Willem looked at Stephen. “Everyone here?” he asked. “Even the undesirables?”

  “Ah…” Stephen scratched the back of his neck. “Yes. Everyone is here.”

  “Wonderful.” He patted the man’s shoulder, then walked over to a nearby window. He produced a glowing gemstone, and perched it beside the glass. “Shall we begin with the welcoming speech, then? You lead, naturally.”

  “Of course,” Stephen said, smiling. He eyed the gemstone peculiarly, but elected not to touch it.

  Willem and Stephen walked to the point where the spiral staircases converged upon the second floor, overlooking the vast amount of guests.

  “Everyone!” Stephen called out. “If I could just get your attention, please! Gather round…. Gather round. Take your time—we’re all friends here. Or at least… part of the same society, isn’t that right?” He began his speech amiably.

  Viviene, Anne Claire, Catharina… Willem spotted them easily enough. Going off Petronella’s description, he looked around for Arend and Dorothea, but didn’t succeed in locating them. He spotted Gustav, and waved at the man politely. The guildmaster already looked uneasy in the room, but gave a faint nod back at Willem.

  “So… I’d just like to start by thanking my lovely wife, Marie, for all of the effort that she’s put into hosting this event today,” Stephen began. “As the second monthly meeting of the Society of Assured Prosperity, it’s my hope that this event can be every bit as grand as the first. There’s a lot of road ahead for all of us merchants and all of our families.”

  A large man stepped into the crowd, wearing a humble gray doublet. Willem spotted him at once, and smiled when he saw him. Arend Rook stared up at him fearlessly, quickly moving to the center of the room.

  “If I could have all of your attention,” Arend’s powerful voice split the crowd. “There’s something that I’d like to say.”

  Everyone in the grand hall turned to look at Arend as he stared up at Willem. He raised a finger upward and pointed straight at him. When he opened his mouth…

  A great rumble disturbed the mansion, and all of the lights throughout the entire estate flickered. Everyone looked around uneasily, and even Arend was brought pause. The only one smiling amidst all of this was Willem, who met Arend’s gaze easily. A few moments later, the sound of marching could be heard.

  The double-doors leading into the great hall burst open, and a retinue of knights in black and gold armor marched in. The man at the front was garbed in black robes hemmed by cloth-of-gold. He bore a golden raven on his chest and on his shoulder patch. The tremendous staff that he carried was also crested by a golden raven. His hair was white as snow, but he looked only about middle-aged. He had countless scars across his face, and plenty on his hands.

  The man slammed his staff down, and an invisible pressure fell upon everyone. Willem could feel it, too—it made him shiver a little.

  “I am Archmagistrate Galahad, here under orders of His Majesty the King,” this new arrival said. “Under the authority of the King and his Cabinet, this estate has been temporarily sealed until my investigation can conclude.”

  Widespread unease set in throughout the whole of the gathering.

  “Anyone that attempts to leave will be assumed guilty of the investigated crime. Due to its severity, they will be summarily executed by me or my men.” As Galahad looked around after this declaration, shocked murmurs instantly filled the hall. “The owner of this estate will identify themselves, and offer full cooperation immediately.”

  “T-that’s me, archmagistrate!” Stephen, in a panic, ran down the stairs as fast as he could. “What is this? What’s going on? What crime is being investigated?”

  “Treason,” Galahad replied. “In particular, one of the many schemes of Avaria that attempt to undermine the authority of His Majesty. Rest assured… the innocent have nothing to fear. We’re here to protect you, ladies and gentlemen.” Galahad looked back. “Troops, move out! Secure all rooms and exits.”

  Willem slowly walked down the stairs. Waiting for him at the bottom was Viviene, who looked understandably uneased.

  “Do you know what’s going on?” she asked. “What is this, son?”

  “Man was pretty clear and concise,” Willem replied, looking at Galahad. “We’ve got some agents of Avaria among us.”

  Viviene seemed at a loss for words. Willem tapped her shoulder as he walked past and moved to the archmagistrate.

  “Thank you for coming,” Willem greeted, offering his hand. “It’s an understandably serious matter. I’m Willem.”

  Galahad looked at him. “Willem van Brugh?”

  “I don’t consider myself a Brugh, but yes,” he said easily. “I’m the one that sent the letter.”

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  Most present looked at him with a tremendous degree of surprise. Arend, who’d been so gung-ho before, was shocked into silence. Viviene looked worried and off-balance. Anne Claire and Catharina were simply concerned, especially for Willem.

  “Provided you can verify what you wrote in your letter under a lie-detecting test, the king’s amnesty is assured,” Galahad said quietly, so no others could hear. “For now, please ensure that people remain calm and orderly as we establish ourself throughout the estate.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Willem smiled.

