"...would've thought that something like this would happen?"

"Do you think Sir Lowell really did it?" A short pause, then the woman's voice continued, rushed almost. "I mean, there must have been some sort of mistake, because Sir Lowell isn't that stupid..."

"No. He isn't. This must've been set up by those damn Griswoldians."

"Be quiet! Do you want them to hear you?"

"And where do you get that idea? What would Griswold want to kill their own successor for?"

"No... Don't you see?" The man leaned forward, as if to hide his lips from the potential lip readers that crouched on the opposite side of the room. "They're lumping the blame on us so they can take advantage of us through this treaty."

"What are you talking about?"

"The next thing they'll want out of us is an apology."

"But Cedric couldn't possibly have killed King Kristopher. We have nothing to apologize for!"

"Exactly!"

"Will you all keep your voices down? There's going to be some hell raised up in here if the Griswoldians hear you..."

"They have no proof that Sir Lowell did it--"

"--Because he didn't!"

"--AND even if they did, it wasn't in the interest of the nation. You think Pelta Lunata will gain anything from killing Kristopher? If it was an outright assassination attempt, they'd have gone after an acting ruler of Griswold."

There was a cough in the foyer, an average cough that would have otherwise gone unnoticed in any other room. But the silence amplified the cough so it came like a boom. The cluster of nobles who spoke jumped, throwing cautious eyes about, only to receive the same cautious eyes thrown from the opposite side of the room. The silence resettled over the foyer, uneasy.

"Shush! That is most definitely not something we want THEM to hear."

"IF Cedric killed Kristopher, and I'm not saying he did, it would have been a crime of passion, and they should know it. Griswold can't take advantage of Pelta Lunata through this treaty because King Kristopher Vilentrope's death, bless his soul, was not related to Pelta Lunata in any way, shape, or form."

"How can you speak of this event so casually?"

"Easy. If we make a big fuss out of this, it only proves weakness in Pelta Lunata. We apologize, life goes on."

"What? Apologize to Griswold?!"

"Sh!"

The gruff man's voice continued in a near hiss. "If we apologize, we'll look guilty! Don't you think that's what they want?"

"I'm not saying Pelta Lunata killed King Vilentrope. I'm saying Cedric Lowell killed King Vilentrope." A suppressed gasp came in response to his words, but he only continued. "And we have to admit this, else this treaty is done for."

"You think Griswold is going to notice the difference? Cedric is Peltian! They're not going to just accept the apology!"

"They should. They want this treaty to work--"

"No. No they won't! Because these are the people we've been at war with for as long as I can remember!"

"Edmund, calm down."

"The only reason they want this treaty is because word got out that Heravera's new battleship was contracted with US. And that they know if they continue this war, we'd wipe their asses so hard they won't know what the hell to do with themselves!"

There was a sudden movement near the benches in the middle of the foyer, one that seemed to disturb the tension in the air. The four nobles flinched, immediately silenced as if their secretive words had somehow been leaked to the other side. August Zachariah, dressed still in his evening clothes, almost as if he hadn't changed at all, had stood up suddenly, his black suit a stark contrast to the pastel sleeping gowns of the nobility. He marched down the hallway to another guard who stood in silent stillness at the entrance of the foyer. The chilly draft of an early morning seemed to drift past the doors, made even chillier by the cold aura that emanated from the armored knight.

The guard would have rolled his eyes if they weren't already fixed in a glare on the doctor through the slits of his visor. "My lord. I ask that you return to your seat. Everything is under control."

"How long do you expect to keep us here?" As August spoke, his voice seemed to carry throughout the entire room, enhanced by the hushed silence that pervaded all the parties.

The guard shifted his weight irritably. It was easy to see that he had been disturbed from his sleep far earlier than the nobles were. "As long as needed, my lord." His eyes flicked over the restless mass of nobles lining the walls. "We are investigating the murder of a royalty. It is a necessary precaution."

