Areion's fists clenched, his knuckles turning white. He had listened to the nobles' self-righteous tirades, their blatant displays of arrogance, their attempts to dehumanize Mateo.
He felt a burning desire to lash out, to silence the venomous words that filled the court. He wanted to strip away the veneer of civility, to expose the raw, ugly truth of their entitlement. But before he could act, a firm hand rested on his arm.
Lucian, his eyes filled with a silent warning, held Areion's gaze.
"Brother," Lucian murmured, his voice low and urgent, "This is not the time."
Areion, his jaw clenched, reluctantly allowed Lucian's words to penetrate his rage. He knew Lucian was right. Any outburst would be perceived as a sign of weakness, an admission of guilt. He had to play their game, to use their rules against them.
Valdemar, his expression unreadable, surveyed the tense scene before him. He had witnessed the escalating animosity, the blatant display of classism, the raw hatred that simmered beneath the surface of the court's decorum. He understood the delicate balance of power, the need to maintain order. But he also recognized the injustice of the situation, the blatant attempt to crush a man who had dared to challenge the status quo.
He raised his hand, silencing the murmurs that rippled through the court. "The court is dismissed," he announced, his voice firm and authoritative. "We will reconvene day after tomorrow to deliver our judgment."
.
Lucian's chambers, usually a space of quiet contemplation, were now charged with a tense energy. Areion and Lucian sat in comfortable chairs, their expressions grave, the weight of the day's events hanging heavy in the air. The chamber doors swung open, and Romona entered, carrying a tray bearing two steaming cups of tea.
"Here, Master Lucian and Master Areion," she said, her voice soft and respectful. "Tea. I hope you like it."
Lucian nodded his thanks, while Areion took his cup without looking up, his mind churning with the implications of the trial. Romona, sensing the gravity of the situation, remained near the open gate, her gaze fixed on the two brothers, her presence a silent, watchful observer.
Lucian broke the silence, his voice calm but firm. "What was that about, Areion?"
Areion finally looked up, his crimson eyes filled with a burning intensity. "That was very common reaction to these kind of situations, Mateo was right. He did wrong on paper, yes. But he had his reasons. Those books, that knowledge, shouldn't be locked away, accessible only to the nobles. People, especially the children from the slums, they need that knowledge. They deserve it."
"He was trying to give them a chance, a way out of the squalor they're trapped in. He was trying to give them hope. And those nobles, they treat knowledge like a commodity, a tool to maintain their power. They're afraid of what might happen if the common people learn, if they start to think for themselves. Hording knowledge? What they're of? People getting pass them? Look people who are not educated didn't even know that lorium is a capital city of our kingdom Sangrael. They think lorium is the kingdom."
Lucian took a slow sip of his tea, his expression thoughtful. "Areion, I understand your passion. But you're talking about breaking established laws, about challenging the very foundations of our society."
"What society?" Areion retorted, his voice laced with bitterness. "A society where the rich get the world and the poor get deluded hope? A society where knowledge is a privilege, not a right? A society where children are condemned to a life of ignorance because of their birth?"
"You're idealizing him too much," Lucian said almost hiding his admiration from his words, his voice soft. "How do you know his intent was pure? Not some malice against the higher ups?"
Areion's gaze softened, a hint of sadness creeping into his eyes. "Because I met his wife, brother. Yesterday night. In the slums. She told me his story."
Lucian's eyes widened, his composure faltering for a moment. "You… you met his wife? In the slums? Yesterday night?"
Areion nodded. "Yes. She told me everything. His past, his motives, his… his love for teaching. She convinced me that he was a good man. Also he is student of grandma Rowena."
Lucian's expression turned serious. "I know."
Areion and Romona both stared at Lucian in shock. "You know?" Areion asked, his voice laced with disbelief.
Lucian nodded. "I saw you sneaking out last night. I didn't know where you were going, but Romona was with you, so I didn't think much of it. But I did see you leave."
Lucian leaned back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful, his expression softening slightly. "You're growing too fast, Areion," he said, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Faster than I initially thought." He paused, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. "I thought it would be nice if I gave you the freedom you deserve."
Areion let out a genuine laugh, the tension that had been gripping him finally easing. "Freedom? From what? Your constant lectures?"
Lucian chuckled, shaking his head. "From my… oversight. But don't grow wings faster than you can manage, okay? Growing up comes with its own challenges."
"Challenges?" Areion repeated, feigning innocence, his crimson eyes twinkling with amusement. "What challenges? I'm the picture of perfect composure."
Lucian chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Don't be ridiculous, Areion. You're impulsive, passionate, and prone to… dramatic pronouncements in royal court. All admirable qualities, mind you, but they require a certain… tempering."
[Brother is right I need to control my emotions or it will surely get me in uncalled tension.]
He paused, taking a sip of his tea, his expression turning serious. "Speaking of dramatic pronouncements, what do you intend to do about Mateo?"
Areion's smile faded, replaced by a determined set to his jaw. "I'm going to find a way to expose the truth. To show the court, and Father, that Mateo's actions were driven by compassion, not malice. That he was trying to give the children a chance, a chance that the nobles are trying to deny them."
"And how do you propose to do that?" Lucian asked, his voice laced with skepticism. "You heard Lord Theron and Lord Kaelen. They've painted Mateo as a dangerous radical, a threat to the very fabric of our society. They won't easily be swayed by sentiment."
"I don't intend to sway them with sentiment," Areion replied, his voice hardening. "I'll use their own logic against them. I'll expose their hypocrisy, their self-serving lies. I'll show them that they're not protecting society; they're protecting their own privilege."
"That's a dangerous game you're playing, Areion," Lucian warned, his brow furrowed. "You're challenging the established order, few nobles not gonna like it. You could make powerful enemies."
"I'm aware of the risks," Areion said, his voice unwavering. "But I can't stand by and watch."
Lucian sighed, his gaze softening slightly. "You're very like Rowena, you know. That same unwavering conviction." He paused putting his empty cup aside, "Well that what Grandfather would've said."
A flicker of understanding run through areion and Romona. Just then, a knock echoed through the chambers. The headmaid entered. She bowed respectfully. "Master Lucian, Lord Areion," she announced, her voice clear and precise. "Queen Vivienne demands Lord Areion's audience at the practice field."