Chapter 9. Long Live the Lord

The Great Hall barely contained all the castle servants and workers that had crowded inside. The guardsmen on duty closed the door. They crossed their halberds, barring the way to anyone trying to leave. It made Jules feel trapped. He almost regretted leaving Evionel alone in the infirmary. Here, more people cast him suspicious glances, but no one dared to throw insults or accusations - not while Jules kept close to his master, making sure the crowd wouldn't separate them.

Sir Kedmon and Arthur sat by the table on the dais, facing the murmuring crowd. The castle residents pressed against each other at the base of the dais, trying to get as far as possible from the broken windows. Other servants, ones that came from Stone Town had been escorted straight to the Hall the moment they crossed the gate of the castle. Now, they pushed onto their fellow workers as the guardsmen urged them further into the chamber.

"Is everyone here?" Captain Rogre elbowed his way through the crowd, moving from the chief cook to the head of the servants, counting the stablemen and gardeners. "You should have four more, shouldn't you?"

"What's going on?" somebody asked with fright.

No one answered.

The door opened and Jules looked around at it - two guards marched in, leading a bunch of people, some sobbing, many only half-dressed. Among them, the boy recognised the infirmary patients. The elderly man still limped, his foot leaving a bloody trait on the floor. One of the maidens steading him, her own legs weak under her and blood clotting on her forehead. Evionel walked by a milk-pale girl - the one she had been putting stitches on- and was bandaging the wound on her arm as they marched.

"What's the meaning of this?" Ravin stopped the guardsmen, who only gawped uncertainly. The hunter took the white-faced girl by the arm and helped her sit by the nearest table.

"Thank you, master Blake," the apprentice healeress gave him a weak smile. "Aunt Lara didn't come to the infirmary, and then the guards came and told us to go with them."

"She's still with Lady Guinevere," Jules offered Evionel his hunting knife. She thanked him quietly and used it to cut the bandage. "I'm sorry, I should have stayed with you. I shouldn't have left."

"There wasn't much you could have done."

"Silence!" Captain Rogre roared.

The Great Hall quietened as sir Kedmon stood up and went around the table to face the crowd below the dais.

"I gathered you here to make an announcement," His voice echoed between the walls.

Jules stood on his toes, but people before him prevented his view. Ravin touched his shoulder, and when the boy looked up at him, the man led him to the front of the crowd.

"My father, Lord Harald, is dead," Kedmon said. People murmured and he raised his hand to quieten them. His face, grey and sombre, was tight like a mask.

Then, with a gust of a gentle wind, a misty shape appeared right behind his shoulder. The haze took the form of a teenage girl with a cascade of golden hair falling down onto her back and framing her willowy body. She stood by Arthur, blue-eyed and tall like him, watching. Jules tugged at Ravin's sleeve and gestured toward her.

"Do you see her?"

The hunter gave a small nod.

"Just some mist," he whispered, his lips barely moving.

"I am the new Lord of Arvene," sir Kedmon said in a firm voice. "The death of my father will be kept secret for now. Whoever spreads the news, no matter if they are old or young, or how long they have been serving my family, will be considered traitors."

"Who is she?" Jules asked quietly.

The ghost girl turned her head. Their looks met. She opened her eyes wide, in an expression of astonishment, and then she disappeared.

"And traitors," the new Lord continued. "Pay with their heads."

After his words, a heavy silence fell on the crowd. People stood, exchanging unsure glances, waiting. Looking around, Jules could see fear and disbelief plastered on their faces.

Captain Rogre cleared his throat loudly and everybody turned towards him.

"Long live Lord Kedmon!" he initiated.

Some people followed him half-heartedly, but most of them just stood in silence. Lord Kedmon clenched his jaw and glared down at them; then he turned on his heels, motioned at his son to follow him and they left the Great Hall through a side door.

"What was that about?" Jules crossed his arms on his chest. "Why does he want to keep his father's death secret?"

"I have no idea," the hunter raised his eyebrows as he saw Captain Rogre pushing through the crowd that swam to the door. "John?"

"I need to talk to you," the man waited for the servants to move out of earshot. "What do you think of this? I didn't expect that of Kedmon."

"Secrets will only make it worse," Ravin shook his head disapprovingly. "I hope Norrison is up. I need to talk to him."

"Well, about him..." the Captain scratched his ginger beard. "He cut his veins when it all happened. He bled to death before my people found him."

"John, Norrison was clearly mixed up with something concerning the ghost," The hunter pinched the bridge of his nose. "Watch your men. If anyone behaves strangely tell me before they're desperate enough to take their own life."

"I don't understand what's going on, but you can depend on me," Captain Rogre put his fist to his chest in a soldierly gesture. "My men and I are on your disposal."

"I need records of all recent deaths. Including executions. Send it to my room."

They shook their hands before the Captain left.

The Great Hall was empty but for dead ravens lying under broken windows. The hunter took a deep breath and raised his hands to massage his temples. Jules watched him silently; his master's expression showed frustration just for a second before it got strict and professional again.

"Jules, Kedmon had a daughter. Her name was Rosalie," he walked toward the door. "He was at the capitol when she got ill. When he returned, she was already dead."

"Mistress Lara couldn't heal her?" Jules followed him.

"She didn't work here, then. She arrived here just a few days before us," the hunter explained. "Lord Harald didn't tolerate mages at his fief. When Rosalie's condition worsened, her mother hired a wandering healer, but it was too late. The girl died."

"You think the ghost is Rosalie," Jules understood. "Do you want me to find her?"

