Collaterals

We Do Not Have Time.

Khaled had taken all of two steps into the Prince's reception when the muffled chatter overwhelmed him. He looked over the room, gritting his teeth as he glanced at Advisor Nabil, who locked eyes with him instantly. And so four Advisors and a Young Lord slithered out of the room, into an adjacent one: well lit, and, more importantly, empty. Khaled moved to look out the windows, down to the corner of the courtyard this room overlooked, and waited until he heard the door click shut.

Then, he turned, "What has happened?"

Advisor Nabil was first to speak, eyes sliding slyly, almost cheekily, to the side so that he observed his colleagues before he moved forward, "We each received a letter today. Hand delivered, what? A mere hour after dawn?" He set a hand on the back of a couch, giving Khaled a pointed look, "If I may?"

Khaled nodded, and the Advisor sat. 

"We gathered in His Royal Highness's Personal Study. That is, all six of us—."

"No," Advisor Umran said.  He moved to pour himself a cup of water. "I was in my quarters when you all gathered. Mixing the Prince his herbs."

"Oh. Oh, yes, then," Advisor Nabil's brows creased as he thought back, "But we didn't truly begin any sort of discussion until you came and even then—."

Advisor Hafiz sighed, "Goodness, it does not matter who came first or last." He looked to Khaled, now, hands fisted over the back of a couch, "The Prince had been up all night. He looked over the evidence we've compiled. Added that to different whispers he hears. The sources he has in the taverns and all that—."

"Ahh. Yes. "Sources" is what we call them now," Advisor Umran scoffed. He looked to Khaled. "I remember just mere months ago when the Young Prince had not been allowed to remain in the council room."

Khaled pursed his lips together but gave no comment, looking again to the Advisor to Defense. "You said he looked over the evidence? He was allowed into the Council Chambers, then?"

Advisor Hafiz's mouth opened, closed. Then he shrugged, looking to the side. "I am unsure who let him in. How the papers ended up with him. They were with his Royal Highness when I arrived."

"I can only assume the fault lay with one of the guards," Advisor Mostafa finally spoke, only his eyes remained pinned on the ground as he paced, in place, from on foot to the other. 

Khaled frowned as he looked to the man. He had an air of anxiety, one that electrified the area around him, and made it hard to believe he was father's successor on the council. Still, Khaled moved to sit, motioning them to follow. He had his own thoughts on Advisor Hafiz's men, on Advisor Hafiz's very leadership. "The guards have plenty on their hands. What with them ensuring the palace remain on lockdown."

"It is imperative it remain so until we find out who let those bastards into the halls—."

"It would have been a guard," Khaled looked to Advisor Hafiz, now, as he leaned forward, settled his elbows onto his knees and clutched his hands together. They still shake, sometimes, when someone mentions that wretched night. He could hide that little detail— the tremble that snuck past his mental defenses— but he could do little to hide just how quickly the words tumbled out his mouth,  "Are they not in charge of checking invitations? Of maintaining safety and order?!"

"I cannot falsely accuse my men merely because they are the easiest to blame!"

"They are the most reasonable to blame!" Khaled shouted.

"Even still," The Advisor clutched the couch's armrest as he looked aside, grinding his teeth together, "We must keep the guests here until we have our culprit, and until we have a clear notion of who is—!"