Chapter 4

 

        Count Dietrich of Isenburg arrived at the great doors of Old Corvel Palace in the dead of night. It had been long since he last visited the capital, possibly close to two years if he remembered correctly. It required good reason for the Count to return to this place, and good reason was indeed what he possessed on this quiet night.

He approached the towering doors alone, only arriving to the city by his carriage, which remained at the base of the palace’s massive marble stairs. No knights accompanied him, for this was a personal matter, one that didn’t need to be known to anyone except for the King himself. Dietrich feared little in this world. He was the most powerful of the Seven Counts, with Isengard housing Avaria’s most treasured baronies, unbeknownst to the lowly commoners that resided in them. The only thing he did fear was stagnation, the lack of progress in his ambition. Even the godly King did not strike fear in him, for he was of the few to know all his secrets, all of the things that had allowed him his unquestioned power, and Dietrich possessed those things as well.

The golden domes and marble walls of the palace were indeed awe-inspiring, but not in the same way to Dietrich as they were to everyone else. Where the normal Avarian saw reverence Dietrich saw potential. Potential in what exactly, no one could have known. As he reached the end of the stairs, a duo of armed guards slammed the blunt ends of their spears to the ground, preventing him from inching any further.

“Halt!” they said in unison, with only the one on the left continuing to speak beyond that, “State your name and business!”

Dietrich audibly chuckled at their orders and began to lower the hood obscuring his face, revealing his shining grey hair to the moonlight.

“Didn’t recognize me with my hood up?” he said, amusing himself,

Immediately, the guards loosened their stances and gave a quick bow each, walking to the sides of the grand doors where two levers were placed. 

“My apologies, my Lord,” the more talkative of the two said.

They pushed the levers down in unison, clearly exhibiting a good deal of force. Shortly after, the doors began to open as the churring sound of moving iron chains sounded through the air, followed by a muffled thud from within the stone walls.

“If you would like to speak to His Divine Majesty, I’m afraid he hasn’t been accepting visitors for quite some time,” the guard said, “Even his own daughter, Lady Agnes, has not seen his face in months.”

With the doors now open wide enough to enter through, Dietrich walked into the palace's  main hall with little concern, as if it were his own home. With little choice in the matter, the two guards followed after him. A set of interior guards closed the grand door behind them.

“Well, clearly someone has to be seeing him,” Dietrich replied, his hands comfortably placed behind his back as he gently walked, “He still has to eat and relieve himself, after all, am I wrong?”

“I… guess you are right, my Lord,” the guard said, likely taken aback by the Count’s crudeness, “There may be someone we can find outside the Sanctum Hall.”

The doors to the Sanctum Hall were directly ahead, past lengthy rows of statues depicting old Corvellian kings as well as the first Counts of the united Avaria that had sacrificed their royalty to join Willem nineteen years prior. These doors, similar to the ones at the entrance, also stood at the end of a set of marble stairs, though these were considerably shorter in length. Above the doors was a stained glass mosaic depicting Willem reaching his hand to God. At the peak of day, it radiated with divine light, but in this dark hour the only light in the hall came from the interior chandeliers and lanterns hung from the walls. If not for his prior familiarity with the palace, he would not have realized the mosaic existed at all.

Unfortunately, atop the stairs there was no one. 

“I’m sorry, my lord,” the following guard said, “It seems there is no one you can speak to at this moment.”

“That seems awfully unlike the staff of a king,” Dietrich said, “If no one is out here, surely they’re inside assisting him.”

Without hesitation, Dietrich began to pull on the door’s right handle.

“Wait! My lord—”

As the door cracked open, the Count found the tip of a shortsword aimed beneath his chin. Ahead through the crack was the gaze of a tense and bloodshot eye, staring at him with the firm intent to defend.

“I’m afraid His Divine Majesty is not accepting visitors,” the armed man said from behind the door, “Although you should have been told that already.”

Dietrich, seemingly unshook by the man’s gesture, gently raised his hands in humility and presented him with a warm smile.

“I’m sorry,” he said tenderly, “I was simply looking for someone to speak to on his behalf. I assume that may be you?”

The man did not lower his blade.

“If you want to speak, you can do it where you stand,” he said, “I am Dominic, Lord Chamberlain of Old Corvel and voice to the King.”

“Well, Dominic, I am fine speaking anywhere. It’s only these matters may be best suited to a more private discussion.”

“And just who the hell might you be?”

“Why, Dietrich of Isengard, my friend! Surely you know my name?”

Dominic lowered the sword and opened the door wide enough only to fit himself through, ensuring the Sanctum Hall behind him remained obscured.

“Count Dietrich, you say,” Dominic said, examining him, “The Count ordered to be in Rheinmark at this very moment?”

“I assure you, my barons are far competent enough to hold the fight on their own,” Dietrich said as he backed up to allow the chamberlain space, “It is my care for this war that brings me here, in fact. Now please, may we get a room to speak in?”

Without a word, Dominic gave the Count a displeased look before turning and heading down the stairs. Dietrich followed until they reached a small, dim room along one of the palace’s many hallways. As the two of them sat themselves down at the room’s only wooden table, Dietrich continued his speech right where he had left off.

“Judging by the current state of things, I assume you are the one who wrote the letter in Willem’s name?” he began, “If you do hold such executive power at this moment, this should be quite a bit easier.”

“Go on,” the chamberlain said impatiently.

