“How confident are you that this will work?” Sir Kenneth asked Veda as they stood together in the box reserved for representatives of the Empire.

  Nearby, the Castellan de Flèche and his Honor Guard waited as grim sentinels. No one else had been permitted to visit the Towers’ Council. Bereft of his recently acquired knightly companions, Kenneth was left feeling much more vulnerable.

  “I believe our chances to be middling to fair, young Knight,” Veda the Witch Hunter responded. For this occasion they had their hood drawn up. A ceramic mask accompanied it, so that only the soft blue glow of their eyes shined out from beneath the hood. “The Wizards will cut off their foot if they believe it will free them from a trap.”

  Sir Kenneth couldn’t help but notice how the Senior Wizards gathered in the Council kept glancing in his and Veda’s direction. The barely disguised distaste and suspicion in their wizened expressions made him want to shrivel up and hide. Between the many staves, trinkets, and enchanted robes gathered, even someone like the Knight could feel the raw magic in the air.

  “And if they decide that killing us is the best solution to free them from that trap?”

  Veda took a moment longer than Sir Kenneth would have liked to answer. “Then blood will flow through the streets of Osteriath.” It was a cold and unsparing assessment. “After that, the Empire will turn its gaze here. The Towers will fall, one way, or the other.”

  “While it is possible,” Veda concluded as they turned their surprisingly gentle eyes on Sir Kenneth. “It is much more likely they will cut one of their number loose to preserve the whole. They are greedy creatures, worse than dragons.”

  Sir Kenneth didn’t have any time to follow up on that choice of words. All of the Senior Wizards present began to beat their staves on the tiled floor of the Council chamber. It was arranged like a stadium, with separate boxes arranged in rows that separated each Towers’ representatives from the others by low walls.

  Seating in the form of uncomfortable stone benches was available, but most chose to stand. Veda had idly commented that this was to keep meetings from dragging on too long, as Wizards were prone to bickering. Most chose to stand. The clattering of staves bouncing off of the hard tiles slowly sorted itself out into a pounding rhythm. Once everyone was in sync, the pounding stopped and silence fell.

  An incredibly old man with spectacles thicker than a finger’s width stepped from where he’d been waiting by the side of the Chambers lowest level. His tottering feet carried him towards the podium at the center at a painfully slow pace. Sir Kenneth watched incredulously as everyone gathered waited in complete silence.

  When the centenarian finally reached the podium, his shaking hands placed a death grip onto a sturdy rail. Everyone held their breath as they watched him take on the herculean task of rising first one step, then another. It was only when he was safely ensconced within the structure of the podium that a low sigh of relief echoed through the masses congregated in the Chamber.

  Sir Kenneth turned his eyes towards Veda, eyebrows high up his forehead. The elf’s eyes seemed amused behind their mask, but they shook their head and raised one finger to their mask to indicate silence.

  “I-i-is everyone here?” a quavering voice echoed from the podium. No one responded for a long moment. Finally, a harried looking young apprentice in robes that matched the Speaker’s scurried over to the podium and spoke to him in a low voice. “W-w-what? What’s that? Speak up boy, I can’t hear you!”

  The lad gave a sigh. “EVERYONE. IS. HERE. TURN. ON. YOUR. EARRINGS.”

  “There’s no need to shout, young man! I ought to box your ears!” The Speaker grumbled as his gnarled fingers fussed with a pair of enchanted gems hanging from his elongated earlobes. There was a low fizz and pop, after which the Speaker’s voice rang clear and unwavering through the Chamber.

  “Are all gathered for this Hearing of the Council?” The Speaker’s voice echoed, sounding as if he was standing right next to Sir Kenneth and everyone else present. As the Knight squinted down at the Speaker, he became sure that the Wizard’s earrings were changing what he said. The movement of the man’s lips didn’t quite match the authoritative voice which he now projected.

  In order, starting at the box on the top row in front of the Speaker and moving clockwise, each Senior Wizard answered for their Tower. Some boxes were currently empty, while others seemed to hold more than their fair share. There were sixty four available boxes, but only around forty-nine representatives present.

  The Empire’s box technically belonged to someone else, but their sigil had been scrubbed from the box and only faint markings were left behind.

  “Good,” the Speakers voice sounded again once the last Tower had spoken. “Then let’s get straight to the point.” The old man cleared his throat. “Who the bloody hells is responsible for this debacle? Vote by pointing.”

