Khari almost felt bad for the poor sucker they were escorting back to the ballroom. Sure, she'd killed Philippe or whoever that guy was, but Celene had probably hired her for that, too, so it was easy enough for her to figure that she was likely to get the short end of the stick here. Maybe it shouldn't beâKhari knew assassination wasn't exactly the honorable thing to do. Maybe it was just personal bias that meant she always blamed the employers for it and not the assassins themselves.
They also had a spitting-mad Gaspard in tow, which was bound to make things interesting. Khari wasn't really certain how this was all going to happen, exactly, but she was willing to bet he was going to waste no time accusing Celene of trying to kill him with Venatori, or something else ridiculous. They had the bodies in the hall to prove that the Venatori had been around, but even if Celene was a power-hungry bitch, she really didn't seem like the type to fancy colluding with Corypheus and a nutty Tevinter supremacist cult.
Apparently, thinking about this kind of thing was Khari's life now.
Hopefully the others had their evidence in hand, because there was no way Gaspard was going to wait politely for anyone to make any extra inquiries. She practically had to jog to keep up with him, though the people like Cy and Ves with longer legs were managing a little better. âThis oughta be interesting." She aimed the comment at no one in particular, but she did hear Cyrus snicker. At least someone was having fun.
"Hopefully not too interesting," Vesryn said, having finished catching his breath only a few seconds earlier. "I'm not sure how much more interest this palace can take."
The crowd actively got out of Gaspard's way; though she couldn't see the expression on his face, it was probably murderous or somewhere close. He stomped through the foyer, then into the ballroom, where it looked like the dancing had ceased. The Empress was back up on the upper balcony, and the music had faded to something more subdued, but whatever was going on stopped abruptly when Gaspard raised his voice.
"Celene!" He certainly could make his tone booming. Probably a field-command thing. Almost comically-synchronized, a roomful of nobles and guests turned around to face him. Face them.
Celene, for her part, did not react overmuch. "Dear cousin," she intoned, in a sort of half-friendly, half-condescending way that was hard to pin down exactly. "Whatever has you so upset? We should hate for any of our honored guests toâ"
"Cut the platitudes, Celene. You hired a Bard to kill me, and you failed." Gaspard pointed back towards where Mick and Ves were transporting said Bard. "That's still a crime under the law, and you've lost your right to call yourself anyone's Empress!"
A murmur of surprise passed through the room, like ripples over a pond. Clearly, either the news or the manner in which it was being delivered was quite surprising to the gathered crowd. It had to be the secondâassassinations were pretty normal here, after all.
Rom made a rather quiet approach on Khari's right flank. The attention of the room was pretty firmly situated on Gaspard and Celene, their dispute quite clearly coming to a climax before the eyes of the entirety of Orlais's highest nobility. Rom took in the last arrivals to the scene himself, noting the half of an arrow still lodged in Gaspard's back, and the blood decorating some of the Inquisition's members, Khari included.
"This should be good," he murmured, close enough to her ear for only her to hear, what with the way the room was still murmuring in surprise and confusion. "We got what we need on Celene. Leon handed it off." He took his eyes away from the scene for a moment, inspecting her dress. "They get you anywhere?"
She shook her head, grinning. It was probably weird that she was this glad to have been in a fight just now, but it was about the first time all night she'd felt like a help instead of a hindrance, and the adrenaline was slow to come down. âNah. It's all Venatori blood." She was curious as to what he'd mentioned, though, and returned her attention to the stand-off between Celene and Gaspard.
"Have we now?" Celene remained nonplussed, her hands delicately folded in front of her, the very picture of demure innocence. It almost suited her, which was uncanny considering all they knew about the kind of person she was. Perhaps she was just that good an actress. "We are quite sorry to hear that someone tried to take your life, Grand Duke, but we are unsure why you believe we were responsible for such a thing."
This close, Khari could see Gaspard's jaw flex as he clenched his teeth. "Don't be coy. The assailant is one of Dame Cygne's Bards. You are the one who insisted that only they be allowed inside the Winter Palace this evening!" At that, a few of the more knowledgeable eyes in the room swung to Aurelie herself, who wore a much more neutral expression than either Gaspard or Celene did, almost disinterested.
"Again, dear Gaspard, if that is so, we are sorry to hear it, but we selected entertainment for this evening to ensure delightful music, not your death." Celene seemed a little less sanguine now, almost as though she were growing irritated at his persistence.
"Youâ" Gaspard didn't get very far before he was interrupted.
