Marton arrived at the Duke of Derry's house with the face and expression of someone for whom being thrown out of bed in the middle of the night was the least of his worries.

In front of the mansion, the servants were all shocked, while the Duke's favorite maid was so desperate that she couldn't stop crying.

"What the hell happened?" he blurted out when he met Daemon at the foot of the staircase in the hall

"I still don't know."

"Where is that girl now?"

"I had her locked up in our rooms in the palace. They can't touch her while she's in there."

"I hope this isn't a way to protect her from the consequences of what she's done."

"Let's not kid ourselves, Count. There may not be slavery, but Connelly's legal system is far from protective of monsters. Should she be found guilty, I will hand her over to your justice myself."

Daemon then glanced at the police inspector, who was staring at him more than eloquently: "Luckily I arrived before the servants raised the alarm."

"By the way, what were you doing here?"

"The Duke approached me last night in the palace courtyard, and asked me to meet him at his home."

"In the dead of night?"

"He seemed scared of something, but he was very vague about it."

"For Gaia, as soon as Roda and the others find out..."

Marton didn't have time to finish his sentence when one of his secretaries put a piece of paper in his hand: "Forget it, they've already found out. An emergency meeting has been called for tomorrow morning."

"I'll try to find out as much as I can. First, I'll question Xylla personally."

"I'll order the mansion searched. If he wanted to talk to you about something, there might be valuable information there."



Xylla had never experienced a hangover in her life, but she had seen some people wake up in the morning with no idea where they were or what they had been doing for the last few hours.

But that couldn't have been her case, since doses of alcohol just above the limit were often lethal for harpies, and in any case she didn't remember touching anything strange in the latest hours.

The worst thing was precisely that inexplicable lapse in memory, nine hours of darkness that went from when she returned to the palace with the Princess to waking up in that study with the lifeless body of the Duke of Derry at her feet, punctuated only by a few images of a meeting with Daemon and the hearing.

"My Lord, you must believe me," she said, almost with tears in her eyes before Daemon had even closed the door. "I don't know what happened."

"I believe you, Xylla. And I'm sorry I spoke to you that way when we met. I was as shocked as you are. Now please, tell me everything you remember."

"I would, but as I said, I don't remember anything. I didn't even know who the man they say I killed was."

"That man was the Duke of Derry, one of Marton's main opponents. Honestly, you couldn't have picked a worse target. Marton had us come here to strengthen his political clout, and now we might have dug his grave. And it wouldn't be the best way to start our diplomatic relationship with Connelly."

"I... I don't know what to say, My Lord."

"Anything is good, even the smallest detail."

Xylla summoned all her willpower, and fighting the terrible headache that seemed to almost prevent her from digging deeper, she finally managed to recall an image.

"I... I met him. Yes, I remember now. It happened in the courtyard, shortly after I returned to the castle."

"So it happened in the afternoon, before the hearing. And then? Did he say anything to you? Did you talk to each other?"

"He... he wasn't feeling well. His maid had gone to get him some medicine, but he... he was in a hurry. He asked me to take him somewhere."

"That makes sense. I also had the impression that he was sick when I met him. Do you remember where you took him?"

"I... no, I'm sorry. That's the last clear memory I have, apart from a few images of the audience. You and the Princess were talking, my head started spinning, and all of a sudden I was in that room."

"After the hearing, we had dinner with the Count and other members of his government. But you left saying you had to meet someone. That was around ten o'clock. I arrived in the Duke's study at two in the morning, and according to Lady Valera, he had been dead only a few minutes earlier. Whatever caused your amnesia, we can assume it happened in those four or five hours."

"Meet someone? But... I don't know anyone. I've never even been to this country before."

"But you said you were on good terms with Princess Elizabeth. The fact remains that the marks on the Duke's body clearly indicate that you killed him. Only the claws of a harpy can cause such gashes."

"But why would I kill him? And more importantly, why don't I remember doing it?"

"These are all questions we need to answer. And quickly, if we want to avoid a diplomatic incident with unimaginable consequences."

"Please, allow me to help you."

"Don't even mention, you're not moving from here."

