If I missed any changes (forgot to change Vaughn to Helena or something) tell me.
Castle Araluen was silent. It made Will think of the raided towns he, Gilan and Horace had passed through in Celtica over a decade ago. Shops were closed, no children played in the streets, not even dogs made noise. The entire city was gripped in respectful, silent mourning.
The hoof beats of the Ranger horses echoed softly on the cobblestone streets just as the church bells rang out the time of three o'clock. Will rode next to Gilan and Morgon, just behind Crowley and Halt, and in front of Lily and the other Rangers. Castle Araluen loomed over them, beautiful as ever, and yet now somewhat ominous and painful. King Duncan's banners still fluttered in the breeze on the battlements and in the courtyard of the castle, remaining there out of respect for the fallen king.
Princess Cassandra, Sir Horace, Baroness Helena, and several other faceless knights were waiting outside the castle doors to receive the whole of the Ranger Corps. Will looked at them as a Ranger rather than a friend, purely out of habit. He was a bit sheepish when he realized it, but it helped him recognize the levels of pain they were in.
Cassandra was clearly heartbroken, but like any true leader, she was standing tall and proud, her hair done, her makeup tasteful, and her clothing simple and refined. Her smile was clearly strained as the Rangers dismounted, and as much as Will wanted to ignore it, there was no denying the fact that her eyes were red and puffy. She'd been crying long, and recently.
Horace stood next to her, just close enough for it to go beyond the boundaries of prerequisite formality and protection. His hair was cut shorter than Will remembered, and his old friend had finally managed to acquire something resembling a beard. It was rather jarring, as it made Horace seem less like the humble, affable young knight Will remembered, and more like the battle-hardened soldier he really was. He smile he offered Will was a bit sickly, but better than Cassandra's. At the very least, it didn't make Will want to throw up with guilt.
The Baroness had never struck Will as a particularly trustworthy individual. Even now, Will had the distinct impression that the air of sadness and solemnity the older woman was putting forward was a farce. It was unkind of Will to think so, but Halt had taught him to trust his instincts, and as the noblewoman walked forward to shake hands with Crowley, Will's instincts shrieked in protest. Curious as Will was to see if that was a general opinion, he decided it wouldn't be very politic to yell out unfounded suspicions at a time like this, and resolved to voice them later. Or not at all.
Unlike the majority of Araluen's nobility, Baroness Helena's family did not gain their title and prestige based on merit. They received it as a sort of apology from the royal family several decades after the War of the Eagles, a bloody and brutal civil war between Helena's family, who had been royalty, and Duncan and Cassandra's family, who were related to them by marriage. The depravities of the former royal family had been enough to make Will want to vomit, and enough to bring most of Araluen behind Duncan's ancestor in a revolution that had ended with the child-queen's beheading. Or so they thought.
The queen's twin brother had been dressed as the queen by their desperate relatives, and beheaded in her stead. The girl had gone on to live in a small village, marry, have children, and die the slightly wistful wife of a farmer. Decades later, her grandchildren presented the king with proof of their lineage, and the man, being a generally charitable soul and not believing in punishing the child for the crimes of the father (so to speak) gave the family a title and land. Over the years, the family grew in affluence and prestige, until they were the hereditary leaders of Castle Araluen's police force. Though the Baroness was rarely in a position to work with the Rangers, in this case she most certainly would. Rather, her daughter would, who was, by all accounts, a beloved and trusted member of the city guard. Still, Will remained ready for the customary "us and them" view that was so prevalent in the relationships between locals and Rangers.
"Commandant Crowley," the Baroness said, sounding like she was trying to sound impressive. "I'm sure that, together, we'll find the bastard who did this." Again, Will felt like the expression of outrage fell flat, but if anyone agreed, there was no indication.
"We should talk about that in a more private setting," Crowley said firmly. Helena nodded, still shaking the man's hand briskly. Cassandra walked up to Halt and Will.
"How are you holding up, Cassie?" Will asked quietly. It probably wasn't good manners to call the future queen a fond and friendly nickname, but Will couldn't bear to simply call her "Your Highness" at a time like that. She gave him that same sickly, nausea-inducing smile.
"As good as one can, Will," she replied. "I'm glad you all could come. I'm glad you'll…" She swallowed hard, and Halt reached out and took her hand gently.
