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There were riots in the Lower Town.

In the falling dusk, Yrien saw the crowd gather at the Merchant's Square by the Silver Gate, shouting and demanding justice for Vidor. The news of Camelot's champion death at the hand of Dark Witch had provoked righteous anger among the commoners, who were still digesting the sudden and unexpected death of King Ryence. King Ryence the Liberator they call him for defeating Cenred's army. King Ryence the Liberator and Uther the Great. Are they good at anything save for coming up with stupid nicknames for the kings?

"UTHER! UTHER! UTHER!" they were chanting.

"They are screaming the late king's name and some are demanding a new purge," Sir Logsheath told her after she had written a letter to Ruadan. "The crowd's growing, your grace, the night's upon us and they'd be lighting torches anytime soon. We risk fires in the Lower Town. You must make his grace give an order. The knights have to step in."

His grace. Rion doesn't understand what is going on, you fool. It could've been Rion, she thought, ready to weep again. The witch just needed to throw another dagger, and I would have lost my second son. It made Yrien more than uneasy to detach great part of her knights and guards, but Sir Logsheath would hear of nothing else.

Perhaps her chief guard was wise. The rumours circulating around the castle, the Lower Town and the Southern Village were a parade of follies striving to outdo each other in their stupidity and wickedness. Some whispered it was Queen Yrien who killed Vidor because she had fallen in love with the young knight before the tourney and couldn't stand the sight of him marrying someone else. People in the village claimed the castle had been captured by warlocks and the queen and the king slain, and that it was their duty to free it off the evil force of magic. In some parts of the Lower Town people were preparing for a dragon attack. Her alliance with five thousand druid swords had not been forged yet and could fall to pieces, much to Vyda Gaheris content.

Logsheath's right. Yrien opened the window, and she thought she could smell Lower Town engulfed in smoke already, although with her head throbbing, it could have easily been the scent of her fraying nerves.

"Do as you must. You have the king's blessing," she agreed. "But the Royal Tower must be guarded as a maiden's cunt."

Even though it didn't stop Uther's ghost from killing Ryence.

Yrien was escorted to Queen Ygraine's chambers, and by the time her maidservants lit her candles in the beige room, dusk had turned into darkness of turmoil. Mobs are still roving, Yrien thought. She could hear them chant Uther's name, and screaming calls for another purge. Well, a little purge wouldn't hurt nobody, Yrien thought. By this old bat will not hear of it.

She knew she had to write a letter to Vyda Gaheris and to explain everything that had just happened. To state that the King and Queen Regent had nothing to do with this malicious act of murdering a brave knight, a tourney champion in the walls of the castle of Camelot. To offer whatever cooperation it might take to track the Dark Witch and hunt it down. She kidnapped Morgana, but couldn't kill. Morgana somehow escaped her clutches or the druids saved her. And that's why this witch strikes again. How many more time will she try to ruin Camelot's throne?

Yes, yes, accuse Dark Witch and tell Vyda it was all Dark Witch's doing. And she will believe me, of course. No. She will think it's my act of revenge. When they send my firstborn son to foster in Daobeth, he escaped and got lost somewhere and likely died in the woods, my poor sweet boy, and Vyda's guards that were escorting him let the boy run away. And now her grandson is murdered under my regency. She will not consider it a coincidence. Still, a letter must be written. I will need to conduct a proper investigation, question all the guests of the feast and the king himself. Might be there will be no wore. Might be druid swords will be of no use. Still, the alliance will serve if Vyda is mad enough to use the western army for revenge.

Yrien fell asleep, feeling helpless. Ryence was right to fear this castle. Yrien buried herself under the woven blanket even though the summer night promised to be warm. She started laughing hysterically when she recalled her brother speak of Vidor after returning from Brechfa. "I've just seen Vidor among the court. He takes after Uther so much he gave me chills. For a moment I thought young Uther was standing there to avenge me." Well, Ryence, Uther did avenge you in the end.

False, everything about the castle seemed false and treacherous. Rion is just a boy. He has great need of me, the realm has great need of me. I must not let this stupid murder upset all the efforts put into tax reform. If Vyda Gaheris and this Pendragon pup join forces... then my reign is at an end. And I will not die alone. I will take this whole bloody castle to my grave. She fell asleep with candles burning, and shouts from the Lower Town were rising to reach the Royal Tower.