  A forest of staves were directed at the box of the Tower of Baedain. Mortimer the Wizard sat inside of it, alone save for a heavily battered and filthy man crouching beside him.

  “The Council calls on Mortimer the Fifth to account for himself,” the Speaker’s voice boomed.

  Mortimer nonchalantly rose to his feet. He had no staff. Instead, he supported himself with a simple walking cane that looked rather like a shepherd’s crook. He stared out at the Council, unconcerned at the staves pointing in his direction. “Well, I’m here. What do you want?”

  A momentary clamor started as various representatives started shouting angrily at Mortimer. None could be heard above the other. The Speaker gave a deep sigh and clicked his fingers. “Aesmatamaen.”

  Deafening silence slammed down onto the Council Chamber, muting all present for several moments. When he could tell that people had stopped shouting, he clicked his fingers and lifted the spell. Sir Kenneth noted that the man’s eyes were sharp, despite the enormous spectacles balancing precariously on his knobbled nose.

  “We have numerous accounts of you and your new Apprentice being involved in the incident which devastated the city just over a day ago,” The Speaker said firmly. “Explain this, if you can.”

  “Hmm. You mean where I was attacked in broad daylight and the Towers overreacted?" Mortimer responded casually. The Speaker had to preemptively cast his spell of silence again before the entire chamber erupted in anger. It took considerably longer to calm down the second time.

  “May I remind the esteemed Senior Wizards that interruptions are grounds to investigate each responsible Tower for complicity?” The Speaker growled. Many representatives chose to sit down and shut up afterwards, but a few remained stubbornly standing. Those from the Towers of Lahaeb and Saqaei in particular remained on their feet, their representatives barely restraining their anger. “Continue, Mortimer.”

  “While it is true that I was attacked, I accept no blame for the incident,” Mortimer responded more firmly. “I was taking a brisk walk through the city, stretching my legs, when a monster attacked me. I was barely able to escape with my life and my staff was sundered in the process. No thanks to this gaggle of morons firing off spells willy-nilly.”

  The Speaker glanced over at his assistant, who was consulting a strange device that looked like a mechanical book. When the Assistant gave a small shake of his head, the Speaker returned his attention to Mortimer.

  “There are further reports that your familiar was detected wielding energies from the Banned Discipline, which was responsible for triggering the automatic defences imbued into each Tower.” The Speaker’s sharp eyes narrowed at Mortimer as he spoke.

  “Reports, but no actual evidence,” Mortimer retorted. “It wouldn’t be the first time poorly written runes gave a false positive. Wasn’t it just a couple of nights ago, when some backwood hick’s defenses triggered against another bird? I don’t seem to remember a full Council meeting being called for that.”

  Both the Representatives for Lahaeb and Saqaei seethed. The Speaker mumbled an adjustment to their spell and a localized blanket of silence dropped over their boxes.

  “Produce your familiar for inspection, Mortimer,” The Speaker ordered.

  “Apologies, esteemed Speaker, but I cannot,” Mortimer said amiably. “He’s a bird and flies where he wants. I’ll be sure to bring him by if you want to inspect him later.”

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  Once again the Speaker turned to look at their Assistant and his device. Despite the young man’s repeated attempts to check the mechanism, nothing seemed to change. The Speaker seemed greatly annoyed by that and gave a deep grumble.

  During this exchange, Sir Kenneth became increasingly incensed. Why were they moving past each point so quickly? When he looked at Veda, they simply watched the proceedings with a cool gaze. The elf didn’t seem bothered by the charade happening in front of them.

  “The last claim you are called to speak upon,” The Speaker continued. “Is directly from the… ‘honored’ Representatives of the Empire.” Mortimer’s eyes flicked over to the Empire’s box and landed on Sir Kenneth. For the first time, the Wizard showed a change in his calm expression. The Knight felt his skin crawl as Mortimer’s purple eyes narrowed in his direction.

  The Speaker continued. “The claim is thus: The Wizard Mortimer travelled without permission to the Barony of Reimse, damaged the Baron’s realm by unpermitted use of magic, provoked a dragon that was present in the area by attacking it, kidnapped a child, then escaped from the region by use of a Banned implement, with the child and a known criminal in tow.”

