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"Devon and Damien"Chapter 6: Act 1
The banquet hall, calm and peaceful just moments ago, was now a scene of chaos and tumult. Guests scurried about the room like ants, discussing the horrendous events that had just recently transpired. King Faleaon collapsed into a chair, his mind unable to comprehend the horror that had befallen his family. He gazed about the room, his eyes fixing for a few moments on several guests who were helping themselves to the planned dessert. After a slight shake of the head for having invited those particular individuals, Faleaon continued his scan of the room in a futile attempt to take his mind off the events of the last couple of hours. His mother had always told him that no dream lasted forever, yet no matter how many times he tried to awaken, he could not escape this living nightmare. He continued his perusal of the room, noticing that First General Saul Warren was busy directing a team of guards. Upon Devon Tristam’s resignation, Warren had replaced him, acknowledging that he was not trying to fill Tristam’s shoes. No one doubted him, for Warren developed his own style of leadership, taking on a much more authoritarian role than his predecessor had. Although known as somewhat of a hard and unforgiving man, Warren was loyal… and Faleaon appreciated that. Faleaon’s eyes finally came to rest on his own family a few feet in front of him. Joanna’s face was red from the many tears she had cried; she sat on the floor, her head bowed in silence. Meanwhile, her fiancé Jerrod stood nearby, quietly talking with her brother Joram. Faleaon, now unable to cry, simply got out of his chair and knelt by his daughter, placing his arm around her. About an hour ago, some of Warren’s guards had taken Nathan’s body to the High Priest for parting rights – they did not want him to miss paradise, after all. Since the High Priest forbade himself to enter a place where a murder had been committed, the General reluctantly ordered his guards to escort the body to the Priest.A few minutes later, Devon Tristam and Faddon returned from inspecting the castle for intruders. Knowing that no one could speak audibly without permission in the presence of a mourning king, the two waited patiently for Faleaon to acknowledge them. As Faleaon raised his head to look at the two, Devon noticed that the king’s visage was remarkably different. Devon had always remembered Faleaon as having a somewhat positive countenance, even when he was angry. Now, the king appeared pale and disconsolate… he truly looked as if he had just lost everything he held dear in life. “Speak, Devon,” he mumbled quietly. Devon nodded. “Sire, Faddon and I have secured the rafters. Apparently the shot did indeed come from there… we found an empty quiver.” “Very well. Carry on.” Devon and Faddon did not know how to respond to such an ambiguous request from their king, who normally gave explicit orders. Both bowed lightly and walked away, unsure of their next course of action. Devon turned to his companion. “Faddon, inquire of General Warren whether it is safe for the royal family to retire to their quarters.” “Aye,” Faddon acknowledged, turning in the direction of General Warren. Devon took a look around the room and walked outside to the balcony. The cool night breeze blew upon his cheeks, a tranquil reminder of times past. In the night, he could make out teams of guards with lit torches, scouring the countryside. For the first time since the murder, Devon really stopped to ponder the events for himself. Devon had felt anger… and he still felt anger. He was angry with the assassin for taking the life of a man he considered at least a nominal friend, a man whom many praised as being a worthy heir to the throne. He was angry with Jerrod for comforting Joanna, and he was angry with Joanna for letting him. But most of all, he was angry with himself… for letting it all take place. He found his concentration broken by the sound of approaching footsteps, which was more than enough to identify their owner. “You don’t have to turn around,” Joanna said. Devon hesitated and turned around slowly, attempting a smile. “Who am I to disrespect a princess?” Joanna attempted a smile as well. “You still have your charm I see…” She looked around for a few moments before gathering her next words. “I understand that you wish me to leave you alone, and I don’t expect you to be obliged to answer my request.” Devon neither denied nor agreed with her claim but simply gazed into her eyes. “A request?” Joanna nodded. “You… are still the most trustworthy man I know…” She started crying. Devon’s natural instinct was to reach out to her, but he restrained himself. “What is it?”The next day, Devon Tristam emerged from the lavatory of his quarters clean-shaven and with much shorter hair. “Well, look at you!” Faddon exclaimed. “I hardly recognize you… I was getting used to the ‘Bathe-once-a-year’ look!” “Funny…” Devon replied, looking at himself in the mirror of the castle’s guest quarters. “I always knew you to be a better comedian than fighter.” “What now, General?” Faddon inquired, smiling. “General?” Devon retorted, with a somewhat puzzled look on his face. “Aye. The way you’ve been acting, one would have thought that the great General Tristam had arisen from the dead.” “Just doing what needs to be done, Faddon,” Devon replied. “You’d do the same.” “I suppose so… and a valiant thing you have done. The people in distraught, the royal family in tears, and you jump to action. But…” “But what?” Devon asked. Faddon smiled. “But now it is time for the General to do his job.” “Of course… why do you say that?” “How long have we known each other, old friend?” Devon thought for a moment and shook his head. “A long time.” “Exactly, and I know exactly what old Devon Tristam is thinking before he does. Leave the investigation to them. Your part is done.” Devon nodded. “You know me only too well… but no, my part is far from over. She asked me to find the killer.” “I know,” Faddon nodded. I’m a lot smarter than you give me credit for.” As Devon continued getting dressed, he muttered, “And, of course, I accepted immediately.” He stopped for a moment and turned to Faddon. “Why did I get myself into this?” “Because you love her.” “Stop it…” Devon replied. “Don’t play coy with me, Devon Tristam. And she asked you because she still loves you.” Devon thought for a moment. “I’d still die for her.” “What she needs right now is for you to live for her.” Faddon interjected. “She doesn’t need someone else whom she cares about dying a senseless death.” “I understand… but I’ve got to do this for me as well.” Faddon seemed baffled. “For you? What have you got to prove?” “That I can still make a difference.” “Ah, having a wee bit of an inferiority complex, are we?” Faddon sipped a little of his tea he held in his hand. “The Devon Tristam I used to know didn’t care what others thought. He just lived his life.” “Well, as you alluded to earlier, Faddon, that Devon Tristam died a long time ago.” Faddon nodded. “I suppose… but nay, I cannot go with you; rumors are spreading that there is war brewing in my homeland. I must return.” Devon nodded. “I understand… I suppose I shall be alone on my campaign then.” “Why not ask Jerrod to go with you?” Faddon asked, his smile betraying his jest. Devon managed a smile. “If you didn’t have your wit, my friend, I think you’d be a lot better off in life.” “Nay, it’s my wit that keeps me going, old friend!” Faddon smiled, grabbing his belongings. “But don’t worry… I’ll keep my eye on you.” The two embraced and Faddon departed, leaving Devon alone in his quarters. He had no idea where he would begin his investigation, but he knew he had made a promise. He hated making promises, for he knew that he was usually dumb enough to keep them. |
