During the return, Gerald received answers to most of his curious questions.

Lucas had been one of the army commanders to the former Duke Fortis. He'd been out in the field when he'd heard that the Duchy's capital was under attack. He'd attempted to return but was surprised by a mutiny in his ranks. A few of his captains had suddenly united in an attempt to overthrow him. After a gruesome battle that only reaped the lives of his own men, he'd emerged the victor. But it had delayed him.

He'd returned to find the Capital within the grasp of the Duke's brother. The latter had received help from one of the neighboring Duchies. Along with his own men, it was enough to overthrow the Duke, Frederick's father, whose army had mostly been in the field.

The Duke had attempted to send his five sons away, but four of them had been caught, meeting the same fate as him. The only survivor was Frederick, the third son, who was now under the care of Lucas.

The caretaker who'd smuggled Frederick out of the Capital had been told to bring him to one of two knights the Duke had trusted the most. Lucas one of the two. The other one had died in battle soon after the treason.

The only message the Duke had sent was a plea for his knight to take the boy and escape, in the hopes of returning some day to reclaim what was his.

Lucas had chosen 2000 men, his most trustworthy, to accompany him. He'd abandoned the Duchy with them and eventually landed in the western territory of the Maric Kingdom. From there, he and his men had posed as sellswords, often doing mercenary work for both gold and appearance.

It had continued for several years, until the new Duke Fortis had found them in the Westwell territory southwest of the basin.

He'd sent assassins after them and had even pit other mercenary groups against them. Eventually, Lucas had had to find a new disguise for his men.

Duke Fortis knew Lucas's temperament well. He would never have expected him to pose and act as a bandit, and that was why Lucas had chosen to do exactly that.

The clawless Viscounty had presented him with a golden opportunity for the new disguise, and he'd stayed within the basin ever since. The soldiers' families had stayed in a Maleh, a seaside town in the Westwell territory.

..

Now Gerald was sitting in his study, two days after the return to Ard. A few letters were spread on the table at his finger tips.

He was tapping on the table slowly with his fingers when someone knocked on the door.

"Come in, Arthur."

"My lord." Arthur entered. "Everything is prepared."

"The chiefs' heads?" Gerald stared at his minister, a clear meaning in his gaze.

Arthur nodded. "As you've commanded, my lord. They have been painted red and hanged above a gate each. Beside their heads, a few corpses of their men are hanging for all to see."

"And about the mercenaries?" Gerald said.

"The word has been spread, my lord. The bandits combined their forces and attacked your allies. They succeeded in murdering Edgar, but they couldn't escape your retribution. You avenged the mercenaries and rid the territory of the feral brigands."

Gerald nodded with a smile. One of the reasons he'd had the chiefs' heads hanged above the gates was that he wanted to make it seem like a grudge. Bandits would have normally had their heads spiked on the outskirts of the castle randomly. But he'd brought it to the sight of everyone within and without the castle that he was making an example out of the chiefs. "Is anyone suspicious?"

Arthur shook his head and chuckled. "None at all, my lord. Even Robard says that the soldiers have no doubts. It is what happened, after all."

"But some might already have doubts about Gasper. It wouldn't be difficult to figure it out."

"My lord, only very few will realize that Gasper's crew is under your command. Commoners certainly won't. And even those who know the truth have no proof that you were the one who's arranged for Edgar's demise. The reputation of the house is safe."

Gerald nodded. He was too concerned, but he'd never thought of it like a commoner or even a soldier. There was nothing to bring doubt. He'd done nothing suspicious enough to point them towards the truth. Even the army had left Ard under the guise of vengeance. Nobody knew the exact time Edgar's fortress had been attacked, and so no one would notice that Gerald had found out about the bandits' assault peculiarly early.

For most people, the bandits might have assaulted the fortress before dawn or even earlier.

"I trust the treasury has come to your liking?" Gerald partly grinned at his minister.

Arthur smiled wide, his lips threatening to split. "Yes, my lord. 30,000 gold coins have been recovered from the bandits."

"Half of it is Edgar's," Gerald chortled. Now his treasury contained 37,000 gold. An amount that was enough to cast his worries away. Lucas had been forced to hand his gold to Gerald, while Gasper had given a portion of his crew's gold to Gerald.

He could finally work on improving the territory with the current amount of gold in his treasury. But there were other matters at hand. Grina and her brother had already been imprisoned after his return. The siblings would be put on trial in the coming days, and Gerald had to do it right.

"I will need to visit Grina," he said.

"Why, my lord?" Arthur raised a brow. "Is something the matter."

Gerald shook his head. "No. I just want to ask her some questions."

"Then I'll prepare for it, my lord."

..

.