  ***

  When Petronalla had felt the approaching presence of an incredibly powerful mage, her first thought had been that they were here for her. She’d known immediately that whoever was arriving wasn’t someone that was sent for small things—they were the best of the best, meant to weed out powerful monsters. And when she’d saw him…

  Galahad. The King’s Dog, the Pale Death. He was the one that had been responsible for some of the biggest purges of Avarian espionage efforts in the history of espionage efforts. He was one of the strongest people in the kingdom—the world, even. And he was here, in Gent.

  But Galahad hadn’t gone to her church, or to her. Instead, he’d walked right by her… and into the estate where Willem was hosting his party. Things clicked into place, then—the final pieces of a confusing puzzle making sense.

  Willem had told her to arrive late to protect her. This was his plan, his idea to bring Galahad here. There wasn’t a shadow of doubt in her mind that everything she had going in Gent was ruined. The King’s Dog would find her people like a bone buried in the yard, tear them up, and toss them out. If Viviene had been capable of noticing, it’d be child’s play for someone like Galahad.

  But… Willem had still protected her.

  He just as easily could’ve had her within that hall. She practically invited herself to walk into that trap, and he’d gone out of his way to ensure that she’d stayed out.

  Why?

  Willem had seen her form. He knew what she was—a foul beast, a monster. But rather than catch her up in this trap that he’d laid, he elected to keep her away, keep her safe. Perhaps it was out of debt for the service that she’d done him. She almost hoped that it was something more. Friendship, perhaps, or the hope of it.

  Regardless… she wouldn’t waste this opportunity to get out of here, before things blew up.

  ***

  When Willem was finally freed up, he was immediately approached by all of the old Willem’s family.

  “Willem—what in the world is going on?” Anne Claire, the most forceful, demanded of him. “Why is Galahad here? What did you do?”

  “You owe us answers,” Viviene said. “You don’t think to breathe a word of this to me, to all of us?”

  “Don’t worry. This here? It’s just a government bailout,” Willem said, pointing with his thumb. “Happens to all rich people whenever they have problems beyond their control.”

  Everyone stared at him blankly, and Willem sighed.

  “I told you that I fought another way,” Willem pointed out. “Didn’t want you to trouble yourself on my behalf. For instance… putting yourself at risk.” He looked at Viviene pointedly.

  Viviene crossed her arms uncomfortably, while Anne Claire noted, “You knew something about this?”

  “Look, I was going to hire a regular lie-detecting mage to snuff out Arend’s plans in their infancy. But… they were expensive.” He gestured. “This man? He’s doing this for free. It’s his job. All that I did was get a good deal.”

  Before Willem could give further explanation, he heard the clacking of Galahad’s staff as the man approached. He was only a little bit shorter than Willem, but he looked up at him with eyes of white that looked like the purest ice.

  “We’ll begin your interrogation now,” Galahad said.

  “Suits me fine,” Willem said with a faint smile.

  “Follow me,” the archmagistrate said, gesturing elsewhere.

  The two of them walked through the great hall side by side, drawing the gazes and gossip of all invited. Willem had weighed the pros and cons between having a duel and having the archmagistrate burst in, and judged that the former would be a lot more troubling to deal with, reputation wise. People would be understanding of the archmagistrate’s investigation, but allowing a duel to break out? Not desirable, to say the least.

  “I spoke to your sister, Suzanne,” Galahad said. “She’s been in the capital with your uncle.”

  “Yeah?” Willem said, disinterested.

  “She asked me to castrate you as revenge for making Tielman remember that she existed,” Galahad said, looking over.

  “Tielman’s already talked to Suzanne?” Willem put his hands in his pockets. “I can’t exactly stop you if you’re intent on the gelding. Hope you’re gentle, at least.”

  Galahad chuckled—his laugh had a certain grim quality to it. “You’re calm. Are you so confident that your crimes are something the king is willing to provide amnesty for?”

  “Hey, it’s easy to live calmly when you’re innocent,” Willem admitted, but then tapped his forehead. “But if you’re talking about Suzanne’s request… seems like you’d sooner take this head up here than waste your time with something like that.”

  “I do value efficiency,” he admitted. “That’s why I hope we can get to the bottom of things quickly.”

  “Why’s Suzanne talking to you, anyhow?” Willem asked, a mite concerned she’d poisoned this man against him.

  “She hasn’t told you?” Galahad looked over. “Not my place, then.”

  They stopped at where two knights stood side-by-side, securing a gray rectangle that stood boldly—a pillar of light, suspended by nothing in particular.

  “What’s this?” Willem asked.

  “A portal to a specialized interrogation chamber the king maintains at my request,” Galahad answered. “I call it the Iron Stomach. Step inside.”

  “The Iron Stomach…” Willem nodded. “Right. Well, shall we?”

  Willem walked through without so much as a stutter step.