  “Is any of that true, Mortimer?” the Speaker finished, with the finality of driving a nail into a coffin. No one dared to interrupt this time.

  Mortimer took a long while to consider his words before answering.

  “First, esteemed Speaker,” the Wizard started. “That is a great deal to package into ‘one’ claim. The ‘honored’ representatives of the Empire should know better than to try and bury one of the Towers in such an avalanche…”

  “...But I shall answer to the best of my ability.” The Wizard leaned on the crook and cleared his throat. “It is true that I travelled to the Barony of Reimse, but it was within the well established ‘agreement’ with our honored Guest… the ‘Witch Hunters’.” Veda didn’t flinch when the ire of the Council temporarily turned their way. “Namely, the agreement that any wild and unrestrained emanations of magic are to be investigated with due haste.”

  Mortimer continued. “While it is true that some damage was caused to the Baron’s demesne; it was well within the bounds of what could be handled by normal compensation. The Tower of Baedain will of course give the Baron Reimse his due for any damage to his property. That being said…”

  “... It would be a trifle in comparison to what the Dragon itself was responsible for. I’m sure that the good knight hiding behind our Guest can confirm that the Black Dragon I encountered was a scourge upon the Realm. It cost me a great deal to defend the Knight’s own life from the beast when it attacked unprovoked. Indeed, it was the good Knight of Reimse himself who bid me to pursue the beast and help bring it down.”

  Mortimer casually stroked his beard, giving a wry smile. “I do wonder how the good Knight came here to lay the accusation at my feet. I had to travel by way of wagon and ferry to reach the Barony…”

  “... Now as for the claim of ‘kidnapping’, the boy’s guardian was mortally wounded during the battle against the Dragon. It proved far too dangerous to overcome at the time. Rather than lose my and my companions’ lives, I chose to retreat. The boy showed a modicum of magical talent, so I briefly took him into custody to determine if his talents were dangerous.”

  “As for the ‘known criminal’,” Mortimer said while glancing down at Howard. The crouching man flinched under his gaze. “I will admit to a small degree of fault for not keeping up with current affairs. I had no knowledge of this man’s true identity when we met. Since I have been brought up to date, I elected to bring him here to hand him over to the proper authorities.”

  Mortimer’s purple eyes locked onto Sir Kenneth, even as he talked towards the Speaker. “Are there any… other questions?”

  Sir Kenneth gripped the hilt of his sword so tightly that it rattled in its sheath. Veda reached up and placed a calming hand on his shoulder before stepping forward. A multitude of eyes locked on the hooded elf as they stood at the front of the Empire’s box.

  “The one speaking before you is known as ‘Veda’, Interrogator of the Qaetil Saehra,” the elf said plainly. Their voice carried across the chamber with no need for magical artifacts. “I will invoke the same Agreement that Mortimer, Senior Wizard of the Tower of Baedain calls upon. This is done upon the grounds the Wizard himself has admitted fault in three of the six points raised by the Order, and evaded one.”

  Mortimer glared at Veda, but kept his silence.

  “The Wizard Mortimer shall give simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers,” Veda said firmly. “First: were you able to identify and contain the uprising of magic detected within the Barony of Reimse?”

  “No,” Mortimer growled. “But my Orb of Detection-”

  “Second, have you made any attempt to contact the Baron of Reimse to inform him of your activities or to offer compensation?”

  “No,” Mortimer hissed again. “It’s been very busy and-”

  “The Council will remind the Wizard Mortimer, that anything but a yes or no answer will be considered evasion,” Veda shot towards the Speaker. Sir Kenneth backed away from Veda as he felt the Speaker’s ire rise, but it was ultimately redirected towards Mortimer.

  “Do what the Hunter says Mortimer, or I’ll be forced to pull your Mistress in for questioning,” the Speaker spat out. A quiet susurrus swept through the representatives that the Speaker did not decide to quash. Mortimer’s knuckles went white on his crook.

  “Third,” Veda proceeded, verbally sharpening their metaphoric axe. “Were you responsible for the death of the Sorcerer known as T’laanga, the caretaker of the child in question?”

  “No!” Mortimer shouted forcefully. At the same moment, a raucous noise came from the device in the Assistant’s hands. It sounded like a multitude of bells being smashed together. All eyes focused on the Assistant as the racket kept up, before the young man was forced to stuff the device into a leather bag to muffle it.