“It’s plain to see the King in his old age is not the symbol of hope this kingdom needs in a time of war such as this.”

“Is it treason you are suggesting?”

“Of course not, Chamberlain. All I am saying is the King’s death is upon us and Avaria needs a strong heir to follow in his wake. And yet, the King has no male heir, only Her Highness Princess Agnes could possibly take the throne. And though Agnes is revered in her beauty, I struggle to imagine a country led by a woman dainty as herself.”

“Are you asking me to marry her off to you?” Dominic asked in an accusatory manner.

“Why yes, Chamberlain, allow me to be her Consort and I will lead the kingdom for her.”

“And why should you of all people deserve the throne?”
“Because, frankly, Avaria will cease to exist if I don’t. I know of Novum Verum. I know how to use it just as well as Alemannia now does.”

“Alemannia does not possess Novum Verum!”

“Oh, but they do. A form more deadly than that of Willem’s. A material so potent in its illusory charms it can trick the mind into death. It’s what Étienne deploys against Rheinmark as we speak.”

“You lie!”

The two men had both risen from their chairs, a radiating glance of rage bursting from the chamberlain into Dietrich’s soul. Dietrich quickly reached into the leather pouch at his hip and retrieved a small glass jar, aggressively placing it on the table before Dominic.

“But do I?” he replied with a fearsome confidence, “This is the material I speak of, Chamberlain. Weaponized Novum Verum, a mixture of the original substance with the brimstone of Holzstadt. My alchemist and I have put great research into Verum, my friend. While Willem spent his time playing party tricks, we discovered its greater utilities. The mind reacts to Novum Verum in accordance to its surrounding senses, particularly smell. The smell of an heirloom can show someone a long lost relative. The smell of bread can trick the mind into satedness, making men labor until their bodies deplete every last drop of life. And, as we’ve found, the potent smell of brimstone shows the mind precisely what it fears. When I heard the rumors of Alemannia employing dragons in battle, I could only assume they had discovered a similar technology.”

“And how would you know of such a thing from across the kingdom?” Dominic asked.

“Why, my messengers travel at a speed most unmatched, Chamberlain.”

Within the small jar spun a cloud of faint blue vapor, restless in its seeming desire to kill. Dominic stared into it, before shutting his eyes with a conflicted expression.

“It has been said by the King that Lady Agnes will only be married with her own consent,” he said through gritted teeth, “If you marry it will be her decision.”

“Oh?” Dietrich replied, admittedly surprised by the freedom the King allowed his daughter, “Why, of course! She is royalty after all, her say in the matter does not bother me.”

Dominic, still relentlessly judging with his eyes, continued to look back and forth between the Count and his magic jar.

“First prove to me that what you say is the truth,” he said, “Regarding that substance.”

Without a word, Dietrich grabbed the jar and rose from his seat, swiftly walking to the door and opening it out to the hall they entered through. Dominic followed behind.

“I apologise, this will be necessary,” he said to the chamberlain as they left the room. He then turned his attention to a sole guard across the hallway and approached him. “Sir, would you mind sniffing this bottle?”

“Not at all, my Lord,” the guard courteously replied. Dietrich removed the jar’s lid and aggressively shoved it into his face, fully surrounding his nose with the glass. As he pulled it back away from him, a terrified look came over the man’s face, as if he had seen a ghost.

“Please, get away from me!” he said as he stepped back, shielding himself with his hands. He backed up against the wall behind him and sunk to the ground, his expression of horror only growing. He let out a series of guttural screams until he suddenly stopped, his entire body going limp and his eyes becoming devoid of life. 

Dietrich turned back to face Dominic, seeking his affirmation. Instead, he was met with a look of fear, not dissimilar to that of the guard’s, though his fear was not for some imaginary sight. In his eyes was genuine dismay for the Count’s actions, and discomfort in wondering what other cruel things he would be willing to do for his power. Noticing this, Dietrich spoke again, attempting to guide the chamberlain into the line of thought he intended.

“With this technology, Avaria can be strong like it once was, but it’s something Willem would never use.” he said before grabbing Dominic’s hands, “Please, allow me my chance with the Princess, and in doing so give me my chance to let this future take hold. We are no longer in the era of twenty years ago. Avaria held its ground through fear, but now that fear has brewed animosity in our neighbors. We need true, tangible power, and that’s what this is.”

Dominic looked to the floor, then to the guard’s pale body, and finally back to Dietrich, pausing for a moment before he spoke.

“I will arrange a visitation between you and Lady Agnes,” he said solemnly.

Dietrich’s face lit up as patted the chamberlain on the back in a brotherly manner, leading him back away from the room and towards the main entrance hall.

“Good man,” he said, “I will be heading to Rheinmark now to hear a report from my men and then I will be back to Isenburg. If the Princess would like to meet me there in a couple of weeks I assure you we will provide her our finest hospitality.”

As they reached the main hall, Dominic now had his hand on Dietrich’s back as well, subtly guiding him to the grand doors as if to gesture for his quick exit of the palace.

“I will let Lady Agnes know of your wishes in the morning,” he told him, “For now, I’d suggest you get on your way to Rheinmark if you wish for a timely arrival. I worry for the safety of your men in the absence of their lord.”

Dietrich turned to him with a warm smile, though what he said after marked a strange fit for this expression.

“I’m sure they are not faring well, Dominic,” he said, seemingly unfazed by the fact.

Without another word, he waited a few seconds for the grand doors to finish opening and left the palace.