It was one of those times when 'off-balanced' wasn't nearly a strong enough description.

Murdered.

That's what the Prince had just told me, wasn’t it? He was insightful as hell, and would have known exactly how his words would be interpreted. Tenarreau knew something, hinted that he had information about the seemingly chance appearance of Rose Blight, the disease that had stripped my family tree bare. He knew...

Either that or he was simply yanking my chain, and was long overdue for a much deserved punch to the middle of his face.

I highly doubted the second. He was perhaps the most talented politician in all of Harael, and you don't get to a position like his by speaking carelessly, or dropping something by accident.

Murdered.

The whole carriage ride back to Tucat keep went by in an instant, so wrapped up was I in my thoughts. Everything had changed. The world tasted differently. My fatigue had burned away and evaporated in the face of this revelation, leaving me feeling as though I were on the verge of tears, but also brimming with a unending supply of raw, angry energy. If I were to hop out of the carriage and run alongside of it for an hour, it felt as though I'd scarcely make a dent in the reservoir that burned within me, like my very soul was trapped in an unending primal scream that could never run out of breath to power it.

I could picture my family clearly in my head, much more clearly than I'd ever been capable of before. Often in the past I would imagine them as they had been, smiling and laughing, small hazy flashes of remembered conversations or other moments that indelibly burned themselves into my memory.

Now I could see every single detail of their faces in my mind's eye, like they were right there with me. Jillian, my mother, my father ... all three of them were looking at me, the laughing and joyous faces from my memories replaced by somber, serious expressions, the warm vibrant colors of my recollections replaced with a cold grey. I could see them, standing there, waiting expectantly.

My family. Murdered.

Who, though? Had it been Redforne? While I found myself desperately wanting to believe it was so, the notion didn't make sense. He'd been all but a babe back then, quite younger than I'd been at the time. I also found it highly unlikely that Tenarreau would hint at something like this if Redforne was the one responsible ... not while simultaneously attempting to solicit my agreement to keep from moving against the young Lord.

Who then?

Was there perhaps some sort of clue in the last of my father's books?

“Milord?” a deep, familiar voice said tentatively.

“Hmmm?” I managed to croak, looking up from the floor of the carriage that I'd been staring through with my unfocused gaze.

“Lord Tucat, we have arrived,” said my coachman, eying me with a wary concern.

“I ... Tarryl, thank you. Sorry, distracted there. Say,” I said, getting up from my seat and stepping lightly out of the door he'd been holding open for me, “do you know where Cyrus is?”

“Brought him back here as instructed, Milord, before returning to the palace to wait for you,” Tarryl said, shrugging. “Best guess would put him in bed, judging from his eyes. Did you need me to summon him for you?”

“No, no ... not at all, Tarryl,” I said, waving dismissively. “He's probably extremely tired and deserves a long, uninterrupted sleep. I suspect I'll be rather envious of him in a few hours...”

“Very good Milord,” he said, standing at attention and giving me a terse nod. His expression softened a little, and a flash of concern crossed his face. “Lord Tucat, is everything alright?”

I paused, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

“It will be, Tarryl. Soon, I hope,” I nodded. “Thank you.”

He returned the nod before turning his attention to the wicker-ing horses harnessed to the front of the carriage. I left him to the remainder of his duties, the heels of my boots clacking against the cobbles leading up to the front of the keep. I gave my knights at the front entrance a distracted nod as I went inside.

Upon entering I seemed to do things more or less automatically, dropping my cloak and gloves on a chair near the closet. Leaving my outside garments where they lay I made my way to the dining hall.

As usual, delicious aromas lingered from behind the double-doors leading to the kitchen, despite the fact that dinner had likely been served hours ago. I didn't find myself hungry at that moment, so I didn't risk a look into the kitchen to see who was around, or what remained of the evening's feast. I'd missed every single meal Mosond had cooked that day, so doubtless he was in his back room, sulking. I would have to remember to eat later, despite my lack of hunger.

A drink, on the other hand, sounded like a fantastic idea.

I made my way around the back to the garden entrance and strode down the stairway, lost in thought. I hadn't done the sort of thinking that I'd wanted during the trip home – considering the Prince's offer and determining how I might take advantage of it. I would need to decide quickly if I wished to reap the benefits at the ceremony tomorrow.

Every time I had tried thinking of how I might use this opportunity, my thoughts drifted to the last words he'd spoken, and all thoughts concerning territorial expansion were swept from my mind. Occasionally I would picture myself striding into the palace, finding the Prince and naming my price – any and all information he had regarding what happened to my family.

What if he didn't know anything definitive? What if he couldn't give me a name? What then?

As I walked past the wines stored in the cellar I grabbed a bottle of Feirtu-ett, a nicely dry green wine, to replace the one that was waiting in my exercise room. Holding it close to my chest with my left hand, I carefully hopped over the hallway traps in my familiar, elaborate dance. Pulling my key from my tunic, I unlocked the door and pressed my thumb lightly against the grey square near the hinges, which buzzed and verified that I was allowed to enter by way of a series of loud clicking noises.

Once inside, I gave the door a negligent shove and headed towards the drinks cabinet, still pondering furiously. What if I could find out more about my family on my own? It hadn't been more than an hour since I'd been introduced to the notion that someone had actually intentionally unleashed a fearsome disease upon my family, killing all but me. I had an opportunity to secure my fortunes, a once in a lifetime sort of thing. Did I want to use it to find out something that I hadn't even tried to look for myself?

Some of the torches lighting my exercise room had gone out, I noticed.

I made a note to fetch a lighting stick as I pulled the dark bottle of green wine from the chill water of the cooler to make room for its replacement, which I cradled in my other arm. I idly listened to the last of the secure sounding 'clunks' coming from the door as it finished closing, bolts ramming into place and various other security measures arming themselves.

And then I heard a very loud and unexpected 'Tang!'

The door erupted in a shower of sparks so bright that I had to shield my eyes. White smoke began spewing into the room from the area around door, occasional explosive popping sounds being drowned out by a noise like the loudest rainstorm ever heard. The air became reminiscent of fire and forges, the smell of hot metal assaulting my nose and throat.

Coughing, I stood there with my eyes wide, unable to fathom what was going on.

Within seconds the noise subsided, and the smoke turned a darker grey, snaking lazily upwards rather than billowing violently outward. I took a few uncertain steps towards the door, mystified.

The thick, sturdy door remained closed. Actually, at first glance it looked as though it would remain closed for a long, long time.

A glowing trail of rapidly cooling red-hot metal zig-zagged its way from the top of the door all the way to the bottom, all along the side opposite the hinges. The hinges themselves had been reduced to an ugly, glowing slag, as had the door handle and keyhole. Any part of the door that was not metal continued to smoke and sizzle from the heat that I could still feel on my face, even standing several feet away from it.

“Well now,” chuckled a voice from the darkness. “I bet you thought I was joking earlier, hey Tucat?”

I quickly spun around, the twisted wreckage of a door all but forgotten.

There in the shadows, sitting cross legged and straight-backed in the middle of my dueling circle, his two priceless swords laying on the hardwood floor, was Eagan Redforne.