A throat cleared conspicuously from the right side of the ballroom, where the herald who'd announced the guests held a new piece of parchment aloft. "On this day, 23 Wintermarch of the forty-third year of the Dragon Age, Her Majesty Celene Valmont I does promise the sum of five hundred royals to the organization Le Nichoir, and its proprietor, Lady Aurelie Montblanc, for services to take place on 2 Drakonis of the same year. These services are to include musicianship and entertainment for a fĂȘte at the Winter Palace in Halamshiral, as well as the elimination of Gaspard de Chalons from contention to the crown of Orlais, by whatever means deemed most expedient and appropriate, to be carried out by the agent Wren."
There was quite a resounding silence after that; the herald folded the document back at its creases and returned it to the waiting hand of a tall nobleman with a fox maskâJulien. He smiled, leaning forward against the balcony rail on his side. "You were saying, Your Majesty?" There was no mistaking the satisfaction in his voice.
Khari felt her grin spread over her face. Oh, this was good. âNice." She breathed the word on an exhale, reaching out for Rom's shoulder and squeezing. More jubilant displays of excitement would probably have to wait, so the did her best to contain herself, but if she hopped a little in place, well... no one was looking in this direction anyway.
"Not a bad story, how we got that," Rom said, smiling. "I'll tell you when we're done here."
The Inquisition's condemnation by proxy had an obvious effect on the crowd, too; the muttering increased in volume, and the general tenor of it took on a hostile edge. More than one disdainful look was leveled at the top of the balcony where the Empress stood.
Gaspard, riding the wave of success, took it upon himself to meet eyes with some of the guards. "Arrest herâfor attempted murder and conspiring with the Venatori."
"Actually." This time, the voice that stopped proceedings was quite familiar. Estella stepped free of Lucien and Asala. "I contest the last claim. The Venatori serve Corypheus, not the Empress, and one of his agents was discovered among us tonight." She stood calmly, hands clasped in front of her, and tilted her head at Gaspard. "No doubt this agent wished death upon the both of you, as well as upon His Highness Lucien." She gestured behind her, where Rilien appeared, holding Florianne by the arm.
Her hands had been bound behind her back, and she seemed to have taken a few blows, but she was otherwise unharmed. The way she was dressed must have been the style of those harlequins someone had mentioned earlier in the night. Assassins with the House of Repose, or something like that.
Gaspard's mouth fell open. Clearly, he had not been expecting his own sister to be responsible for sending the Venatori to kill him.
Khari was pretty surprised, too. Florianne hadn't seemed any less suspicious than anyone else, but she wouldn't have picked her to actually be a trained assassin like Aurelie, much less one who worked for Corypheus. âWait... how'd we figure that one out?"
"Offered her bait she couldn't pass up," Rom explained quietly. "Crown Prince and Lady Inquisitor in the same spot, with Rilien and Asala watching over them. Drew her into an attack."
"I suppose that's one way to do it," Ves commented from Khari's other side, keeping his voice low. "Doesn't look like she gave any of them too much trouble."
The Grand Duke now clearly wasn't sure how to feel about things, but he recovered enough to find his voice, at least. "Then arrest them both." He shook his head. "Celene has invalidated her claim to the throne, and in so doing, invalidated her line of succession. There is only one way to answer this." He crossed his arms over his chest, still clearly ignoring his injuries, and leveled a hard stare at a cluster of people in light grey. They were dressed pretty similarly to Philippe, so it must be some kind of official uniform for the Council of Heralds.
They all looked at each other, obviously as surprised by the turn of events as anyone. It was hard to get a read on the crowd overall, though some people were nodding, as if to express agreement with Gaspard's implication. Not too far away, the Costanzas exchanged a more worried glance. After all, if Celene's entire line of succession were invalidated because of what she'd done, then it would return to Judicael I's, and there was no longer anyone in front of Gaspard there.
There was general confusion for a few more moments, and then the grand double doors from the foyer flew open, one of them slamming back against the wall. In strode a very irritated-looking Guillame Drakon, followed somewhat more sedately by Violette, who escorted yet another prisoner in much the same manner as Rilien had kept hold of Florianne.
"Give it a fucking rest, Gaspard, you're just as guilty as them and you damn well know it." The Lord-General was obviously not inclined to mince his words for the sake of politeness. There were even a few scandalized gasps at the crudeness of his language.
Khari snorted, biting down on her knuckle to stifle the cackle that threatened. This had to be that merc Rom's group had captured a couple hours ago. But seriously, if the court found this kind of language offensive, they should hear her talk... ever. It was pretty ridiculous that that bothered them when they could watch a whole drama unfold like this with mere avid interest. Apparently, the Lord-General's brusque mannerisms were more obscene than the fact that no fewer than three of the people closest to the crown had all tried to kill each other for it.
This part, though... this part was gonna be fun. She moved her eyes to Gaspard, waiting to see what he'd do.