"She'll probably talk to someone her age rather than to me," Ravin gave a nod. "Our ghost first haunted the Lord a few days after Rosalie died. It may be a coincidence, but maybe it's not."

"You think they're connected?" Jules scratched the back of his neck. "Or, at least, ghosts can know each other. I mean, they haunt the same castle, don't they?"

"Her room is next to Arthur's," the hunter opened the door for him. "I'll check the records, maybe I'll find something there."

The corridor at the top floor was empty, so Jules sneaked into the chamber and closed the door slowly and soundlessly. He scanned the room. White with pink accents, it was stuffy and smelt of stale flowers. No shards of glass were strewed upon the floor. The window panes were untouched - not even a scratch blemished the delicate stain-glass ornaments.

"Rosalie?" he whispered, his lips barely moving.

On the coffee table, a bunch of white, withered roses rested in a golden vase; the petals, scattered all around, were dry and wrinkled. The bed wasn't made. The dust settled on a crumpled duvet and a stack of pillows. A porcelain doll lay face down on a bedspread.

He felt her eyes on him - his arms covered in goose bumps - but he saw no one. Her aura lingered in the chamber, a smell of flowers and sun. He knew she observed him, but didn't wish to be seen. He looked around the room once again, this time closing the brown eye - and now he noticed a cloud of thin mist swirling around, dancing across the chamber.

"I know you're there," he reached for the porcelain doll. It must have been a treasured belonging, one she used a lot, and her aura should have stuck to it strongly enough to help him see her.

He stopped short when a gentle gust of wind stirred the rose petals on the table. She appeared just before him - a beautiful girl with a tired, sad face - and extended her hand to touch the doll.

"You're the hunter boy," her golden hair waved despite the lack of wind. "I've been curious if what my brother says about you is true. But I don't feel anything dark around you, not like around her..."

"Her?" Jules watched as she stroked the doll's lock, her fingers penetrating through it. "You know the other ghost? The one that haunts your family? The young woman, the -"

"Stop!" she turned toward him abruptly, an expression of terror blurring her face into swirling mist until she composed her features. "I can't talk about her! She'll know!"

She sank to the floor and brought her knees up to her chest. The white dress swathed her body like a coat of first snow.

"Rosalie, I get it if you're scared," Jules sat on the floor beside her, leaning back against the side of her bed. "I saw what she did to your grandfather. I know -"

"I stayed to protect them, but I couldn't help him," the ghost girl whispered. "I tried to talk to him, but he wouldn't listen to me, only to her. Maybe it's because of what he'd done to her... I couldn't get through to him."

"What had he done? Can you tell me?"

"She was a good person." the girl rested her chin on the top of her knees. Her body flickered, the ends of her limbs turning into mist, her emotions so strong she lost the focus on her shape. "But then, she died a terrible death, and now there's nothing but hatred left in her."

"But Rosalie, what did your grandfather -" Jules stopped short when he heard a sudden crack. The door handle lowered, pushed by someone standing in the corridor.

Rosalie vanished. The door opened to reveal her older brother, who now glared at Jules from the threshold.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Arthur slammed the door shut. "How dare you poke about at my late sister's room?!"

"Listen, I'm not looking for trouble," Jules scrambled as the blonde boy approached. "My master sent me. I just needed to talk to your sister, but I've been just leaving."

Jules walked toward the door, but the young Arver blocked his way.

"I don't care a damn who sent you here," he stepped dangerously close toward Jules. "My sister rests in peace. She doesn't haunt the castle!"

"She hasn't left-"

"Shut up!" Arthur gave him a push and Jules hit the coffee table. The vase with flowers crashed against the floor. "Look what you've done!"

"What I have done? It's not my fault Rosalie stayed here!"

"I don't care!" Arthur barked at him. As he spoke, his face turned red, and his clenched fists were shaking. For a second Jules thought the other boy would punch him. "If you're lying, I'll make your life a living hell!"

"And if I'm not?" Jules held his gaze. "Your family is in danger. You can't deny it."

"And you think we'll put our lives in your hands?" Arthur spat on the floor by Jules' feet. "Grandfather was right about you, mages. You should all burn on stakes!"

"We're here on your father's invitation," Jules reminded coldly. His eyes burned with anger, and golden sparkles crossed his irises like bolts of flashes of lightning.

When their eyes met, Arthur grimaced with disgust.

"Yet you let my grandfather die," he stabbed Jules' chest with his pointing finger. "I don't know what my father is thinking, hiring you mages after that damned healeress killed our Rosie! But once he sees his mistake, you'll all be banished!"

"She didn't!" Rosalie appeared by her brother, yelling into his ear. "She tried to save me! Grandpa was mistaken!"

Jules pursed his lips so hard they became a while line on his reddened face. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through his nose.

"I don't care what you think. I'm doing my job. Stay out of my way," he held Arthur's gaze. "By the way, your sister says the healeress was innocent, so stop talking ill about her."

Arthur's eyes flared up. He reached out to punch him, but Jules ducked under his hand and gave him a push that knocked him off balance. The young Arver fell onto the vase's shard. Running away, Jules heard him cursing badly under his breath.

He rounded the corner and almost collided with Lord Kedmon, who had just climbed the stairs.

"What are you doing here, boy?" the man frowned down at him and Jules stepped back, looking around. Rosalie's door stayed closed. Arthur didn't show himself.

"Just delivering a message, sir... to Mistress Lara," he tried to hide his growing nervousness. "My master is waiting for me if you'll excuse me, sir."

Lord Kedmon gave him a slow nod, still looking at him closely, and stepped aside. Jules muttered a quiet thanks and ran past him straight to the room he shared with Ravin.