"But I-"

"You killed one of the most respected men in this country with your own hands, Xylla. There are people out there who want your head. If your status as an embassy member didn't protect you, you'd be locked up in a cell or worse. As long as you remain in these rooms no one can touch you, but if you were to put even a feather outside there's nothing I could do to protect you. And if you're thinking of running away, know that the courtyard is guarded day and night, while there are always three soldiers standing guard beyond the door. So, for the sake of all of us, stay here and don't move."



The next day the seat of the Council of Nobles in the heart of the city thundered like few other times in Connelly's history.

All eyes were naturally on the empty seat of the Duke of Derry, and the gravity of the situation was also certified by the presence of His Holiness himself in the guise of Archbishop, with his trusted Chamberlain Calvados always at his side.

The Count of Marton didn't even have the courage to ring the bell to try to restore order, and he couldn't remember receiving so many insults as that day.

Even Watford and his allies looked bewildered, while Countess Arendelle and the other non-aligned exchanged meaningful glances with Roda and the other opponents.

"Honorable members of the Council, I urge you to remain calm! Remember your role!"

"You are the last person who should be allowed to speak!"

"Your hands are stained with the Duke's blood! You and that boy are made of the same stuff!"

"This is against all rules!" replied Montesol. "The Count never had such intentions! You have no right to blame him for this murder!"

Roda, who on other occasions never failed to give in to his passion, this time seemed unexpectedly calm: "It was the Count Prime Minister who insisted on inviting the Free State ambassadors to our country, and everyone here knows why. With all due respect for the Crown Princess, but it's quite obvious that he hoped to use them as a scarecrow to convince us to support him in his transition. It may be true that he is not materially involved in the Duke's death, but his intentions regarding the relationship between Connelly and the Free State are certainly not what he has always wanted us to believe."

"Unfortunately, I must agree with the Marquis," said Countess Arendelle. "Your intentions regarding your relations with the Free State are most ambiguous. The Duke of Derry was the first to suggest this suspicion, and he happened to be killed by an agent of Eirinn."

"And so, Countess, do you think I would have been so naive as to put myself in a similar position with my own hands? I must assume that you do not know me as well as you think."

"There is a reason why they call you the Old Fox," said Calvados. "What better way to confuse your enemies than to have others commit crimes that bring you an advantage, but from which you can then easily distance yourself?"

"I agree. Perhaps the representatives of the Free State were as deceived as we were after all."

"I must assume that you don't know me as well as you don't know the Count, Countess Arendelle!"

That voice so full of cynical sarcasm heralded the appearance of Daemon, who entered the room almost breaking down the door.

His arrival threatened to unleash disaster once again: "What is he doing here? – Throw him out! – He is the real murderer!"

"Distinguished members of this council. I ask to speak."

"Silence him! – His presence is an insult! – He is in league with the Prime Minister!"

Marton nearly sprained his wrist from ringing the bell, but it was no use; and to his surprise, it was Roda who restored calm once again.

"Wait, respectable colleagues. Let us hear what the Prime Minister of Eirinn has to say. I am sure he will be able to give us an explanation as to why he wanted to prevent the authorities from arresting the person responsible for the Duke's murder."

"Thank you, Marquis Roda. And you will be surprised to know that for some time now in our country there has been in force a thing called the principle of innocence. Without any discrimination as to race, gender or social class, no individual in the Free State may be arrested, tortured, much less convicted without reasonable grounds for doing so."

"Your harpy was found next to the Duke's body stained with his blood! What more evidence do you need?"

"For you it may be enough, but for me it is not. Our law needs much stronger evidence to accuse, or even worse, convict someone."

"Are you suggesting that we are barbarians?" said Watford, who, despite being an ally of the Earl, was not a little offended by the statement.

"I am suggesting that this whole situation may be nothing more than a huge set-up by someone who hopes to use it to politically damage the Count."

"You just said that in your magnificent legal system you don't accuse without evidence, and yet it seems to me that's what you're doing."

"I'm not accusing anyone, Viscount Enchela. I'm just speculating. Do you feel implicated?"

The room groaned, realizing that as they said, Daemon Haselworth knew how to use words as well as a sword, and that it was therefore best not to challenge him to a dialectical confrontation.