August's dry laugh seemed to echo in the hall. "Please, we here all know who presumably did it." He could feel all the eyes of the Griswoldian nobles land upon his back. "What I want to know is why you are holding us here when you already have the man in custody."

The guard let out a sigh, leaning on his spear. If it was a gesture to remind August of the weapon the guards of Hagar wielded, the doctor most certainly acted like it wasn't even there. "My lord. While we have a suspect in custody, it is necessary for us to continue the investigation until all answers are brought to light."

August turned his head, shifting his weight from one leg to another, and said almost casually, "Sir Knight, it is clear that no one here is a threat to anyone. Why, all the men and women here today are dressed in night gowns." There was a rustle of fabric as many of the nobles seemed critically aware of the doctor's words. "But what I find as an even greater threat, is that so many of us are gathered here."

The guards seemed to tense. Even the nobles behind him ceased their hushed whispers. The guard's grip on his spear tightened. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean..." August's voice increased, filling the entire chamber, "...is that I can think of no other place with all the brightest minds and all the powers of the nations so concentrated as Ascoth's Castle. Here is the lifeblood of three nations. It cannot be a coincidence that the malice behind Late King Kristopher Vilentrope's death occured here!"

If there were any other murmurs within the hall, it was all silenced now. All eyes were turned toward August, and he continued on. "Do you mean to tell me that it is safer to confine the minds of our nation here where the murderers behind the newly crowned king still lurk?"

"Cedric Lowell's already been arrested!" It wasn't the guard who spoke this time, but one of the nobles of Griswold.

August turned toward the speaker, almost addressing the throng of nobles with his gaze. "Do you honestly think he's the only one?" Silence was his only answer as he locked eyes with the nobles who looked back at him. "Really? No one who truly planned to weaken the powers of a nation would target just one figure. With the faces of the nation gathered here, what other time would a terrorist choose than now to wipe us out?" The glares on his back lifted, the nobles all turned to look at each other, suspicion and accusations teaming in their eyes.

The guard stepped forward, the metal plates of his armor clunking with the movement, and August turned to look at him. "My lord, it would be best to not incite panic within this room with your wild theories."

"And you mean to keep us here while he who planned the death of King Kristopher and the imprisonment of Cedric Lowell makes his move?" August took a step back, toward the crowd and at the same time, steered clear of the spear that itched to arm itself in the guard's hand. The silence in the room began to give way to frantic whispers. "Are the king and queen caged in another room as well? Don't you think you should separate them, in case the mastermind targets them? Or target us? We could be destroyed!"

"Contain yourself, my lord." The guard stepped forward, reaching to grab August by the arm, but it was already too late.

"Was that your plan all along, you filthy Griswoldians?!" One of the nobles roared.

"What?! It was you Peltians who murdered our prince and King!"

"You're trying to frame us!"

"Are you scheming to destroy all the Peltian nobles all at once?!"

"Treacherous pigs!"

In an instant, the gap that marked the division between nations within the foyer of Ascoth's Castle was breached. A fist was thrown, and all hell broke loose. The air was filled with battle cries and lady's screams as the veterans of the war engaged in all out brawl. August was shoved roughly to the side as the guard let out a curse, rushing forward to break up the fight. "Watch him!"

The dozen of guards stationed at the entrances rushed forward, throwing men off of each other and pulling ladies back. There was a flash of light, one of the magicked orbs used to illuminate the hall bursting and showering shards of glass down on the cacophony below. Several of the nobles erupted into terrified shrieks, the brawling veterans' curses increasing in pitch until the magically blessed began flinging their own spells around.

Before August knew it, he was pushed against the wall as lords and ladies in their silk night gowns rushed past him in an attempt to reach the entrance. There was the tinkle of expensive pottery and statues as they were knocked to the floor, the rip of fabrics and somewhere, a drape fell victim to a stray fire spell. The guards ordered to watch August were swept up in the mass of nobles rushing to escape the foyer that, though spacious before, was far too cramped for a mass brawl, their shouts barely audible over the din of the chaos.