"Those demons have declared war on the humans. These calls for reform fall on dead ears. The common folk will be suffering while those in stone towers will throw the stones that will hit them and the demons indisciminately." The bishop was standing at the court of the Duke of Onem looking at the lord on his high seat as if these words would free them all. "I know that my lord was sent away to Nauphosia to fight the raiders that have been threatening our lands for centuries. His lordship has gained many merits from this service on the border lands. Our king has reward you and we, your people, know your prosperity looks upon Onem kindly. The light upon this wrenched place is a little brighter due to your valent service."
The Old Duchess cleared her throat as she wrinkled her nose in annoyance. She looked miffed that she was sitting in a different chair than the black throne of the Duke. She had ruled for long in his absence, now that he was here, she was quick to speak on his behalf. There was a cold glare that she igored. "Get to the point, Father Klaus. Our family is more than capable as we have held this rock for over 12 generations. We all are aware of the great risks that my son took in order to secure the finances of Onem. The benefits are no doubt wonderful in having your own stones to throw with the cathedral construction. The people have been wondering if those funds should go towards the refugee fund or the armory. Anything other than gratitude will have you out of these halls. These halls were only to be hallowed to thank god for the return of that whose soul is saved from dying in a foreign land."
"Madam, I–" Father Klaus looked uncomfortable as he tried to say something. He then turned to the Duke who looked bored.
From the shadow itself that sank upon the large chair, there was slight movement and the bishop stepped back at the dusky tone of the voice. "Mother . . . I think it's time for you to retire for the afternoon. You have been a wonderful regent in my absence. I have been listening to your delegation and I am happy to see such capable hands that I have been blessed to have. However, I have returned. If this castle sees more blessings or curses, I wish the people to say my name. I see your efforts. I will always have it that this castle is well maintained for your benefit. I will see that you are always in the prayers of the common people. Let me stay cursed."
The Dowager Duchess looked towards the shadow as if she had more that she wanted to say, but thought better of it as an abundance of attendants suddenly appeared from the shadows around the side of the chair. She seemed almost terrified when she realized that some of the attendants were different than the ones she had known. But, she sloped forwards into the mob that lighted her out of the room.
It was a bird taking flight, up and out of danger. Or something being thrown out of a place it had been ill fated to make a clumsy nest. The Duke ignored her expressions and words as he had already decided what was to happen ahead now that he wanted to show his control.
"You can speak now, Father Klaus. Women are flighty, they have always the poor habits of overreaching for the things they are not meant to have. My mother knows she has a role, such a role needs to be made clear to her." The whisper drew his attention back towards the chair and the metallic armor which was occupying it. It was strange, as if, the person inside didn't feel like he had come home at all. The duke had officially returned from war . . . but his hand was slightly on his sword as if . . . as if . . . he longed to return to it instead of relief.
He should be relieved . . . he should be
Father Klaus looked up at the helmet which was still drawn in the cold darkness surrounding the throne. It did not make him want to speak at all, as it felt as if the battlefield had been brought in here inside the castle. "Sir, I know that I am beyond my bounds in speaking to you about this so soon after your greatest achievement. I know that you were commended by the king for not deserting when several of the other dukes were reprimanded for leaving the battlefield. I know the stakes in your campaign were great and worthy of the metals and treasures that you are said to have brought with you. But a dark shadow has come following you from the battlefield. Like wolves who get the taste of human flesh from eating on the battlefield, there is something that has decided to wage war on the peasant, the small folk."
"Don't speak to me in riddles, I am not one who wishes for my own people to come to harm. I have my mother to thank for that. Speak it plainly."
"Ogres, swarms of them, have been decimating villages, the refugees have been coming into Onem telling tales of burning and escaping from being . . . eaten."
"They are on the outskirts of our hallowed city. The caravans of merchants who usually come to Onem for trade and bringing supplies have been halted for fear of becoming mincemeat. I know too that people come into the wooden church hoping that the smell of the incense will make them unappetizing to the ogres that roam the outskirts of the city. Sir, they are here already, hiding in plain sight among us. Such a fear amongst the people is something I have never seen. They squat in the darkest of corners in every room hoping not to be seen by anything or anyone."