The young cleric was in his office.
Ordered scrolls. Candles melting on their brass bases. The silence of the church surrounded him.
The wooden door opened. A messenger entered. His steps were quick.
The cleric looked up. Smiled.
"Oh. It's you."
The messenger did not return the smile. His breathing was short. He carried a letter in his hand. He handed it over the desk.
The cleric took it.
"Is it about the black sand I sent to be investigated?"
"No."
The messenger stepped back.
"It's worse. The king has ordered an audience. Tonight."
The cleric's eyes opened wide.
---
A carriage galloped down the main avenue.
Night enveloped the capital. The cleric looked out the window. The street lamps passed like blurred lines of yellow light. The horses snorted, pushed to their limit.
They arrived at the palace gates.
Several more carriages were in the cobblestone courtyard. All parked in silence. All painted black. No crests. No flags. Their owners had dressed them in mourning or shadows to disguise their arrival in the early morning hours.
The cleric stepped down. His boots touched the stone.
He looked around. He saw the faces of the newcomers. Nobles, ministers, advisors. All out of their beds. All confused. Their fine clothes hastily put on.
He recognized one near the fountain.
A scribe. The same one who sometimes brought him documents from the archives for his research.
He walked toward him.
"Hey," he said. "How are you? Do you know what's happening?"
The scribe looked at him. His face was pale under the moonlight. He spoke in a grave voice.
"No. I came a few minutes ago. They just told us to wait here."
"What could it be?"
The scribe shook his head. The general murmur filled the courtyard.
The noise stopped abruptly.
A knight of the royal guard emerged from the main doors of the palace. His white armor clinked in the silence. He did not introduce himself. He made no bow.
"You are requested to enter immediately."
He turned around and went back inside.
Everyone followed him. They entered in silence.
They were guided through wide hallways. Torches illuminated the tapestries on the walls.
They reached the throne room.
The seat was there. Tall. Imposing. Carved wood covered in gold and red velvet.
But it was empty.
From the lateral darkness, a figure advanced. Footsteps echoed in the hall.
Elector.
He stopped at the flank of the throne. He did not climb the steps. He looked at the gathered crowd. His face was tense.
"What's happening, Elector?" someone asked from the front row.
Elector began to walk through the hall. His hands behind his back.
"I understand you are confused. But this is urgent. We are under threat."
No one spoke.
"Weeks ago," Elector continued, "a group of royal guard soldiers was defeated by a demonic entity. In the rural areas of Aldric."
A low murmur broke out in the hall.
"No," said an older man, shaking his head. "Impossible. Demons were eradicated long ago."
"Banished," Elector corrected, stopping his pace. "All the kingdoms agreed to pursue them to the death. But even so, apparently, one survived."
Another noble stepped forward.
"How can you confirm that?"
Elector rolled his eyes.
"The king is gone."
The entire hall stopped breathing.
"He has retired to a secret location," said Elector, pointing at the empty throne. "A few days ago, a church visit observed remnants of a dark aura. It passed through here."
Elector pointed toward the back courtyard.
"In the cultural sector. Right here in the palace. Everywhere, but especially the library."
Elector's gaze swept the faces of the nobles.
"It walked all over. And no one saw it.
Gazes crossed the hall. The initial fear immediately transmuted into something else. The nobles' postures hardened.
One raised his voice.
"What does that have to do with us?"
Elector stood still.
"First the king strangles us with his war," the noble continued, pointing at Elector. "And now he can't defend his own home. Isn't that enough to stop trusting him?"
"Yes!" everyone shouted at once.
Elector raised his hand.
"Silence!"
The hall took a while to calm down. Breaths could be heard, heavy.
"This isn't about giving something to the king," said Elector, measuring his words. "It's about allowing a church visit. Just one day!"
He lowered his hand.
"To your houses. To see where it's been."
The hall erupted.
"No! How?" a man shouted. "This is espionage! Will the king enter our homes?"
"This is unacceptable!"
"Yes! How do we know you're not making all this up?"
Elector stepped back half a step. His hands tensed. The crowd closed the distance. The complaints overlapped.
Elector began to freeze.
"I-it's an order," he said. His voice no longer had its former strength. It trembled. "If not, it's insurrection."
The noble who had spoken first laughed contemptuously.
"We're a day away from doing just that."
The argument continued. Shouts and threats bounced off the vaults of the throne room. Elector tried to speak, but his words were lost in the noise.
The young cleric watched from afar. Withdrawn near a column.
Beside him stood the scribe.
The cleric turned to speak to him.
"If that demon walked among us..."
The scribe looked at him.
"Many people could be falsely accused," the cleric finished.
He looked at the mob of furious nobles. Looked at the empty throne. Looked at Elector cornered.
"I just hope this doesn't get out of control."