Discordant Note: Crescendo | TBATE

Chapter 211: Greyscale

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Grey

"We need to form some sort of response," said a pudgy man with an intricate mustache, his fingers tapping in a rhythm on the council table. "We have their ambassador hostage, but we can't push too far."

"And how, exactly, do you think we should respond?" a thin man with heavily decorated epaulets said, his hawklike nose twitching as he stared at the first councilman. "There isn't much we can do to Trayden, not with their trade embargos along the Mississippi. Any sort of retaliation can lead to conflict and lives lost, Councilman Breeze."

The aforementioned pudgy man–one of the most powerful people in Etharia–snorted in derision. "We all want to avoid a war, Councilman Stint," he said with distaste. "But the conditions of our treaty and agreements were clear. This ambassador tried to abduct one of the participants in our King's Crown Tournament–and if we let that slide for fear of retaliation, then we're nothing but cowards who dig our heads into the sand."

The heated discussion continued on as the Council of Etharia flailed back and forth, each member trying to come up with a response to Trayden's breach of our alliance. Yet the words flowed in one ear and out the other as I watched, a numb sort of emptiness clutching at my gut as I watched the men squabble.

It hadn't even been a week since I'd "claimed" my victory at the King's Crown Tournament. My ascension to King–my one goal for the past several years–had been accomplished. Here I stood, ready to take action. I had the power I'd always strived for. The position, the resources, the prestige...

And when I looked down at my trembling hands, all I could see was red. Cecilia's blood–the blood of one of my closest friends–couldn't seem to wash away. The image of her head lolled in a sickening matter within my mind on an infinite loop whenever I closed my eyes, Nico's distraught face as I ran his fiance through the chest burned into my retinas. I hadn't slept in several days, because whenever I allowed myself to dream, I dreamt of the mistakes I'd made. The future I'd ruined.

Whenever I closed my eyes, I imagined myself taking Nico's offer–from before my final match with Cecilia in the tournament. Before she'd committed suicide using my own sword. I imagined myself taking his hand–dismissing Lady Vera and helping him with his plan. What would have changed if I did so?

The entire reason I'd sought kingship was so I could wreak vengeance on those who had caused Headmaster Wilbeck's death. But I'd slain one of my closest friends. How... How did I continue? What did I do–

"King Grey," a voice cut through my spiraling thoughts, "what exactly can you tell us about the ambassador, boy? You were her apprentice, after all. She used you to infiltrate the King's Crown Tournament to seek the Legacy. You should enlighten us on what could make her crack."

I blinked rapidly, feeling the attention of all the Council on me as Councilman Stint singled me out. Their eyes flashed in an almost malevolent manner, wicked gleams like candlelight flaring all around.

I swallowed, feeling small. My very first session as a member of the Council proceeded far differently from what I expected. I didn't want to be here. I wanted... What did I want? The Councilmembers looked at me like hyenas that had found waiting prey.

"I don't–" I started, feeling wrongfooted.

"Bah, don't ask the boy such questions," another man interrupted with a sneer. "He's barely been functional after he won the tournament–which we still know was by a fluke. He shouldn't be here in the first place."

I gnashed my teeth, feeling anger rise at the dismissive nature of the words. I restrained the urge to slam my fist into the table.

"If my words aren't needed," I said, feeling my hands clench at my side, "then I don't see a reason to stay in attendance."