"So you claim that there is a conspiracy against the Count?" asked the Holy Father.

"Of course, as the Viscount said, I have no evidence to prove what I say. But I spoke to an innkeeper this morning, who said he saw Xylla walking alone after midnight toward the Duke of Derry's mansion. A priest and a midwife returning from a delivery also said they had seen her, and all three agreed on one thing: that she was walking in an unusual way, as if she had been drunk... or under hypnosis."

The new murmur that those words generated was much louder than the previous one.

"You are just trying to deny the evidence!"

"All three are prepared to testify with their hands on the Book of Gaia, if necessary. Are you really willing to doubt the word of a priest?"

"What are you trying to say, Prime Minister?" asked Countess Arendelle.

"As you may know, extracting a Servant Stone is a very risky process, with a high probability of causing serious damages to the host. This is why almost all previous slaves inhabiting the Free State still have their own. Usually they are only used to inflict pain and punish rebellious slaves, but my research has established that they can be used for other purposes as well."

Daemon paused; then, funereally, he concluded: "Like making someone unknowingly do something, and then forgetting about it right afterward."

A masterful coup de théâtre, which raised a hornets' nest of resentful comments and exchanges of accusations.

Some rightly argued that coming from a nation nearly a third former slaves, Daemon himself was a more than likely suspect for that sort of crime.

Once again, he turned the tables.

"I have to think that in Connelly, the land where magic can be felt at every corner, there wouldn't be someone capable of putting a spell like this into effect?"

A reasonable objection that silenced some of the opponents, while at the same time attracting the pleased and admiring gaze of Marton and many of his ministers.

"Of course it's not up to me to make accusations, and I repeat that for the moment this is only a hypothesis. What I am sure of at this point, however, is that someone here is trying to involve the Free State in Connelly's power issues. And as Prime Minister, I have no intention of allowing that to happen."

In a matter of minutes, Daemon and his friends had gone from accused to accuser, all with simple dialectics.

"As much as I would never have wanted it to happen at a time like this, in light of these events I feel relieved to have been able to comply with the request that the Count Prime Minister had made to our country."

This time Marton was incredibly the first to give the impression of having been caught off guard, but he was smart and experienced enough not to let it show.

Daemon then invited all members of the government and council to come to the balcony overlooking the training ground for the royal archers, where something far more frightening than bows and arrows had been positioned during the night.

"Here you are, gentlemen. As requested, twelve cannons. All latest-generation pieces, lighter and easier to handle than the previous version. The wheels equipped with springs and suspensions make transport easier even on the roughest terrain, while the new flintlock priming system reduces the risk of jamming or accidents. But the real novelty is the ammunition. If previously it was necessary to follow a rigid sequence of operations that included the insertion of the gunpowder charge and the metal ball, these new projectiles incorporate both, halving the reloading time. Please have a direct view of it."

The operators were all members of Connelly's army who had received minimal training, but this did not prevent them from transforming the brick wall that served as a target into a pile of stones with a few shots.

A shocked silence at this demonstration was the response from everyone, including Marton himself.

"And that's it. Twelve more guns will arrive at Hadowald within the next two months, along with skilled gunners to act as instructors. In a short time, Connelly's army will have a very respectable firepower. We trust that this will ensure a peaceful transition of power, as well as further cementing the friendly and cooperative relations between the Free State and the Principality."

Marton was the most shocked of all, but knowing that appearing foolish or clueless was much worse than appearing guilty, he couldn't even allow himself to openly express what he thought.

Therefore, he approached Daemon, and in the lowest voice possible whispered in his ear: "Are you completely out of mind? Now they will really think that I am planning some coup d'état under the guise of the succession."

Daemon looked at him with a smile worthy of the worst of the demons of hell: "Have you ever been fishing, Count?"

"What!?"

"The better the bait, the easier it is for the big fish to bite the hook."

And with that he walked away, leaving Marton alone to face the storm.

"This is outrageous!"

"Prime Minister, you have really gone too far this time!"

"Well said! But if you think we will accept this, you are sorely mistaken!"

"Connelly isn't intimidated by anyone!"