He wasn't half as good at keeping a Graceface as Celene had been. Though she wasn't bothering anymore, either. Two guards stood on either side of her, and her hands were in shackles, but she let a satisfied little smile curl her lip, quite able to read the writing on the wall here, no doubt. Maybe it was some consolation that her rival was going to go down with her.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Lord-General," Gaspard tried, but by this point the crowd was primed for the evidence to be legitimate before it had even been properly presented, and the dissenting murmurs were loud.
Guy rolled his eyes obviously enough that Khari could see it, and gestured Violette forward with one hand. She pulled her prisoner along with her, and the Lord-General glared at him. "Speak."
"Uhâ" The man's accent was very Fereldan. He clearly wasn't in great shape; it looked like a lump was forming on his head where he'd been hit, but they were definitely battle-wounds, not the kind you got when someone was deliberately and methodically inflicting pain. "The Grand Duke, Lords. And Ladies. He, uhâhired m'boss's company. We were hiding out in the gardens, supposed to come in on his signal, y'see. Menace the nobles and the Council till they gave him the crown. Maybe cut a few up if anyone got mouthy."
It seemed to be particularly offensive that the men hired for this were Fereldan. Or maybe that they were mercenaries. It was hard to say which, but given the longstanding rivalry between the two countries, the first seemed a bit more likely.
"While we're arresting people," Guy added, meeting the eyes of another cluster of guards. These ones appeared to answer to him directly. "Arrest him, too." They moved to do it, careful not to bother his wounds too much, but he received no more quarter than Celene, Florianne, or the mercenary did.
"Well, now." Julien took over the narrative from there. And that's what it was, quite apparently: a dramatic narrative, planned in pieces, to keep attention and move events along swiftly and efficiently. No doubt Rilien had had some part in constructing it. Maybe some of the others had, too. The best thing about it was that no part of it was false. "As that seems to invalidate Gaspard's line of succession, I do believe we're back at Judicael's again. Where does that put us, o esteemed peers of the Council?" He folded his hands behind him with the air of someone who knew exactly what the answer to his question was.
Still, for whatever reason, the Council conferred on it for several tense minutes, during which everyone else in the hall waited for the verdict. It was almost possible to feel it, the way the sum total of held breaths and bowstring muscles gave the whole thing the feel of standing on eggshells. Or needles. Like one false move would bring the whole thing crashing down.
Khari was certainly feeling it. She knew the answer had to be the obvious one, but these people were really good at dragging it out. She wondered what the holdup was. Surely everyone had the really important bloodlines memorized, right? She couldn't believe they'd need to consult charts or anything.
âTaking their time, aren't they?" Apparently Cyrus thought the same. She rolled her eyes so he could see, causing a wry lift of half his mouth.
"We are dealing with the lines of succession," Marcy noted, tossing them a glance. "I believe the delay can be forgiven, considering."
âHurry up and wait, so they say,â Zahra lifted her shoulder in a half-shrug and glanced down at her own dress. There was a section near the leg that was torn. Possibly from whatever had happened before, during the heist.
At last, one of the Heralds stepped away from the cluster of them to address the crowd. "Given the invalidation of both Grand Duchess Celene and Grand Duke Gaspard's lines of succession," he said, demoting Celene at the moment he spoke her title, "the Emperor of Orlais is Lucien Drakon."
The tension snapped, and the room exploded in noise. Lots of clamoring, even some shouting; no few people cheered. Others looked scandalized, or shouted questions at the Council, but there was little chance of any of them being heard over the furor.
âHa. Yes!" Given all the noise already filling the room, Khari no longer saw any reason to dampen her enthusiasm. âEat it, you poncy bastards!" She had absolutely no doubt in her mind that this was the right choice, not just for the Inquisition, but for Orlesians. She didn't always think of herself as one of them, but she was, and in this moment, she was pretty damn all right with that.
Rom snorted a laugh next to her, breaking into a full blown grin at her reaction. He didn't offer any taunting words of his own, but he did clap her on the shoulder and squeeze briefly.
Beside them, Mick rolled his eyes at her antics, but regardless smiled and clapped his hands, though for a moment he did lean forward to speak into Marcy's ear. Whatever he said must had been funny, because it caused her to laugh and nod in agreement.
Zahraâs smile couldnât have been wider, until it broke out into a full grin. Teeth bared. She looked as pleased as the rest of them at the results, clapping Khari's shoulder from behind and rocking back on her heels, pleased as kitten doused in milk.
Across the room, Stel gave Lucien a bit of a nudge, and he made his way carefully nearer to the balcony where Celene had once stood, before pausing en route and seeming to change his mind. Instead, he descended the stairs to the ballroom floor, where the majority of the watchers were gathered. Those on the upper level crowded around the banisters. He raised a hand for quiet, which was nearly immediate. No doubt even those that didn't like the news would want to know what he had to say.