Before dusk, Gerald was walking through a corridor in one of Ard's dungeons, loose gravel crunching under his feet. The darkness of the dungeon was barely kept at bay by its torches, and the hard, black stone that it was built with worked to add to the dark more than the light. The walls were jagged, and the smell of piss, sweat, and moss permeated the air. It was horrible enough for Gerald to taste it in his throat.

Dirty doors adorned the right side of the corridor which had no end in sight. Two guards followed Gerald until they came upon two cleaner cell doors. This part of the corridor had obviously been cleaned. The doors were wiped clean and the horrible smell was fainter. The loose gravel had been removed, and the ground was jagged but easier to walk on. This part of the dungeon had been cleaned for his cousins' stay.

"That's the one, mi'lord," a guard pointed at the first of the two clean doors.

Gerald nodded and gestured for him to open it.

The guard hurriedly produced a key from the ring on belt and unlocked the cell.

Gerald walked inside, where it was even darker with no torches. He squinted, and it took him a moment to see Grina clearly. She was seated on the ground, her back to the wall and her limbs chained. He saw the remains of some food, that a well-off man wouldn't scorn, next to her. The guards hadn't treated her too badly.

"The lord comes to visit me," a croaky voice came out of her. She choked on a chuckle that scratched Gerald's ear then she grew silent.

"You failed, Grina," he said, kneeling down to meet her eye. He glanced back at the guard who was at the door. "Close it."

"Yes, my lord." The door swung shut.

Gerald stared at Grina again and smiled. "You turned out to be craftier than I had imagined though."

"It didn't matter in the end," Grina scowled

"Indeed." Gerald produced a stack of letters from his garments. "Your letters." He showed some teeth with his smile. He'd gotten all the letters Grina had sent to Edgar. Uncle Rudolf had recovered them from Edgar's quarters in the fortress.

"Are they not enough proof for you?" she smiled weakly. "Do you want more from me."

"No, no," Gerald shook his head. He raised the letters up to her eyes. "You agreed to marry Edgar. It seems that you had tried to get him on your side before and he had demanded something of this sort, and in the end you agreed. But not only that . . ." He gazed at her, still smiling.

Her face tightened and she hesitated then muttered, "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Were you going to murder your brother for the Viscounty, Grina?" His eyes were fixed on her. She had been planning to put her brother, Estor, in Gerald's seat. But in the letters, he'd found that she had been planning to marry Edgar then take the rule from Estor's hands. She would have Tellus blood, while Edgar would be a man so that a woman wouldn't be ruling. It would have been enough to silence any dissidents, or at least those who couldn't be silenced with blades. Only, Gerald had gotten the notion that she really cared for her brother.

Grina tried to chuckle but ended up coughing. He didn't know why her state had deteriorated so badly when she'd only been imprisoned for two days. It appeared that she'd suffered more in mind than body.

"I would never harm my brother," she said. "It would have been easy enough to persuade him to abdicate. He would have enjoyed being Viscount for a month or two, but the responsibility would have weighed on him eventually."

"So you would have preyed on his weakness," Gerald said.

"No," she growled. "I would have been helping him. My brother can't rule, and he would have harmed more than helped himself. He's too weak."

"Or you just wanted all the power for yourself."

"It isn't wrong, wanting power," she stared back at him this time, her fiery eyes threatening to pierce him. "Only a fool wouldn't seek power. It is everything. You know that well, and if you don't, then you're just another fool."

Gerald was silent for a few moments. He didn't really disagree with her, but she'd reached for what wasn't hers. "You could've stood by me," he said. "You were worthy of being one of my aides, Grina. Had you—"

"And what would have I gotten?" she interrupted him, laughing. "If I had children, what would they get? I could have been one of your aides for a day, a month, a year. But you could have still made me nothing with a single word out of your mouth. My children would have become nothing of worth."

"Is that why you never sought to have children?" he pondered aloud.

"I promised myself that would I have none unless I got the Viscounty. Unless I could protect them."

"The house would have protected them, Grina," Gerald said. "The house would have protected you, had you stayed loyal."

Grina broke into mad laughter at his words. She struggled to stop herself then looked at him scornfully. "Lies."

He stood up and looked down at her. "It's so unfortunate, Grina. I wish it had all gone differently."

Her eyes moved up and landed on him. "I would do it all again, cousin. It could have never gone differently. The risks never mattered to me. I would live above others, not beneath them. Never."

Gerald didn't retort. He had never met a queen, but he imagined that if he met one someday, she would sound a lot like Grina.

She was right. It could have never gone differently. Grina would have been a good aide, but she hadn't been born to be an aide. She was more. He doubted Edgar would have been the one to rule had they succeeded, even with how clever he'd seemed.

He nodded to her slowly and then left the cell.