"Don't worry," he said. "Whoever did this won't get away. We won't fail you twice." The Rangers and Knights all flinched, and the princess looked stunned.
"Oh, no, Halt. You didn't… It wasn't…" But she saw the guilt and bitterness in every face and stance among the Rangers, and knew nothing she said would do anything other than make things worse. She'd seen the same guilt in the eyes of Horace and his men; she knew their train of thought. They were there, if they'd been faster, if they'd seen…
There was no getting around it. It was a massive failure as far as internal safety and intelligence. As much as Cassandra would like to, there were no excuses. Rangers and Knights were supposed to be the best of the best in their respective fields. They'd failed to do their jobs properly, and they all felt that keenly. Even the Battleschool students and Ranger apprentices, who were in no position to find the plot or stop it, felt responsible. Every night, Will watched sadly as his apprentice practiced feverishly, and had to literally drag him over to the campfire and force him to eat and sleep. God damn him for wishing that something would happen that would make his apprentice care about training more. It piled a whole new, less reasonable slop of guilt on him, as if idle wishes had brought about the assassination of his country's beloved monarch.
"Thank you." Cassandra said lamely. "I hope the investigation is fruitful. The funeral procession is scheduled for two weeks from now. I expect you'll all be a part of it?" The group of Rangers and Apprentices all nodded in unison, and she smiled. "Thank you," she repeated, though this time far more fervently. "Now. If you'll all excuse me, I have a great many letters to write."
Will, acting on impulse, reached out and hugged her tight. Again, not in the least bit professional, but he pushed away the business part of their relationship and gave into the simple friendship they'd acquired over the years. Clearly she did the same, as she hugged him back, and just as tightly.
"Thank you," she whispered in his ear, too low for anyone else to hear. She drew back and wiped at her eyes. She turned and hugged Halt and Crowley both, then hurried off, Horace and her Knights close behind her.
()()()
The funeral procession made a slow, torturous circuit through the whole of Araluen's capital the next day. Princess Cassandra led the official parade, followed by her father's casket, the Knights Araluen, the Rangers, the Diplomats, and finally the majority of the populace.
The casket was placed in the ornate Royal Mausoleum, the final resting place for the royal family of Duncan and Cassandra since their ascension onto the throne. King Duncan was placed next to his wife, the long-dead Queen Miranda. The head of the Holy Church spoke the Last Rites over him as he was sealed into his casket.
Cassandra, Princess Royal, stood outside the oak doors of the Mausoleum, facing the enormous crowd of fellow mourners. Sir Horace, Rangers Crowley, Halt and Will, and Lady Alyss stood close beside and behind her, offering the unspoken support of friendship and loyalty. Among the honored mourners were the Baroness and her daughter, Baron Arald and Lady Sandra, Lady Pauline, various Battlemasters including Battlemaster Rodney, and several foreign men and women sent to act in their leaders stead. Standing in for Erak was an unfamiliar young Skandian named Wulf, who had acted with surprising solemnity throughout his stay, considering the fact that deaths in Skandia were marked with a week long drinking binge. King Sean had sent a letter full to the brim with sincere, heartfelt condolences with his sister-in-law, a sweet young lady with a lilting accent and a talent at cooking hearty breakfasts. By the end of the week, Will was quite sure that a way of mourning in Hibernia was copious amounts of bacon, eggs, sausage and toast. When he asked Halt about his theory, the older man nearly choked to death on his bacon.
"Maybe in a way," he chuckled, a sparkle of mirth in his eye that was understandably rare in that week. "Good food makes you stronger, and strength makes it easier to carry the grief."
Will thought about that assessment as he stood behind Cassandra and next to Alyss. The latter was crying silently, tears streaming down her cheeks as her hand held Will's tightly. The former stood straight and dignified, her eyes dry but still red.
"Araluen has lost a great man," she said. "A great, kind, fair king has been lost to treachery and violence. While I can only pray that I can stand in his stead with his strength, justice and mercy, I know that the one who did this will stand and face retribution for his crime against Araluen and her people." She bowed her head, and she, along with the other Araluen honored mourners, began to chant the Final Prayer.
"The measure of a man
Stands or falls by what he leaves behind
Gather on hallowed ground
Let your voices carry to the sky
Rise in light
Let the Lord look down on this and wonder."