"Before I begin," he said, his tone dry, "I would like to ensure that there are no more doors to be kicked down, hostages to be dragged in, or accusations to be shouted across the room?" In the pause, there was scattered laughter, but no such interruptions were forthcoming. Lucien's shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. "Good. Frankly I'm not sure we can handle much more as it is."
His tone sobered to match his expression. "No doubt that was all very fast for you. I know it was for me. I can truthfully say that I did not arrive here tonight planning to leave an Emperor. And I allow for the possibility that, in the course of their trials, either my aunt or my cousins might be found not guilty of the crimes of which they are accused. If such a thing occurs, you have my assurance that I will not contend to keep this title in their places." He paused a moment, pursing his lips. "Nevertheless, it is clear that in the meantime, I will have to assume the mantle in full, because what is upon us now is a disaster in full. Our armies are depleted. Many of our lands lay barren, a result of a war that was by all accounts both short and exceedingly bloody. Our people suffer, and if that were what I had to contend with upon ascension, it would be a tall task."
Folding his hands behind his back, Lucien cast his eyes over the assembled, both in front of and above where he stood. "But that is not the extent of it. An enemy unlike any we have faced before has arrived upon our doorstep. Infiltrated our court, where many of us have doubtlessly believed ourselves safe from unfamiliar dangers." He glanced once at Florianne, but only briefly. "We have been distracted by our own disagreements for too long. One way or another, those have found temporary resolution tonight. I intend to use that time to prepare us to face down Corypheus, who is a danger not just to some of us, but to us all. I hope that as I do so, I can count on your support and your advice, as all new leaders are wise to do." He favored the assembled with a small smile, genuine as ever, then nodded to the guards.
"See to it that they are taken care of, please." As the prisoners were escorted away, Lucien pulled in another breath. "If I may, I think I might call this the most thorough unmasking that has ever occurred at such an event. In that spirit, let us all be known to each other." Reaching up to his own face, he took hold of the edges of his mask in either hand, and lifted it up and away.
The rest of the court followed suit, dropping their arms back to their sides. There was something about itâperhaps just the timing or the eventsâthat made the effect particularly striking. People blinked at each other as though they were looking at their neighbors for the first time, almost, though surely at least some of them were more familiar with each other than that.
Finally, she could get this thing off her face. Khari peeled it away without hesitation, breathing a relieved sigh in the process. Really, if they liked decorating their faces this much, they should just do the logical thing and get tattoos. Wouldn't be so weird to connect them to families, either: that was what at least some Rivaini did, if Rom was anything to go by.
Speaking of... Khari shot him a huge grin. âPretty sure we just made a whole regime change happen." If anyone had asked her about the things she thought she'd be doing at this point in her life... not even she'd have dared to dream as big as toppling a dynasty. Because that was what they'd doneâthey'd usurped the Valmonts, and put someone with the name Drakon back on the Orlesian throne. This was the kind of shit people wrote entire history books about.
Obviously, defeating Corypheus would be like that, too, but they hadn't actually done that part yet.
Ves removed his own mask as he walked past them. He looked a bit more tired than she was used to seeing him, but it was understandable given the unusual work they'd been forced into. He offered both of them a smile. "Not bad for a night's work, little bear."
He disappeared into the crowd of nobles, probably off to regroup with Stel. Rom had his arms crossed, free of his mask now and looking over the crowd as if surveying his handiwork. Their handiwork, since tonight had only been possible through contributions that all of them had made, whether it was picking locks, navigating conversation, or smashing vases over Venatori heads. "It was about as painful as I expected," Rom admitted, probably referring to the night as a whole. "But hey, at least we made it worthwhile."
Both Mick and Marcy had removed their masks, and she now leaned back against him, with his arms wound around her. With their faces bare, they both seemed immensely relieved, and for once relaxed. Even Marcy's expression was soft and gentle, apparently reveling in their success with her husband.
Off to Romulusâs right side, Zahra hefted her mask off and tucked it under her armpit. It seemed as if she already had a destination in mind. Nearly trouncing towards a nearby servant standing off to the side with a tray poised atop his palm. This time, she wouldnât be interrupted. She didnât stop to talk to anyone, only swept up her lace and leaned against the wall beside him. Words were exchanged as the platter was lowered and she began plucking small morsels into her mouth, eyeing him whenever he was foolish enough to pull it away thinking she was done.
With a short, shallow bow to the crowd, Lucien placed his hand over his heart. "Please, stay and partake if you still wish to. And take care on your travels home. Each of you will be needed in the days to come." His address concluded, he once more ascended the stairs, leaving events to resume in his wake.
Rom glanced sideways at Khari. "You hungry? I could go for something to eat right about now."
