FHC B2 Chapter 51: High Council (Patreon)

The queen stepped back. "Si-sir Grimm?"

I stood straight and inhaled. The voice confirmed it; she reeked of corrupted blood.

"Cain?" Devon asked as he watched the royals grow increasingly more panicked.

"She smells of corruption," I responded.

Alice stepped forward and sniffed, turning serious. She nodded. "She does."

"I haven't done anything!" Lynrell exclaimed.

Mulren stood in front of his wife. His bodyguards got into position, creating a double-layer wall before the royals. They tensed, but they kept their swords sheathed.

"Explain yourselves," Devon commanded.

"Ehem, pardon me, but I can explain," came a voice behind us.

An older man in brown robes hobbled into the throne room, his tall walking stick tapping against the floor. His hair was cut short and neat, while his beard looked unkempt. Deep brown stains coated the apron around his waist, and he gripped his staff with dust-colored gloves.

As he moved closer, his collar slipped, and I noticed a chain choker hanging snugly around his throat.

"Sir Renner?" Ulren asked. "This is hardly appropriate for meeting such guests!"

So he's the court sorcerer. Doesn't look like much.

"Bah. I had to tame an unruly plant. My apologies, but I doubt the Grimms care much for appearances," Renner countered.

"You said you could explain?" Devon asked.

"Yes, I believe I know what is wrong. Grimms are famously known for their keen sense of smell. Useful and a great tool for finding the target of your hunts. No?"

Devon crossed his arms. "Get on with it."

Renner cleared his throat and stopped next to the bodyguards. "Lady Lynrell? If you'd please step forward."

The queen hesitated but complied; one knight hung close, never taking his eyes off us or Renner.

Renner bowed to Lynrell and held out his palm. Lynrell extended her arm, and Renner gently lifted her sleeve, revealing black veins along her arm.

"Lady Lynrell was cursed as a child. Her treatment has been slow and painful, but we have made great strides. Over time and after numerous concoctions, we have finally found a formula that works. These black veins are all that remains, and the lady's health is much improved. I don't know what this 'corruption' is, but I suspect this may be the cause."

"And what about the other Grimm? Did he not pick up on the scent?" Devon questioned.

"Ah, sir Garret?" Renner smiled. "He did indeed notice the smell, but it was not from Lady Lynrell herself. At the time, I was concocting another batch of potions. Part of the cure, it seems, is to use the very corrupted blood that plagues her."

He looked smug as he said the last line. If he had been treating the queen all this time and only recently made the discovery, I can see why he would be pleased.

"Alchemy to cure a curse? Where did you get the knowledge, sorcerer?"

Renner frowned and dropped Lynrell's arm. He clutched his staff and slowly undid his robe. He pulled up his shirt and exposed his belly, riddled with scars. They formed a rune but looked like they had long since healed, with deep gashes marring the circle around the rune.

"A witch once ran an orphanage. In her time, unbeknownst to the kingdom, she kept her experiments underground, away from prying eyes and ears. I am but one of the two survivors. Her knowledge in botany and alchemy was extensive, even if gained through unethical means."

Alice shook her head. "Witch's alchemy. A game of sacrifice."

"Indeed, girl. I have paid my weight in blood and flesh. And now I use the knowledge for something better."

"And he is a valued member of the court and to my family personally. My apologies to the three of you. I  hope Renner has cleared my wife of suspicions."

Devon ignored the king and studied the sorcerer. "And who was the other survivor?"

"That would be Joseph. He serves as the royal alchemist, his talent surpassing even mine. While he was not cursed with the gift of mana, he has made it his mission to decode the witch's text and complete the work without stooping to her depravity."

Again he came off as smug, stoic almost under the weight of Devon's scrutiny.

"We shall speak after this meeting is done," Devon said firmly.

"If that pleases you, Grimm," Renner bowed.

Mulren turned to Ulren. "I believe it is time to fetch the others."

"Yes, your grace," Ulren responded before rushing out of the room.

The tension slowly faded, and we were offered drinks and food, but we declined. Marcus stood near us, unmoving like a statue, while the king and queen took to their chairs. Mulren sat upon the throne, and Lynrell joined him on a smaller chair a step below.

A young man around our age walked in. He shared similar looks to the queen, his hair blonde and dirty with a tanner skin tone. He kept his eyes trained forward, only stopping to bow before Renner.

Joining him was a young woman around the same age, but she shared more with the king. Her dark brown hair was done in a bun and moved with a dress similar to the queen's.

"My eldest son and heir to the throne, Prince Tyrell. Along with my eldest daughter, Princess Myreen."

The two bowed and curtsied before taking their positions to the side, nearest the king but standing below him.

Garret walked in next, his eyes lingering on Devon while skipping over Alice. He ignored me entirely and leaned against the wall beside the table lined with food. Devon glared but said nothing, and the last of our guests arrived.

