Alric did not answer at once, letting the hush envelop the gilded hall and its crimson-clad residents.

  “I saw the Crag take hold and corrode the minds of my men,” he said.

  “Silence so oppressive that sound died an arm’s length from its maker. Darkness deep enough to swallow moonlight whole.”

  The Emperor leaned forward, hands clasped.

  “Continue.”

  Alric kept his gaze on the throne.

  “We entered after I addressed the legions. Soon after, silence set in, thick as the fog surrounding us. Then reality began to fray at the edges. Flames burned as though trapped in glass and time lost its meaning.”

  “Then one of my officers spotted something on the trees. What appeared as leaves, were innumerable crows hanging motionless from the boughs like waxen dolls, their heads inverted, staring at the passing column.”

  A murmur rippled through the Seneschals, some casting their eyes on Alric as though uncertain of his words.

  “With every pace we took, the men’s minds began to slip, so to preserve sanity, I ordered them to sing a chant under the counsel of High Castellan Lariante. This did alleviate the symptoms, but not much, as the more inward we went, the more I could hear them speak in foreign tongues never heard before.”

  “But something caught my eye. A single white crow hung in their midst with its head upright that vanished after it blinked once.”

  “What did you do?” The Emperor asked.

  “I gave orders to my barely conscious officers and pursued it on horseback to the place it had shown me.”

  “You abandoned your men in cursed territory to pursue a bird?” Durell interjected, voice syruped with feigned astonishment.

  Alric’s eyes cut to him, silver and cold.

  “The white crow was the only anomaly in a sea of ever-shifting mist and madness, Lord Seneschal Durell. In a place where deception is truth, and truth is an illusion, the one thing that stands apart is worth following.”

  He turned back to the Emperor.

  “The road I took was of my own accord until I reached a cleft in the path. Then my horse began moving on its own, as though it too had succumbed to the Crag’s influence and was following its will.”

  “Where did it lead you?”

  Alric noticed how the Emperor posed his questions as though guiding him along instead of probing for information.

  He said nothing of it and continued.

  “To a clearing where at its center lay an ancient tree, its roots braided and coiled around a pond beneath it. The white crow perched on one of its boughs with its eyes closed, ringed by the black.”

  “My mount would go no further, so I dismounted and approached the water’s edge. There I saw visions upon its reflections.”

  Caellis shifted in his seat slightly and spoke.

  “What did they show you, Lord Commander?”

  Alric turned to him.

  “What it thought I longed for, and when I rejected them, the curse’s hold was broken.”

  Caellis’ fingers drummed once against the table.

  “Lord Commander, that does not answer the question—”

  Before he could finish, the Emperor raised his hand.

  “Seneschal, you might not know this, as it happened decades ago, but I too crossed the Crag with an army in one of my expeditions. Its visions are not for interrogation. They are too individual to be of any use in this assembly.”

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  Caellis clenched his jaw a fraction and bowed his head, retreating into his seat once more.

  The Emperor turned to Alric.

  “Continue.”

  “After the curse was broken, I returned to the column. The men stirred awake, their eyes regaining focus. Speech returned soon after and we resumed the march.”

  He paused.

  “We encamped one night within the Crag. By what seemed late morning, we found the road out. As for how, I cannot say. We simply marched forward and the exit revealed itself as though spitting us out. Maps were useless and no landmarks existed to aid us in navigation. We walked until the trees were no more.”

  The Emperor cupped his chin and spoke.

  “Where did it ‘spit’ you out?”

  Alric adjusted himself on the chair and answered.

  “The flooded lowlands east of the Great River. But the distance made no sense, Your Majesty.”

  The Emperor’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Explain.”

  “To reach the Hollow crag, we marched four days from Khal-Drathir, which would put us at around a month’s journey from Valekyr proper. But when we emerged, we were only two weeks’ distance from the city.”

  A ripple flowed through the crescent once more, stupor marking their faces.

  Vaudrel leaned forward, placing his forearms upon the table and clasping his hands.

  “That would certaintly explain your speedy return, Lord Commander. But what about the woman? What signs of hex-contamination did she exhibit to convince you to spare her?”

  Alric steadied his gaze on the aged Seneschal and replied evenly.