âStarving." She knocked his elbow with hers, letting her moodâtired, but pretty damn fantastic otherwiseâmanifest itself as playfulness. Close enough, anyway. âLet's go."
Changing the fate of the world had a way of working up an appetite.
They also had a spitting-mad Gaspard in tow, which was bound to make things interesting. Khari wasn't really certain how this was all going to happen, exactly, but she was willing to bet he was going to waste no time accusing Celene of trying to kill him with Venatori, or something else ridiculous. They had the bodies in the hall to prove that the Venatori had been around, but even if Celene was a power-hungry bitch, she really didn't seem like the type to fancy colluding with Corypheus and a nutty Tevinter supremacist cult.
Apparently, thinking about this kind of thing was Khari's life now.
Hopefully the others had their evidence in hand, because there was no way Gaspard was going to wait politely for anyone to make any extra inquiries. She practically had to jog to keep up with him, though the people like Cy and Ves with longer legs were managing a little better. âThis oughta be interesting." She aimed the comment at no one in particular, but she did hear Cyrus snicker. At least someone was having fun.
"Hopefully not too interesting," Vesryn said, having finished catching his breath only a few seconds earlier. "I'm not sure how much more interest this palace can take."
The crowd actively got out of Gaspard's way; though she couldn't see the expression on his face, it was probably murderous or somewhere close. He stomped through the foyer, then into the ballroom, where it looked like the dancing had ceased. The Empress was back up on the upper balcony, and the music had faded to something more subdued, but whatever was going on stopped abruptly when Gaspard raised his voice.
"Celene!" He certainly could make his tone booming. Probably a field-command thing. Almost comically-synchronized, a roomful of nobles and guests turned around to face him. Face them.
Celene, for her part, did not react overmuch. "Dear cousin," she intoned, in a sort of half-friendly, half-condescending way that was hard to pin down exactly. "Whatever has you so upset? We should hate for any of our honored guests toâ"
"Cut the platitudes, Celene. You hired a Bard to kill me, and you failed." Gaspard pointed back towards where Mick and Ves were transporting said Bard. "That's still a crime under the law, and you've lost your right to call yourself anyone's Empress!"
A murmur of surprise passed through the room, like ripples over a pond. Clearly, either the news or the manner in which it was being delivered was quite surprising to the gathered crowd. It had to be the secondâassassinations were pretty normal here, after all.
Rom made a rather quiet approach on Khari's right flank. The attention of the room was pretty firmly situated on Gaspard and Celene, their dispute quite clearly coming to a climax before the eyes of the entirety of Orlais's highest nobility. Rom took in the last arrivals to the scene himself, noting the half of an arrow still lodged in Gaspard's back, and the blood decorating some of the Inquisition's members, Khari included.
"This should be good," he murmured, close enough to her ear for only her to hear, what with the way the room was still murmuring in surprise and confusion. "We got what we need on Celene. Leon handed it off." He took his eyes away from the scene for a moment, inspecting her dress. "They get you anywhere?"
She shook her head, grinning. It was probably weird that she was this glad to have been in a fight just now, but it was about the first time all night she'd felt like a help instead of a hindrance, and the adrenaline was slow to come down. âNah. It's all Venatori blood." She was curious as to what he'd mentioned, though, and returned her attention to the stand-off between Celene and Gaspard.
"Have we now?" Celene remained nonplussed, her hands delicately folded in front of her, the very picture of demure innocence. It almost suited her, which was uncanny considering all they knew about the kind of person she was. Perhaps she was just that good an actress. "We are quite sorry to hear that someone tried to take your life, Grand Duke, but we are unsure why you believe we were responsible for such a thing."
This close, Khari could see Gaspard's jaw flex as he clenched his teeth. "Don't be coy. The assailant is one of Dame Cygne's Bards. You are the one who insisted that only they be allowed inside the Winter Palace this evening!" At that, a few of the more knowledgeable eyes in the room swung to Aurelie herself, who wore a much more neutral expression than either Gaspard or Celene did, almost disinterested.
"Again, dear Gaspard, if that is so, we are sorry to hear it, but we selected entertainment for this evening to ensure delightful music, not your death." Celene seemed a little less sanguine now, almost as though she were growing irritated at his persistence.
"Youâ" Gaspard didn't get very far before he was interrupted.
A throat cleared conspicuously from the right side of the ballroom, where the herald who'd announced the guests held a new piece of parchment aloft. "On this day, 23 Wintermarch of the forty-third year of the Dragon Age, Her Majesty Celene Valmont I does promise the sum of five hundred royals to the organization Le Nichoir, and its proprietor, Lady Aurelie Montblanc, for services to take place on 2 Drakonis of the same year. These services are to include musicianship and entertainment for a fĂȘte at the Winter Palace in Halamshiral, as well as the elimination of Gaspard de Chalons from contention to the crown of Orlais, by whatever means deemed most expedient and appropriate, to be carried out by the agent Wren."
