"Everyone out," Anton ordered his council, and the people slowly filed out of the room, only Brandon staying still, knowing that when it came to matters related to Mary, he had a right to enter. Both Brothers equally loved their sister, and they knew she did for them as well. To avoid a moment where they would have to scheme with one another to win Mary's trust, they reached an unspoken agreement not to request a thing from her without the others' knowledge.
The woman stood to the side with closed eyes and a lowered head as the council slowly funnelled out, ignoring their looks without moving an inch, like a statue. Only when the last step of footsteps had gotten an acceptable distance did she rise and walk forward, resting one hand on her chest, and lifting the end of the dress with the other.
"Your Grace. Chancellor." Mary's tone was effusive as she spoke, but reserved enough not to feel too friendly.
"There is no need for formalities, sister. Please sit." Anton said politely as a King guard got the door. Leaning back, both he and Brandon had small smiles as they looked at the woman who pulled a green fan with golden lining, matching her dress.
"I have received a report on what you ordered, Your Grace." Brandon stared at his sister, her smile hidden behind a fan as she retold everything Edmund had found out. Watching her, he nodded along, with him and Anton adding their own agreements about her resurrection of Lady Death.
Yet staring at Mary as she patiently waited for the two to come to a decision, holding her thin smile behind a fan, her loving gaze staring at the two, hiding a deep chill born from love, she clenched his fist. 'What a terrifying woman.' His brother was a good rival, but also a good ally, each making up for the other's weaknesses and providing one another a challenge.
Mary was different. She had no real power other than who she married. No titles, no formal position, yet she was able to sit before the two most powerful men in the realm, with a soft smile, chuckling as she hid herself behind a fan. She knew exactly where power lay and had expertly placed herself in it. If their mother were alive, maybe she would be the only one who could do what she did, but even then, it was likely to be less effective Mary.
It was a power born from affection, yet behind it all was a shrewd mind that knew how to weaponise it. 'Power without a crown.' It was a terrifying position and one he and Anton couldn't challenge. Not out of weakness, but because they couldn't bring themselves to harm their little sister.
Anton sighed, snapping Brandon out of his thoughts. "Brandon." Anton tapped the desk, "Look into the religions acorss the sea. Also." His eyes darkened, "Keep a check on the North. If it is a part of their Pagan faith, we must know."
"Of course." Resting a hand on his chest, he lowered his head, "Your grace."
"Your Grace." Mary spoke, snapping her fan shut, "It may be nothing, but Edmund mentioned another Princeling seeing him during his investigation. Walter's child. Tristan." Brandon watched and saw his brother clasp his hands together.
'He knows this boy?' It was subtle, but Brandon knew his brother's quirks. 'Why would he know a nameless Princeling?' Pushing his monocle to reposition it, the action didn't go unnoticed by the two.
"Is there an issue, brother?" Anton asked with a flat tone. The two stared at one another, trying to gauge a read of them. Staring into his brother's eyes, which looked unreadable to others, he saw deep inside them a look trying to gauge if he knew the child.
'He suspects me. Interesting.' "Of course not, I just wonder why a nameless Princeling is of concern." Smoothly saying, he let his hand drop, 'I did get reports of Anton's children talking to a child of the family. But it was a random encounter, from what they said.' Keeping his emotions in check, he stopped his smile from forming, 'I may need to see this boy.'
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Tristan took a deep breath, hearing all of Annabell's reports. "So its problem the King is looking into?" Tristan frowned. He had expected that when the word heresy was said, but this confirmed it. "Should I stop looking into it then. I thought it could be a chance to prove myself, but it may be best not to interfere."
Saying that to himself, he chuckled and shook his head. Forget investigating, he couldn't even bring himself to leave the Palace walls. "Tristan. Maybe you can become friends with that Princeling instead." Annabell offered. "As I said, you need to make friends here first, and those two you met outside are disgusting."
Tristan thought on it for a moment, considering Annabelle's words. It wasn't a bad idea. Edmund was a child who didn't have political power but was the son of the woman with the king's ear. It wouldn't hurt to build a relationship, and it could be done easily through the encounter in the library. Although he would need to plan it so his actions looked natural, it was possible.