  “Her eyes moved in patterns no living being could produce. She spoke my name though I had never given it, nor had it been spoken in her presence. Her demeanor inverted entirely: from hatred to reverence. It made no sense unless viewed as hex-induced breakage.”

  Alric drew breath before continuing.

  “But she came to when the curse broke, and has shown no apparent sign of possession or contamination since.”

  One of the officials spoke from the crescent’s edge, voice sharp.

  “If she shows no signs of possession, why preserve her at all?”

  Alric turned to face him and saw a young Seneschal eager to prove himself useful to the court.

  “Because although absent on the surface, hex-contamination can remain latent and thus, requires supervision. Either by me, the one who found her, or the Imperial Thaumaturgical Division.”

  The young Seneschal persisted, tone seeking for an opening to exploit.

  “And if she shows contamination again? Should we risk the capital for one witness?”

  Alric remained calm.

  “No. She will accompany me wherever I’m assigned next. The capital will be safe then.”

  The young official opened his mouth to answer, but Vaudrel raised his hand slightly, and he yielded immediately.

  “Lord Commander, if I may, you are to receive judgement on this matter, not pronounce it. Please, know that this decision lies on the shoulders of His Majesty the Emperor alone.”

  Alric’s eyes regarded him for a second before going to the Emperor’s.

  “Indeed, Lord Seneschal Vaudrel. It is as you say, and I will abide by it.”

  Silence followed. The scratching of the quill stopped, letting ink dry.

  The chamber held its breath, the light stilling before the Emperor’s words, as though even it waited for his proclamation.

  At last, he spoke.

  “The Lord Commnader’s request is justified.”

  The decree came as steel to porcelain.

  “Section IX, Subsection IV of the Field Command Discretionary Powers Act grants a Lord of War authority to preserve witnesses to unknown sorcery for imperial examination. The Lord Commander acted within those parameters in full.”

  He paused, letting the words settle like ash on soil.

  “Furthermore,” he continued, “only five men in this Empire’s history have led an army through the Hollow Crag, and emerged intact. I am one of them. Lord Vaelgard is another.”

  Vuadrel’s jaw tightened, barely visible behind his mask of courtly composure.

  “If anyone in this land is qualified to supervise a hex-stained prisoner, it is he.”

  A breath.

  “The woman will remain under his watch. She will accompany him when he departs the capital. This will remove any threats to Valekyr’s sanctity.”

  He leaned forward.

  “The Imperial Thaumaturgical Division will be notified. They may examine him and her at their discretion for sign of prolonged hex exposure, but authority over her disposition remains with the Lord Commander.”

  He paused, amethyst hues reflecting Alric’s image.

  “However, Lord of War, know this: the woman is your charge. Her actions reflect on you and you alone. Her contamination, should it resurface becomes yours to study or contain; If need be, even to her complete subjugation.”

  His voice lowered, rolling through the chamber like distant waters.

  “The Empire grants you this authority because you earned it in the field of battle and the field of treachery. But authority is not absolution. If she proves dangerous, and the hex prove itself too great for you to restrain, the conseuqences will fall upon you alone.”

  He drew breath.

  “Do you accept this burden, Lord Vaelgard?”

  Alric’s gaze did not waver.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  The Emperor inclined his head a fraction and raised his hand.

  “Then so be it. This matter is ended.”

  Hoarfrost descended upon them with the weight of judgment. No one spoke nor dared protest.

  The Seneschals remained frozen in their seats like statues carved from gelid ice. Durell’s smile had long since vanished, replaced by something more fragile and brittle.

  Caellis’ tapping hands were now flat on the table, unmoving, his incessant rhythm stifled into careful silence.

  Vaudrel alone did not seem to respond, his expression unchanged. None could say why, his features unreadable.

  For a long moment, the chamber held its silence, light spilling in from the windows above cutting through the shadows cast by its pillars.

  The Emperor let his hand rest upon the armrest before continuing.

  “With this, the matters of custody and Khal-Drathir’s fall are resolved. The campaign’s full accounting will proceed in subsequent sessions as protocol demands.”

  He rose from the throne, his crimson and gold robes cascading over stone like water.

  “This Council is adjourned.”