There was quite a resounding silence after that; the herald folded the document back at its creases and returned it to the waiting hand of a tall nobleman with a fox maskâJulien. He smiled, leaning forward against the balcony rail on his side. "You were saying, Your Majesty?" There was no mistaking the satisfaction in his voice.
Khari felt her grin spread over her face. Oh, this was good. âNice." She breathed the word on an exhale, reaching out for Rom's shoulder and squeezing. More jubilant displays of excitement would probably have to wait, so the did her best to contain herself, but if she hopped a little in place, well... no one was looking in this direction anyway.
"Not a bad story, how we got that," Rom said, smiling. "I'll tell you when we're done here."
The Inquisition's condemnation by proxy had an obvious effect on the crowd, too; the muttering increased in volume, and the general tenor of it took on a hostile edge. More than one disdainful look was leveled at the top of the balcony where the Empress stood.
Gaspard, riding the wave of success, took it upon himself to meet eyes with some of the guards. "Arrest herâfor attempted murder and conspiring with the Venatori."
"Actually." This time, the voice that stopped proceedings was quite familiar. Estella stepped free of Lucien and Asala. "I contest the last claim. The Venatori serve Corypheus, not the Empress, and one of his agents was discovered among us tonight." She stood calmly, hands clasped in front of her, and tilted her head at Gaspard. "No doubt this agent wished death upon the both of you, as well as upon His Highness Lucien." She gestured behind her, where Rilien appeared, holding Florianne by the arm.
Her hands had been bound behind her back, and she seemed to have taken a few blows, but she was otherwise unharmed. The way she was dressed must have been the style of those harlequins someone had mentioned earlier in the night. Assassins with the House of Repose, or something like that.
Gaspard's mouth fell open. Clearly, he had not been expecting his own sister to be responsible for sending the Venatori to kill him.
Khari was pretty surprised, too. Florianne hadn't seemed any less suspicious than anyone else, but she wouldn't have picked her to actually be a trained assassin like Aurelie, much less one who worked for Corypheus. âWait... how'd we figure that one out?"
"Offered her bait she couldn't pass up," Rom explained quietly. "Crown Prince and Lady Inquisitor in the same spot, with Rilien and Asala watching over them. Drew her into an attack."
"I suppose that's one way to do it," Ves commented from Khari's other side, keeping his voice low. "Doesn't look like she gave any of them too much trouble."
The Grand Duke now clearly wasn't sure how to feel about things, but he recovered enough to find his voice, at least. "Then arrest them both." He shook his head. "Celene has invalidated her claim to the throne, and in so doing, invalidated her line of succession. There is only one way to answer this." He crossed his arms over his chest, still clearly ignoring his injuries, and leveled a hard stare at a cluster of people in light grey. They were dressed pretty similarly to Philippe, so it must be some kind of official uniform for the Council of Heralds.
They all looked at each other, obviously as surprised by the turn of events as anyone. It was hard to get a read on the crowd overall, though some people were nodding, as if to express agreement with Gaspard's implication. Not too far away, the Costanzas exchanged a more worried glance. After all, if Celene's entire line of succession were invalidated because of what she'd done, then it would return to Judicael I's, and there was no longer anyone in front of Gaspard there.
There was general confusion for a few more moments, and then the grand double doors from the foyer flew open, one of them slamming back against the wall. In strode a very irritated-looking Guillame Drakon, followed somewhat more sedately by Violette, who escorted yet another prisoner in much the same manner as Rilien had kept hold of Florianne.
"Give it a fucking rest, Gaspard, you're just as guilty as them and you damn well know it." The Lord-General was obviously not inclined to mince his words for the sake of politeness. There were even a few scandalized gasps at the crudeness of his language.
Khari snorted, biting down on her knuckle to stifle the cackle that threatened. This had to be that merc Rom's group had captured a couple hours ago. But seriously, if the court found this kind of language offensive, they should hear her talk... ever. It was pretty ridiculous that that bothered them when they could watch a whole drama unfold like this with mere avid interest. Apparently, the Lord-General's brusque mannerisms were more obscene than the fact that no fewer than three of the people closest to the crown had all tried to kill each other for it.
This part, though... this part was gonna be fun. She moved her eyes to Gaspard, waiting to see what he'd do.
He wasn't half as good at keeping a Graceface as Celene had been. Though she wasn't bothering anymore, either. Two guards stood on either side of her, and her hands were in shackles, but she let a satisfied little smile curl her lip, quite able to read the writing on the wall here, no doubt. Maybe it was some consolation that her rival was going to go down with her.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Lord-General," Gaspard tried, but by this point the crowd was primed for the evidence to be legitimate before it had even been properly presented, and the dissenting murmurs were loud.