  “That’s uhm… the device seems to be malfunctioning, Speaker,” the Assistant said nervously. “There is a… a great deal of ambiguity interfering with the reading.”

  Veda continued onwards, unwilling to let their momentum falter. “Did you knowingly take the child known as Magnus and manipulate their mind to exploit their sorcerous talent?”

  “NO!” Mortimer screamed.

  The device in the leather bag exploded.

  Pandemonium reigned in the Chamber as wards of protection slammed into place. The Speaker’s podium was encased in a bubble of pure light. Everyone but the unlucky Assistant was shielded from the blast. The man himself was launched from the Speaker’s side and thrown across the Chamber floor to lie in a smoking heap.

  Once the shrapnel had stopped raining down, the shields slowly lowered. Everyone present with a staff had it raised. The Castellan’s Honor Guard had enveloped him in a protective cordon made of their platemail clad bodies. One of them had dragged Sir Kenneth into the huddle. This was fortunate for him, as a deadly shard of metal was embedded in the wood of the box where he’d just been standing. Their box’s wards had malfunctioned.

  The bubble around the Speaker’s podium dropped. He looked down at the scorched tiles where his Assistant had been standing, then over at the crumpled form of the man himself.

  “It is obvious, honored Speaker,” Veda said calmly. A shard of metal had embedded itself in their ceramic mask, which they plucked out in an unhurried fashion. “Someone with sufficiently powerful magic has interfered with the Wizard Mortimer’s testimony to prevent him from answering truthfully.”

  Mortimer himself was nowhere to be seen. He’d vanished when the wards around the Tower of Baedain’s box rose. The only person left in the box was Howard, who had still somehow caught some shrapnel in his shoulder. He laid on the floor of the box, whimpering pitifully.

  “The Qaetil Saehra will be moving to sequester the Tower of Baedain immediately.” Veda pulled a small amulet hanging from their neck into their palm. It bore the crest of a dagger piercing through a skull. “Anyone seen interfering will be declared as having gone rogue and will be summarily executed. The criminal known as Howard Avery will be taken into our custody as a part of this inquisition. That is all.”

  Veda stepped back from the edge of the box and nodded to the Castellan. His Honor Guard kept him and Sir Kenneth enveloped as they marched backwards out of the box. They continued to keep both men protected as the group exited out through a door in the back of the box and into a curved corridor.

  Shouting could be heard from inside the Council Chamber almost immediately after they left. The only sound in the corridor was the creak of leather and the soft clatter of metal as the Guards headed down the corridor and down a flight of stairs with Veda, Kenneth, and the Castellan in tow.

  “So… did we win?” The knight asked tensely. “You didn’t say that anything would explode!”

  “For a Council meeting, one explosion is a slow day,” The Castellan remarked grimly. Out of his armor, he was a middle aged man with a lot of grey in his close cropped black hair and goatee. He dressed plainly in a manner that reminded Kenneth of the Baron. “The Ward on our box failing? Now that is suspicious.”

  “As m’lord says,” Veda answered calmly. “It could have been worse. Mortimer fleeing the Chamber was to our favor, as was the interference. If he had played his cards a little better when he gave his initial answers, he’d have gotten off with a slap on the wrist. It would have been preferable for the Council to condemn him directly, but this will have to do. Now, it will be a fight between my Order and the Tower of Baedain, rather than the whole city.”

  When they reached the entrance to Baedain’s box, they found the door open. Howard was attempting to flee down the corridor in the opposite direction. Veda raised their staff and uttered a word that Kenneth couldn’t quite make out.

  A single white dove appeared and flew from the end of the staff. It split into two, then each copy split into two more. Soon, a flood of white doves rolled down the corridor in pursuit of Howard, who screamed when he saw what was coming for him.

  He didn’t get very far.

  Not long after, Veda and company approached a bound and gagged Howard laying on the ground. He had been wrapped in linen strips like a mummy. All the birds had vanished back into thin air. The only feature Sir Kenneth could make out on the man was his wild and terrified eyes.

  “... Veda, please promise to never do that to me,” Sir Kenneth asked quietly.

  “Hmm, okay, but only if you promise to behave,” Veda replied with a subtly teasing tone. They reached down and dragged the wrapped ‘Bard’ up with seemingly no effort. “As for this one… I have a lot of questions for him.”