's."
She bites her lip. Her hands tremble. She sits without saying another word.
Kamia, the older sister, touches her shoulder. Morgana pushes her hand away.
Lirius Remadís watches the exchange with a small smile. He seems amused.
*Poison*, I think. *That man is poison.*
---
The meeting drags on for another hour.
They talk of numbers. Soldiers. Ships. Supplies. King Dizius wants to know how many men each house can provide. Andy answers: three thousand. Linda Lunos: two thousand. Nuno Eladir: fifteen hundred. Morgana Graylor, reluctantly: eight hundred. Mercudoth Mercius: one thousand. Deur Derylini: two thousand.
The kings of Aryster and Ban offer help. Magnus Troydís offers ships. Valerius Sarana offers soldiers.
King Dizius answers each with a dry nod. He does not thank. He merely records.
At the end, he slams his hand on the table.
"You leave at dawn. Take soldiers. Take mages. I do not want another port destroyed."
No one disagrees.
---
The nobles rise. They talk in small groups. They retire to their chambers.
Baron Ander Féris bids me farewell with a nod.
"Come. We need rest. Tomorrow will be long."
"Yes, my lord."
He leaves. I stay.
The hall is empty. Only the guards by the doors, the banners swaying in the wind that slips through the cracks, the chandeliers floating like clouds of light.
I walk to the table. I run my fingers over the black polished wood.
*War. Monsters. Politics.*
*Noise.*
The girls are the prize.
Livia — the pale princess, vulnerable, human. Néris — Desty's chosen, gentle, with eyes that blush when they see me. Luna — the innocent of Lunos, white hair, eyes that have never seen evil. The Eladir twins — Eliana the clever, Sofia the impulsive. Even Princess Elisa Remadís — cold, calculating, but beautiful.
I don't have to choose them all. Just one. One who will give me power. One who will give me access.
'And then... then I destroy Endomyar.'
I look at my reflection in a silver jug placed on a sideboard. My hair gleams — gold and red. My face is beautiful. Women look. Some blush. Others look away, but not from revulsion. From shyness.
'The masked man sent me to destroy. But no one said how.'
I leave the hall. The corridor is dark. My footsteps echo on the stone.
'There is more than one way to kill a kingdom.'