Guy rolled his eyes obviously enough that Khari could see it, and gestured Violette forward with one hand. She pulled her prisoner along with her, and the Lord-General glared at him. "Speak."
"Uhâ" The man's accent was very Fereldan. He clearly wasn't in great shape; it looked like a lump was forming on his head where he'd been hit, but they were definitely battle-wounds, not the kind you got when someone was deliberately and methodically inflicting pain. "The Grand Duke, Lords. And Ladies. He, uhâhired m'boss's company. We were hiding out in the gardens, supposed to come in on his signal, y'see. Menace the nobles and the Council till they gave him the crown. Maybe cut a few up if anyone got mouthy."
It seemed to be particularly offensive that the men hired for this were Fereldan. Or maybe that they were mercenaries. It was hard to say which, but given the longstanding rivalry between the two countries, the first seemed a bit more likely.
"While we're arresting people," Guy added, meeting the eyes of another cluster of guards. These ones appeared to answer to him directly. "Arrest him, too." They moved to do it, careful not to bother his wounds too much, but he received no more quarter than Celene, Florianne, or the mercenary did.
"Well, now." Julien took over the narrative from there. And that's what it was, quite apparently: a dramatic narrative, planned in pieces, to keep attention and move events along swiftly and efficiently. No doubt Rilien had had some part in constructing it. Maybe some of the others had, too. The best thing about it was that no part of it was false. "As that seems to invalidate Gaspard's line of succession, I do believe we're back at Judicael's again. Where does that put us, o esteemed peers of the Council?" He folded his hands behind him with the air of someone who knew exactly what the answer to his question was.
Still, for whatever reason, the Council conferred on it for several tense minutes, during which everyone else in the hall waited for the verdict. It was almost possible to feel it, the way the sum total of held breaths and bowstring muscles gave the whole thing the feel of standing on eggshells. Or needles. Like one false move would bring the whole thing crashing down.
Khari was certainly feeling it. She knew the answer had to be the obvious one, but these people were really good at dragging it out. She wondered what the holdup was. Surely everyone had the really important bloodlines memorized, right? She couldn't believe they'd need to consult charts or anything.
âTaking their time, aren't they?" Apparently Cyrus thought the same. She rolled her eyes so he could see, causing a wry lift of half his mouth.
"We are dealing with the lines of succession," Marcy noted, tossing them a glance. "I believe the delay can be forgiven, considering."
âHurry up and wait, so they say,â Zahra lifted her shoulder in a half-shrug and glanced down at her own dress. There was a section near the leg that was torn. Possibly from whatever had happened before, during the heist.
At last, one of the Heralds stepped away from the cluster of them to address the crowd. "Given the invalidation of both Grand Duchess Celene and Grand Duke Gaspard's lines of succession," he said, demoting Celene at the moment he spoke her title, "the Emperor of Orlais is Lucien Drakon."
The tension snapped, and the room exploded in noise. Lots of clamoring, even some shouting; no few people cheered. Others looked scandalized, or shouted questions at the Council, but there was little chance of any of them being heard over the furor.
âHa. Yes!" Given all the noise already filling the room, Khari no longer saw any reason to dampen her enthusiasm. âEat it, you poncy bastards!" She had absolutely no doubt in her mind that this was the right choice, not just for the Inquisition, but for Orlesians. She didn't always think of herself as one of them, but she was, and in this moment, she was pretty damn all right with that.
Rom snorted a laugh next to her, breaking into a full blown grin at her reaction. He didn't offer any taunting words of his own, but he did clap her on the shoulder and squeeze briefly.
Beside them, Mick rolled his eyes at her antics, but regardless smiled and clapped his hands, though for a moment he did lean forward to speak into Marcy's ear. Whatever he said must had been funny, because it caused her to laugh and nod in agreement.
Zahraâs smile couldnât have been wider, until it broke out into a full grin. Teeth bared. She looked as pleased as the rest of them at the results, clapping Khari's shoulder from behind and rocking back on her heels, pleased as kitten doused in milk.
Across the room, Stel gave Lucien a bit of a nudge, and he made his way carefully nearer to the balcony where Celene had once stood, before pausing en route and seeming to change his mind. Instead, he descended the stairs to the ballroom floor, where the majority of the watchers were gathered. Those on the upper level crowded around the banisters. He raised a hand for quiet, which was nearly immediate. No doubt even those that didn't like the news would want to know what he had to say.
"Before I begin," he said, his tone dry, "I would like to ensure that there are no more doors to be kicked down, hostages to be dragged in, or accusations to be shouted across the room?" In the pause, there was scattered laughter, but no such interruptions were forthcoming. Lucien's shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. "Good. Frankly I'm not sure we can handle much more as it is."