()()()
The guests at the wake in the castle spoke in low tones over the food, even Wulf. Will looked about the room for Morgon, and, failing to find him, sighed. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Halt smiling sadly at him.
"He'll turn up," was all the older man said, but it was enough. Will returned to subdued smile and placed his hand over Halt's.
"It just hasn't really sunk in yet," Will said. "That King Duncan's gone. It was just so sudden. It hasn't…"
"I know," Halt replied gently. "I understand. It's going to take awhile, but Cassandra will be a great queen. And saying 'Queen's Ranger' won't take too long to get used to." Will made a rather sorry attempt at a laugh and got back to worrying about his apprentice. He offered token protest when Halt dragged him over to Crowley and Cassandra, but really appreciated the distraction of conversation, however empty the conversation really was.
"Your Highness. Rangers." Lady Sheridan, Baroness Helena's daughter, nodded to them as she approached, offering even more distraction. "I hope your side of the investigation is going better than ours?" She spoke Crowley, who sighed.
"It'd go better if your mother would let us speak with the assassin," he replied. Lady Sheridan shrugged helplessly. The woman was about Will's age, perhaps slightly older. She clearly took after her father. She had none of the delicacy or regal grace of her mother. Her face was attractive, but in an oddly masculine fashion, with a square jaw and a long, straight nose. Her cheeks were smattered with sun-induced freckles, and her eyes were clear, honest, and bright green. Her ginger hair is tied back in a simple tail and held back by a leather thong, and she wore the utilitarian armor of the guardsman, rather than the ornamental formal dress that the Baroness had attempted to have the guards wear. Will felt a surge of respect for her, and the way she stood and spoke with the reminded him of a knight. Humble, ready, and well-trained.
"I'd let you if I could, Ranger," she said. "But my mother refuses to let me speak with him as well. She says we all have other duties."
"Is that so?" Halt asked coldly. Sheridan glanced at him awkwardly.
"I think she means that she has that front covered," she assured him. Halt didn't appear convinced. "My mother can be trusted, Halt," she said firmly. The Ranger's expression didn't change. "I'm sure she has her reasons-"
"Reasons for what, my dear?" The group nearly jumped out of their skins, and the Rangers cursed their distraction, as the Baroness seemed to appear out of nowhere. Will's internal alarm went off as the presence of two unhappy looking Knights registered to him and his fellows. Cassandra's shock was gone in an instant, and she nodded to the noblewoman.
"Baroness Helena. We were just discussing the investigation into the identity of the assassin's employer. Is there any chance you could give us some news?"
"Of course, Your Highness." Helena's voice was quiet and weirdly syrupy. "It just so happens that the assassin's will broke under torture during the funeral procession, which was why I have been away these past few hours." The Rangers all glanced at each other; not one of them had noticed her absence. "We have the name of the fiend's employer."
"Oh?" Cassandra replied, slightly breathless. "Excellent. Who?" Helena smiled sadly.
"Princess Cassandra, I'm afraid you're under arrest for the assassination of your father, the late King Duncan; treason of the highest degree."
The guests went silent and still. Cassandra stared at her accuser for several painfully long moments, the smile slowly dying on her lips, replaced with a look of carefully controlled outrage and fear.
"He's named me as his employer?" She asked quietly. Helena nodded.
"Yes. You are aware of your rights?"
"This is insane." Sheridan said in a strangled whisper. "Cassandra? Hire a Genovesan to kill her father? That's outrageous!"
"You will come with us to the Tower," the Baroness continued, ignoring the protests that were beginning to rise up from the guests. "There, you shall be held until your trial."
"Helena!" Baron Arald came up, horrified. "Surely the assassin is lying. Anyone here can tell you the princess and the king had no ill will. They loved each other! This is madness."
"Those under torture do not lie, Baron Arald." Helena said simply. This brought out a note of near-hysterical laughter from Will, who'd had enough.
"Men don't lie under torture? Oh, that's a new one," he said sardonically. "Hear that, Halt? Tortured men don't lie. Learn something new every day."
