Return of the Stormcriers

CHAPTER 25 - BEFORE THE HIGH COUNCIL

With his nerves bristling with anticipation, Leonardo Bernoulli strode briskly through the halls of the royal palace towards the Council Chambers. While Prince Nathan had officially appointed him as Steward within moments of the High King's assassination, the High Council of Verden had demanded a formal meeting before they would grant him the full scope of power that his new station afforded. He would require the full authority of the throne if he hoped to lead the armies of Verden against the traitors in the east. Within hours of the attack on the palace, several of his most trusted men had begun recruiting bands of mercenaries to quietly grow the size of Verden's forces without alerting the general populace to the coming war. There was no need for panic just yet. With any luck the resistance would also be caught unaware by the sudden growth in their opponent's military.

He wished he could grill Arthur for information about his attempt to kill Prince Nathan, but at this moment his most loyal soldier was lying unconscious in the medical wing of the palace covered in severe burns. Bernoulli had been fortunate to discover the young man's barely breathing body in the secret passageway out of the castle before anyone else stumbled upon the scene of the skirmish. Arthur had been sprawled amongst the very dead bodies of all eleven of his men, and the Prince's guard Helvar; there had been no sign of Nathan or his other guards who had more than likely escaped the attack. He cursed inwardly, if Nathan could trace the attempt on his life back to him it would spell an early end to his rule. He composed his face into the mask of sadness and control that he had worn since the night of the assassination; outwardly, no one was more saddened than he by the passing of High King Castius.

Bernoulli inhaled deeply as he approached the large ornate doors that led into the Grand Chamber of the Council of Verden. The heavy oak planks that made up the structure of the doors were decorated in ornate golden reliefs of soaring dragons breathing gouts of flame. Intricate inlays of sapphire, ruby, and emerald served as eyes for the sculptures, sparkling in contrast with the pure gold of the dragons bodies. He fought to stifle a chuckle, the gaudy decoration encapsulated the character of the council perfectly, six self-aggrandizing, haughty, power hungry, stuffed shirts who cared much more about consolidating their own authority than giving honest council to the High King. While it was true that the High King held complete control over the kingdom, Castius' father Igor had recognized early in his reign that it was impossible to split his attention to every aspect of ruling. The Council was established to keep a closer eye on day to day events throughout Verden and advise the High King on important issues and events facing the kingdom. Decades spent as Castius' personal advisor had done little to ingratiate Bernoulli with the Council. Often his role had placed him in an adversarial position as he forcefully argued his opinions which often ran contrary to their advice. More than one member of the Council had accused Leonardo of being more concerned with growing his own power and influence than he was interested in what was in the best interest of Verden. Or more accurately, Bernoulli thought, what was in the best interest of the council. To his mind they were clearly jealous that even with all the power they had managed to coalesce over the years, his voice was the most trusted in the High King's ear.

"I am here at the request of the High Council," he spoke simply to the two guards stationed just outside the elegant double doors.

"They are expecting you," the man on the left answered in a deep bass voice, opening his side of the door with a mighty shove.

"Chief Advisor Leonardo Bernoulli to see the High Council," the second soldier announced grandly, stepping into the chamber just ahead of Bernoulli.

"It's Steward Leonardo Bernoulli," he hissed to the armored man, softly enough for his words to be heard exclusively by the guard. The man offered a simple nod of apology but notably did not correct his proclamation before stepping into the corner of the room as a silent observer.