His tone sobered to match his expression. "No doubt that was all very fast for you. I know it was for me. I can truthfully say that I did not arrive here tonight planning to leave an Emperor. And I allow for the possibility that, in the course of their trials, either my aunt or my cousins might be found not guilty of the crimes of which they are accused. If such a thing occurs, you have my assurance that I will not contend to keep this title in their places." He paused a moment, pursing his lips. "Nevertheless, it is clear that in the meantime, I will have to assume the mantle in full, because what is upon us now is a disaster in full. Our armies are depleted. Many of our lands lay barren, a result of a war that was by all accounts both short and exceedingly bloody. Our people suffer, and if that were what I had to contend with upon ascension, it would be a tall task."
Folding his hands behind his back, Lucien cast his eyes over the assembled, both in front of and above where he stood. "But that is not the extent of it. An enemy unlike any we have faced before has arrived upon our doorstep. Infiltrated our court, where many of us have doubtlessly believed ourselves safe from unfamiliar dangers." He glanced once at Florianne, but only briefly. "We have been distracted by our own disagreements for too long. One way or another, those have found temporary resolution tonight. I intend to use that time to prepare us to face down Corypheus, who is a danger not just to some of us, but to us all. I hope that as I do so, I can count on your support and your advice, as all new leaders are wise to do." He favored the assembled with a small smile, genuine as ever, then nodded to the guards.
"See to it that they are taken care of, please." As the prisoners were escorted away, Lucien pulled in another breath. "If I may, I think I might call this the most thorough unmasking that has ever occurred at such an event. In that spirit, let us all be known to each other." Reaching up to his own face, he took hold of the edges of his mask in either hand, and lifted it up and away.
The rest of the court followed suit, dropping their arms back to their sides. There was something about itâperhaps just the timing or the eventsâthat made the effect particularly striking. People blinked at each other as though they were looking at their neighbors for the first time, almost, though surely at least some of them were more familiar with each other than that.
Finally, she could get this thing off her face. Khari peeled it away without hesitation, breathing a relieved sigh in the process. Really, if they liked decorating their faces this much, they should just do the logical thing and get tattoos. Wouldn't be so weird to connect them to families, either: that was what at least some Rivaini did, if Rom was anything to go by.
Speaking of... Khari shot him a huge grin. âPretty sure we just made a whole regime change happen." If anyone had asked her about the things she thought she'd be doing at this point in her life... not even she'd have dared to dream as big as toppling a dynasty. Because that was what they'd doneâthey'd usurped the Valmonts, and put someone with the name Drakon back on the Orlesian throne. This was the kind of shit people wrote entire history books about.
Obviously, defeating Corypheus would be like that, too, but they hadn't actually done that part yet.
Ves removed his own mask as he walked past them. He looked a bit more tired than she was used to seeing him, but it was understandable given the unusual work they'd been forced into. He offered both of them a smile. "Not bad for a night's work, little bear."
He disappeared into the crowd of nobles, probably off to regroup with Stel. Rom had his arms crossed, free of his mask now and looking over the crowd as if surveying his handiwork. Their handiwork, since tonight had only been possible through contributions that all of them had made, whether it was picking locks, navigating conversation, or smashing vases over Venatori heads. "It was about as painful as I expected," Rom admitted, probably referring to the night as a whole. "But hey, at least we made it worthwhile."
Both Mick and Marcy had removed their masks, and she now leaned back against him, with his arms wound around her. With their faces bare, they both seemed immensely relieved, and for once relaxed. Even Marcy's expression was soft and gentle, apparently reveling in their success with her husband.
Off to Romulusâs right side, Zahra hefted her mask off and tucked it under her armpit. It seemed as if she already had a destination in mind. Nearly trouncing towards a nearby servant standing off to the side with a tray poised atop his palm. This time, she wouldnât be interrupted. She didnât stop to talk to anyone, only swept up her lace and leaned against the wall beside him. Words were exchanged as the platter was lowered and she began plucking small morsels into her mouth, eyeing him whenever he was foolish enough to pull it away thinking she was done.
With a short, shallow bow to the crowd, Lucien placed his hand over his heart. "Please, stay and partake if you still wish to. And take care on your travels home. Each of you will be needed in the days to come." His address concluded, he once more ascended the stairs, leaving events to resume in his wake.
Rom glanced sideways at Khari. "You hungry? I could go for something to eat right about now."
âStarving." She knocked his elbow with hers, letting her moodâtired, but pretty damn fantastic otherwiseâmanifest itself as playfulness. Close enough, anyway. âLet's go."
Changing the fate of the world had a way of working up an appetite.