"Will, it's quite alright." Cassandra said, her tone as cold and tense as her expression. "It shouldn't take long for this to all get cleared up." Helena bowed her head, politely skeptical. The two Knights walked forward awkwardly and made to take the princess's arms, but she stood a little straighter. "I can walk quite well on my own, thank you." The Knights looked thoroughly abashed, and the four walked out of the hall, leaving a stunned room in their wake. Will stared after them until he felt a small tap on his shoulder. Turning, he met the startled, confused gaze of his apprentice, Morgon.
"What in blazes was that about?"
()()()
"It's insane." Will said shortly, pacing the room that he, Sheridan, and Halt occupied. "It's completely unbelievable."
"Crowley's talking with Helena right now," Halt said distractedly. "He'll straighten this out."
"How can that idiot even- 'Tortured men don't lie?' That idiot is a high ranking law enforcement official!" The man threw his hands in the air with a cry of rage. "I just- I don't even! I just don't even!" He glanced at Sheridan. "Sorry…" She shrugged, too distracted to care about his rants.
"It doesn't take much for a noble to rise in the ranks of government offices." Halt admitted. "It should, but it doesn't. All it takes is a flair for trussing up your own successes. Or making the successes of others look like your own." Will made a sound of disgust.
"I agree." Sheridan said, speaking up for the first time. "But I can promise you this. No one is going to let my mother get away with this." Before Will could reply, the door burst open, and Crowley stalked in, white with rage and muttering various obscenities concerning Helena, Helena's mother, and Helena's legitimacy. Will and Halt glanced at Sheridan, but if she'd ever cared about what people said about her mother, that time was long past. She simply crossed her arms and waited.
"She refuses to allow a Ranger to speak with the assassin," he announced. "She says that the testimony has already been extracted and there's no reason to provide the man with an opportunity to sow confusion."
"Do we have the paperwork?" Halt asked, after the horror-soaked beat of silence that followed Crowley's statement.
"Yes. But what good is it?" Crowley slapped the file onto the table. "I don't trust Helena; she could have put anything in there. I don't think she plans on trying to find any evidence to back up the princess. She assumes she's the one who hired the man and is ready to kill the last of the royal bloodline!" With it out in the open, the air in the room went cold, and Halt's heart stuttered in his chest. Cassandra was going to be executed if they didn't do something. If they didn't speak up…
Halt blinked, realizing at the man who should have been the most vocal was the one who had yet to say anything. Turning, he blinked, and felt a strange yet familiar surge of pride, irritation, and respect for his former apprentice.
Will Treaty was gone.
()()()
Will crept silently down the halls and staircases of the Tower, the jail for the most infamous or high ranking prisoners. He'd told the guard at the front gate that he was going to speak with the princess, and that was true. After he wrung the truth out of the assassin, he would go straight to the princess with the news.
He'd never been in the torture chambers of the Tower before. While he had used torture before, it was only once, and he'd hated it. He made a point to steer clear of the Tower and its notorious basement until then, and he hoped that his voluntary descent yielded results. The screams that echoed through the dark, dingy halls were going to give him nightmares for quite some time.
The cell that the assassin was being kept in was common knowledge, as the three successful assassins of Araluen history had been kept in the cell 313. It employed a certain superstitious air, the same was that the Rangers employed the average villagers belief that they were magic users, to keep people away. Thirteen was, after all, a very unlucky number.
Will turned the corner to Cell 313 and stopped dead in his tracks. He slumped and held his head in his hands with a sigh. In Norgate maybe. Seacliff. Greenfield even. But the Tower? The prison filled with the deadliest criminals in Araluen?
The guard outside of Cell 313 was asleep. And not just dozing either. He was snoring softly, his breathing rhythmic and slow. Will shook his head in disgust, stalked forward, and took the ring of keys from the guard's belt.
The door opened smoothly and silently, again arousing a bit of irritation and scorn from Will. Rust-covered hinges would not only employ the same dose of terrifying atmosphere as the rest of his surrounding, it would have also woken up the dubious guard. While, as a man sneaking into the cell, he was glad for the sloppiness, as a Ranger and countryman, he was grievously disappointed.
Leaving the door slightly open, Will turned and faced the assassin, and froze.
Will wasn't entirely certain what he'd been expecting, but a young man, a boy really, with skin the color of milky coffee, thick dark hair, and no shirt. The boy didn't seem all that dangerous; not in the condition he was in now at least. He was hanging by his arms, which were tied behind his back, several feet off the ground, and his pain was such that he didn't notice Will come in.