Lady Baathan was a diminutive elder woman, her hair grey, but her eyes remained sharp even as wrinkles marred her skin. She moved to the right, standing on the queen's side of the room. Next was lord Redmire, with hair black as coal and a sharp beard. He stood almost as tall as Devon, and unlike the other nobles besides the king, he wore a silver chestplate over a deep red robe that ended above the ankle.

The dude looks jacked.

Lord Redmire's intimidating appearance made the third guest almost dismissive. Lord Vertus was best described as 'mousey.' His features were narrow, and his eyes looked skittish. His hair was slicked back, and he maintained a clean-shaven face that highlighted his incredibly pointy chin.

I suspected lady Baathan to be the most dangerous of all the nobles. Lord Redmire had the muscles and height, but the lady had a cold, calculative look. She openly glared, unbothered by our status as Grimms.

Krenlow came in last and silently took his place on the king's side of the court. Ulren joined the prince and princess, standing behind them, and the doors to the throne room slammed shut.

"Lady Baathan and Lords Redmire, Vertus, these are the Grimms. Sir Devon, sir Cain, and lady Alice. Lord Krenlow already knows of our guests, so he needs no introductions," Mullen explained.

Only Lord Vertus bowed.

Mulren frowned but said nothing and gestured toward Krenlow.

Krenlow took the stage and stepped forward.

"During our travels, we were greeted by the Grimms. They sought nothing but passage to the capital. As I'm sure you have all heard the stories and legends surrounding their organization, I gladly invited them to the caravan. Little did I know that making such a decision would save the life of me and mine."

"You've already explained this, Ashton," Redmire interrupted. "Please, we all heard the stories of the Grimms. No need to wax poetic and recount a tale of heroism and bravery. We are here for more than that; our time is precious."

Krenlow glanced at Mulren, who nodded with annoyance clear on his face.

Krenlow sighed. "Very well. Then, let it be known that one of the caravan guards assigned to us was a traitor. Me and my family were to be kidnapped and disposed of as the bandits saw fit. Those bandits were not ordinary. Led by a monster masquerading as a man, they employed foul magic and trapped a guardian of the mountains with the help of rogue magic users."

"Guardian? What guardian? You did not mention this," Redmire accused.

Guardian huh?

This time, Krenlow looked to me.

I kept silent, as did the others, and eventually, he cleared his throat.

"I have not met him personally, but my wife and child have. He called himself Rock-splitter. He was supposedly a true giant and the owner of the mountain."

"The kingdom owns these lands. Not some monster," Redmire spat.

Garret flicked a cheese cube at the noble's head, who stared with his mouth agape.

"Correction. You live in these lands. What pocket of humanity you have carved for yourself is still beholden to the creatures who claimed ownership long before your birth."

The noble grew an interesting shade of red, and veins bulged along his neck. Surprisingly, it was the Baathan noble who smacked his shoulder.

"And if we decided to get rid of this giant claiming ownership? It would not be the first nor the last monster we have cleansed," she countered.

Garret chuckled, but Devon spoke first. "The giant was a keeper. If you threatened his life, we'd remove your heads and purge your line."

Her eyes narrowed, and she clenched her jaw, but unlike Redmire, she kept silent.

"Is there evidence of this betrayal? Does it reveal who is responsible?" Vertus asked.

"No, the letters shown to me were, unfortunately, vague. But I believe sir Devon knows more."

All eyes turned to Devon. He ignored the nobles and stared at the king.

"You received the reports regarding the failure of one of your stewards? The village that watches over Malkar's forest."

Mulren winced. "Yes. It's an unfortunate report to receive, but we have already sent his replacement. I apologize to the Grimms for our failure."

Devon ignored him and continued. "The anchor seals had signs of their chains tampered with, the metal eroded away by powerful magic. The same type of magic was involved with the bandits. Two figures chained and stole the eye of the Keeper. And two figures again were responsible for the destruction of your village."

"Preltervale," Mulren said somberly. "Do we know what happened?"

"The villagers were used in a mass sacrifice. The ritual tore out their hearts and used the souls of children as anchors. Ash covered the village and extended into the forest. After we arrived, we freed the souls and put the revenants to rest."

Everyone looked uncomfortable. I ignored the nobles and noted the grim expressions on the prince and princess. Renner had a look of outrage, a hint of anger bleeding through his thin lips.

"And so you have arrived at the capital to hunt the ones responsible?" Redmire asked, his tone more restrained than before.

Devon shook his head. "No."

Redmire's eyes widened. "What do you mean no? But you said-"

"Our only task is to complete our hunt," Devon growled. "That is our only objective. If our target is not responsible, they'll be dealt with another time. Is that clear?"

Redmire clenched his fist, and Baathan glared. But it was Garret who broke the silence and chuckled to himself.