***

The morning light was a low candle burning in the faraway sky where doom was looming. Yrien woke up from one of the most terrible sleeps of her night. The recollections of previous evening stormed into her head, and she was racked with helplessness. I need to talk to Sagramore. His daughter could've died, too. It was her betrothal feast.

She crawled out of bed naked and slipped into her morning gown, afraid to look at herself in the mirror: so red were her eyes, so tousled were her hair. Yet she realized the days when she could spend half her morning tending to her looks were over. Mobs, she remembered suddenly and rushed to the window.

The Lower Town outlines were still masked by thinning shadows, yet it was clear the town had suffered no fire. What of fighting? She tasted some water with lemon to make her breath fresh and asked the maids to bring her guard to report on the riots.

Wiry and black haired, Sir Tawton Dindrane appeared in his green cloak and with a sword on his hilt, so broad in the shoulders and so confident in his posture it might appear he was about to ride to the battle field.

"Where's Sir Logsheath?" Yrien asked. "I asked for my chief guard."

"Your grace," Sir Tawton cleared his throat and stepped close. "From this day on, I am your personal guard, according to the royal decree."

He handed her the parchment. Rion's seal. It's genuine. What is happening? Where is Logsheath? Did something happen to him while he was dispersing mobs?

"What is the meaning of this?" Yrien asked carefully. She was alone with Sir Tawton, and she recalled threatening him a couple of days ago. Why does he carry a sword to the Royal Chamber?

"Sir Logsheath has been promoted to the position of the king's personal guard, your grace, after his wise behaviour in the Lower Town this night. The king himself decreed so, and I was appointed your personal guard. To be by your side and to guard you day and night or die trying."

"Where's Rion? Where's my son?" Yrien refused to believe Rion could've done it. Why would he put a Dindrane to guard me? Tawton is the old bat's son. It's Anna's work. It's her ploy. She shoud have died in the Purge.

"Take me to my son's chambers," Yrien commanded, looking for a cloak to cover her morning gown.

"Your son is not in his chambers, your grace," Tawton delivered the first blow with a soft voice.

"What?! Where is he?! At such an early hour?!"

"His majesty hasn't slept this night. He has been in the Lower Town, he went to talk to the crowd."

"What?! WHO LET THIS HAPPEN?!"

"Who can command the king, your grace? He asked for nobody's permission. His presence has helped to avoid the bloodshed. He is now holding his council."

The room walls started spinning in her head. Holding his council? He is sixteen.

"And who is on the council, pray tell?"

"Your grace," the second blow was delivered even in a softer tone, though Tawton's nostrils grew wider. "As for the council. We have recorded... A certain... Flight."

"Flight? What flight? Are people running away from our city because of this silly betrothal feast?!"

"Not people, your grace. Royal Secretary Sagramore and his family. Lady Caelia and Lord Geraint. Gornemants and all the Blanchefleurs."

All. All of them.

"How could you let them all go?!" Yrien gasped. "How?!"

"It was the riot, your grace. Before King Rion appeared in the Lower Town, things had been running rather... harshly. We required more knights than we thought we would and the security of the castle got... weaker."

She could understand Sagramore. She even wanted to laugh when she imagined him rolling on his fat belly out of Camelot, after his daughter's groom was murdered at betrothal feast. Sagramore, Caelia, Geraint... They matter not. Blanchefleurs will hold Ascetir, their claim is strong. Bloody hell, with Gedref uprising and Vyda Gaheris swords to the West, I won't stand losing Ascetir. I won't.

"Is Lady Gedref still in cells?"

"She is, your grace. Lord Ragnell of Balor has chosen to stay."

Magnificent. Of the eleven great houses of Camelot, I have only Dindranes and Lamoraks. And Lord of Balor. Splendid. Midlands must go to war.

Tawton was hurrying after her, and it was clear the famed knight had expected a much more gracious walking from Queen Regent who seemed to be galloping into the council room. Why would I care what he expected of me. I shall rid myself of him soon enough. The castle is full of guards and knights we've brought from Woodspeak, this is a Gingawaine stronghold no matter what Tawton and his old bat of a mother thinks. Uther's guards and knights are all in Brechfa, have been since the war with Cenred, the war my brother won.