Despite it all, Will's heart cried out at the torture, and he found the lever and let the boy down. The assassin fell to his knees with a cry, and Will shushed him. The boy looked up, and a slow grin came on his face.
"I don't suppose you're here to spirit me away?" His Araluen was fluent, if heavily accented. Will frowned.
"No. I'm here to ask you some questions." He grimaced at the flicker of fear in the boy's eyes. "I'm not going to torture you."
"Good." The assassin said shortly. "I've told you what you and yours wish to know. I've told you who hired me."
"I don't believe you." Will snapped. "The princess wouldn't hire an assassin to kill her own father. The fact that you said she was the one just proves you don't know her."
"And you do?" The assassin countered.
"Yes, as a matter of fact," the older man said archly. "She and I are friends. Have been for years." The boy frowned, troubled, clearly reading the truth in Will's words. "What's your name?"
"Leonardo. You may call me Leo, if you wish." The boy sounded tired, which didn't surprise Will at all.
"Leo then. Tell me who really hired you to kill King Duncan." Leo looked at Will closely, his dark eyes calculating.
"What shall I receive in return?" He asked. Will shrugged.
"What do you want?" A stupid question. He already knew the answer, and he wasn't surprised when Leo said shortly, "Freedom. My life in exchange for the hypothetical truth."
"I can't do that." Will protested. Leo turned his head away.
"Then lift me by my shoulders and leave, for I have said what I meant." Will snarled a curse and stomped his foot, inadvertently amusing the boy in front of him.
"You must think I'm royally stupid," the older man snapped. Leo grinned.
"I think," he said. "That if we were in a fight, you'd be royally tough to kill. And that you're very attractive." Will stared at him, nonplussed. "Not that you'd respond to simple flattery, but the color scheme really works with your skin tone."
"Please stop talking." Will said, disgusted. "You killed my monarch."
"Yes. I did." Leo said. "And I've stated that your princess hired me. Now, as far as I know, I'll die tomorrow at dawn, and none will know the hypothetical truth, yes? Yes. But for the simple promise of freedom on your part, the hypothetical truth will be yours to do with what you will."
Will scowled again, and Leo tutted.
"You'll get wrinkles if you don't stop frowning," he chided. Will ignored him. On the one hand, the boy was an assassin, and the one who ruthlessly killed King Duncan. On the other hand, there was a real possibility of not only freeing Cassandra, but also truly avenging Duncan's death if Will simply released Leonardo.
There would still be the very real consequences of the action. Even Rangers didn't really break the law. They just found creative ways around it. But then, Will reasoned glumly, criminals get off all the time on deals. Freedom for information.
"In addition," Leo said, with the air of someone who was thoroughly desperate. "I'll be at your beck and call for a favor. I'll owe you."
"What on earth do you think I'll need an assassin for?" Will asked incredulously. Leo glanced around the dungeon with ill-disguised cunning.
"How ironic it would be, if the man or woman who hired me to kill Duncan died the same way as your own dear monarch," he said slyly. Will raised an eyebrow, more intrigued than he'd care to admit.
"Fine," he said heavily. "Tell me who really hired you, and I'll untie you. But I'm not helping you get out of the Tower. You're on your own there." Leonardo beamed and wigged his fingers, as if itching for the blood to return to their tips.
"You won't regret it, amici mio. You have my solemn word," he said, in an entirely too happy tone of voice.
"Just tell me who hired you," the Ranger snapped. Leonardo cleared his throat.
"Well. It was a woman of rather unremarkable height and build; very blonde hair, very thin and graceful, though on the older side. She sent a man to Tuscano to bring me to Araluen, and I met her in a rather seedy little inn. I never got her name, though she was thoroughly out of place there. Funny thing though," he continued when he saw Will's slow look of realization. "The same woman who hired me was the one who tortured me. Came in and told me exactly who to blame and how much torture I was going to take before I blurted it out."
Will stared at the boy. "The woman who tortured you?" He asked quietly.
"The very same."
Will snarled a curse as the pieces fell into place and scraps of Araluen history rose up to fill in the gaps. "The Baroness?"
Leo shrugged, then looked up sharply towards the door, and just as Will whirled to see what the boy had seen, the door to the cell slammed shut.