"You're right. I can't just rely on Elias and Mabel." Tristan said to himself. He realised the limitations of getting close to the siblings. They wouldn't trust him completely; it would be a relationship much like his with Hank, kept at arm's length, knowing they could drop the other if the situation required. Edmund was different. "Okay." Pushing himself up, Tristan thought about Edmund. He was a quiet boy who spent most of his time reading about what he had seen over the years. There was a seriousness to him, but it was mainly focused on his studies, trying not to disappoint his family.
Walking the halls, Tristan slowly made his way to the library, letting himself in. Unlike at night, it was packed with courtiers who used the place as a quiet place to talk to one another or teach their wards. The arrival of one more Princeling was of no concern, simply seen as another child coming for his studies.
'He usually studied books on management. His father is a lord after all, and as heir to that land, he needs to know what to expect.' Gliding across the library, he arrived at the section related to Flatland, the area Edmund's father came from and grabbed a random book, finding a seat and reading with one eye as he watched the surroundings.
Waiting, hours passed. Tristan skimmed the books he was reading, occasionally requesting food from a passing servant who was around, before returning to his book. High above, jumping from bookshelf to bookshelf, Annabell watched and listened, ignoring all which was pointless and remembering that which was not.
Tristan took a deep breath and peeked up, seeing two people approach. One was a boy a year younger than him, the other an older man with brown hair, limping with a walking stick. 'Edmund and Lord Wells.' Recognising the boy and his father, Tristan glanced back down at his book, pretending not to have noticed until they got close enough.
Once they did, Tristan acted shocked as if pulled out of a trance of what he was reading and quickly rose, placing a hand on his chest, "Lord Wells. Cousin Edmund." Wells gave a passing glance to Tristan, keeping his serious look and nodding. Tristan rose and stared at Edmund.
"Tristan." Edmund was stunned for a second before straightening himself up, "You study the Flatlands as well." Tristan smiled, nodding, noticing Lord Wells taking a step back, his cane taps echoing off the bookshelves. The man stayed silent, keeping watch over his son, waiting to see how things played out.
"I was reminding myself of the different houses of the Flatlands. I wish to do my part for my family, and as I have reached adulthood, I know I must marry soon. The Flatlands is one of the many places I wish to examine, in hopes of bringing prosperity to both my family and whoever's Lady's house I shall marry into." His words flowed like silk as he easily said everything.
Looking at Edmund, he saw the young man shocked for a second before he fixed himself. Lord Wells stepped forward and looked down at Tristan with a friendly smile that hid his serious attitude. "You study my homeland?"
"I am doing so, but can't say I am an expert." Lord Wells nodded.
"What is my family's motto?" Tristan smiled.
"Water is life. Your sigil is a brown background with a blue raindrop." Tristan rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment, "Although that is not something I should be proud of knwojng seeing as it's on your chest." Wells chuckled.
"Then what of House Doyle?" Tristan pretended to think for a moment.
"The wind carries." Tristan pretended to fall into thought once more, "The sigil is a blue background with three white lines over it." Wells nodded again.
"Do you care to listen to my son's lessons. Your request is noble, but books cannot tell you everything about a land. Customs and culture are better learnt by a person who has lived with them." Hiding the cheers in his mind, Tristan placed a hand on his chest again.
"You honour me." Tristan cooly replied
"Humility is not required in front of me when you carry the Cosmaton name, young princeling. The Wells family serves you, not the other way round." Nodding, Tristan rose and thought for a second. It was one thing to be invited, but he felt the need to impress Wells slightly, to make him want to have him as his son's friend. After all, it was the man's choice in the end if he believed his son should get close to someone whilst under his tutelage.
"I am of the opposite opinion. The Lords of Veston place faith in my family to lead them. We must serve to meet these expectations, or else what right do we have for the throne?" Tristan saw Wells show a slightly stunned look. Tristan smiled and carried on walking. Even if he was using sweet words to butter up to Wells, it was still soemthing he believed. A king didn't deserve a throne for themselves. It was in the service of everyone around, or else why should they have been allowed to reign.