Rion was walking around the table where his new council was scattered, with quills, inks and papers all over it. Yrien saw Lady Anna Dindrane, wizened and wrinkled and the corners of her mouth were twitching. She would dare smile at me. Sir Logsheath looked proud of his new seat, and if his expressions could be foretelling the future, he was promised to be the Commander of the Knights the kingdom needed.

"Mother," Rion smiled at her. He looked tired, but happy. "Welcome. I hope you've enjoyed a better sleep than me. My night was troubled by matters in the Lower Town."

"Your grace," Yrien responded with cold politeness. "I assure, I would have lost my sleep as well had I been... properly informed on the events in the Lower Town. You did a brave thing, but leaving a castle..."

"...is natural for a king," Anna Dindrane, joined her wrinkled fingers in a knot. "What other way to shut down all the silly gossips? His majesty king Rion had not been seen in the Lower Town since King Ryence's death, small wonder commoners were talking utter gibberish. King Rion declared himself and addressed the crowd as befits the true ruler."

"I see that you've appointed new Council members?" Yrien walked towards the closest empty seat. How much time have they spent here? "Without your Regent's leave?"

"Leave? Mother, why, we all know Regent's signature is but a formality."

Formality?! Who told him that?! Yrien cleared her throat and felt the gazes of council members pierce her from all the sides of the table.

"Well, of course," she said with a gracious smile. "Yet formality is tradition, tradition leads to law, and law is order. We must not forget it."

"And we shall not forget traditions can be broken from time to time, like when we want to cut the mourning course short," Anna reminded her with a poisonous sweetness to her tone.

You will die, old woman. Once we deal with Vyda Gaheris, I will have you thrown in the moat. We'll see how old fish can swim.

"Will you introduce your Council members to me? Or is it another formality we might skip?"

Yrien's sudden appearance in the council room was like a downpour in a cloudless sunny day. Other member felt uneasy as they remained witnesses to verbal duels between Queen Regent and her son.

"Very well. You know Lady Dindrane well, mother, I assume. She finished second during the elections after Uther's death. I thought that my uncle's decision to leave such a prominent court figure was questionable, so I chose to award her with the seat of the Councilor of Camelot. After all, Lady Dindrane has been in the castle since before Uther's conquest."

"Your grace is too king, by reminding an old woman of her age should be made punishable by law," Anna giggled in an awful flirting manner.

"Sir Logsheath was your guard, and he did an amazing job while leading knights in the Lower Town last night. I had the chance to personally behold his talent of the commander, so he will be our new Commander of the Knights. Sir Leon shall remain our Councilor of War until this southern pretender who claims to be Arthur is smashed. Lord Lamorak's father served as our Councilor of Provision under King Uther's reign, so I decided that his son will serve as splendidly. I offered Lord of Balor the seat of our Councilor of Trade. Balor has a long border with Nemeth and Lord Ragnell is experienced when it comes to the matters of duties and bargains. We can't reach Lord Cynric, but I hope out royal Treasurer is fine and returns to us, so his seat remains vacant. As for our Secretary, I have chosen Gaius."

"Gaius?!"

"After the flight of noble houses, we are short of wise men with experience. Gaius has been in Camelot for longer than Lady Dindrane. He has seen two dragon kings and served Uther faithfully throughout his reign."

"Served as a physician," Yrien pointed.

"Not only. He has been Uther's closest ally in the defense of Camelot from magic. And magic, as we learned last night to our sorrow, is our greatest foe."

Silence fell over the room. Yrien was piercing her son, whose comeback gaze was as intense at the queen's. It seemed their looks could strike a fire. This is not as bad as it could have been. With all these traitors gone, we can't have enough qualified men to rule the realm.

"And what of me?" the queen remembered suddenly. "Is there a place for me on your council?"

"You will go to the castle of Brechfa to rule our homeseat, mother. You're the Lady of Brecha, don't forget. The farther from the Pass of Camlann, the safer you’ll be, and, mother, I do so care about your safety I must see you go to Brechfa, even though it pains me to part with you."