Royal Tension

The next day, Areion, his expression serious, walked into the grand throne room, Romona following closely behind, her posture more focused and alert than usual. He surveyed the room, his gaze sweeping across the faces of the assembled ministers, grand ministers, and the few nobles in attendance. He moved to stand beside Lucian, his presence radiating a quiet intensity. Romona, her movements precise and efficient, took her position among the other maids, her eyes scanning the room, ever watchful.

Areion nudged Lucian's elbow, a subtle gesture that broke the formal atmosphere. Their eyes met, and Areion seized the opportunity to speak. "Brother," he asked, his voice low, "is anything exciting happened recently?"

Lucian, his expression calm and composed, replied, "No, nothing happened. Nothing that could excite me for the most part."

Areion, feigning a shocked expression, raised his eyebrows. "Oh, okay. I mean, anything… weird? Any cases? Anything you want to tell me?"

Lucian looked at Areion, his gaze thoughtful, before speaking. "Well, there's a new construction plan for better connectivity near the Ishtaar Islands, tax relaxation for small vendors, and… a robbery case."

Areion, his attention piqued, almost ignored the other pieces of information. "What kind of robbery case?" he asked, his curiosity evident.

Lucian sighed, his gaze shifting towards the dais where Valdemar sat. "Why don't you wait? We have a judgment scheduled for that case today. It's not a simple robbery, so the judgment won't be easy."

The grand royal court hummed with a low, monotonous drone. Areion, standing rigidly amongst the assembled nobles, forced himself to maintain an air of polite attention. The tedious, drawn-out discussions of trade routes and land disputes were a familiar, unwelcome soundtrack to his days, but they were not his primary concern. His focus remained sharp, his senses alert for the moment when that case comes.

A ripple of anticipation spread through the court as a particularly flamboyant noble, Makus Yamiris, stepped forward. A smirk, practiced and arrogant, played on his lips, a clear indication that this was not his first foray Into the arena of royal accusations. "Good afternoon, my lord," he intoned, his voice dripping with false deference. "I, Makus Yamiris, stand before you once again with the same… regrettable case concerning the Royal Library."

Valdemar, the aging king, nodded wearily, gesturing for Makus to proceed. "Continue, Lord Yamiris."

With a dramatic flourish, Makus gestured towards the court's entrance. At his silent command, a guard led forward an elderly man, his hands bound by iron cuffs. The man's posture, however, was far from submissive. He stood tall, his gaze unwavering, his eyes almost piercing in their intensity as they swept across the assembled nobles.

Areion's breath hitched. [Is this… Mateo?] He gasped inwardly, recognizing the man from Raquel's description.

Makus, oblivious to Areion's internal turmoil, began his accusatory tirade. He recounted, with exaggerated indignation, how Mateo, the Royal Librarian, had allegedly allowed children from the slums to borrow books from the library. He emphasized the fact that these children were not members of the Royal Library, framing Mateo's act as a blatant theft of royal property. He then proceeded to elaborate, in excruciating detail, on the supposed severity of this transgression, demanding that Mateo be punished with years of imprisonment.

Throughout Makus's lengthy diatribe, Areion's gaze remained fixed on Mateo. The old man displayed no hint of guilt or remorse. There was no fear in his eyes, no flicker of apprehension. He stood as if he were the one judging them, not the other way around. He was not afraid, just as Raquel had said.

Valdemar, his brow furrowed, listened to Makus's pronouncements with a weary patience. He had seen this kind of petty power play countless times, the nobles vying for favor and influence, using any means necessary. He glanced at Mateo, his gaze lingering on the man's unyielding stance. "Mateo," he said, his voice carrying the weight of his years, "do you have anything to say in your defense?"

Mateo's voice, when he spoke, was clear and resonant, cutting through the stifling atmosphere of the court. "My lord," he began, his gaze unwavering, "I do not deny that I allowed the children to borrow the books. I do not consider it a crime."

A collective gasp rippled through the court. Makus's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction. "Insolence!" he exclaimed. "This is precisely the sort of defiance we must punish! He admits his guilt!"

Mateo ignored Makus, his attention fixed on Valdemar. "These children," he continued, his voice softening slightly, "they are hungry, my lord. Hungry for knowledge. They live in squalor, surrounded by ignorance and despair. The books I lent them… they were a lifeline. A spark of hope in the darkness. And it's not like they stole it, they always returns them."

"Hope?" Makus scoffed. "They are thieves, nothing more! They have no right to touch the royal books!"

"They have the right to learn," Mateo retorted, his voice rising slightly, a hint of steel beneath the calm. "They have the right to dream of a better future. And those books… they are not mere possessions, my lord. They are vessels of knowledge, of stories, of ideas. They belong to everyone, not just the privileged few. General library doesn't have books like in royal library. Why there is an distinction between two? What is hidden in those books that's not allowed for kids from ungrateful circumstances to learn from?"

Valdemar's eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. He had always valued knowledge, had always believed in its power to elevate and transform. But he also understood the delicate balance of power within his court, the need to appease the nobles, to maintain order. "Mateo," he said, his voice laced with a hint of warning, "you have overstepped your bounds. The Royal Library is a place of privilege, a repository of knowledge for those who have earned it."

"Earned it?" Mateo's voice was filled with a quiet fury. "What have these nobles earned, my lord? They sit in their gilded cages, their minds stagnant, their hearts cold. They hoard knowledge like a dragon hoards gold, afraid to share its power."

Makus, his face flushed with anger, stepped forward. "This is treason!" he shouted. "He speaks against the very foundations of our society!"

A tense silence gripped the throne room, broken only by the ragged breaths of the assembled nobles. Mateo's words, sharp and defiant, hung in the air, a stark challenge to the established order. Romona, her face twisted in disgust, shifted uncomfortably in her place among the maids. She had seen enough of the nobles' self-serving arrogance, but this blatant display of entitlement, this attempt to crush a man for the crime of sharing knowledge, was particularly repugnant.

Makus, his face contorted in a mask of righteous indignation, stepped forward, his voice dripping with venom. "Treason!" he repeated, his eyes flashing with malicious glee. "He speaks against the very foundations of our society! This… this rabble-rouser must be silenced!"

He gestured towards Mateo, his jeweled fingers trembling with barely suppressed rage. "He dares to equate the knowledge of our forefathers, the wisdom of generations, with the… the scribblings of commoners! He would have us believe that the pearls of our culture should be scattered among the swine!"

Another noble, Lord Kaelen, a man known for his sycophantic adherence to the status quo, rose to his feet, his voice oily and ingratiating. "Indeed, Your Majesty," he chimed in, his eyes gleaming with self-righteousness. "This man's actions are not merely a crime against property, but a crime against the very essence of our civilization. He threatens to erode the delicate fabric of our society, to blur the lines between those who are worthy of knowledge and those who are not."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the assembled nobles, seeking their approval. "We cannot allow such… such anarchy to prevail. We must make an example of him, a stark reminder of the consequences of defying the established order."

Throughout the vitriolic outburst, Mateo remained unmoved, his gaze unwavering, his expression a mask of quiet defiance. He had seen the worst of their kind, the petty tyrants who clung to their power with fear and desperation. Their words held no power over him.

Then, Lord Theron, the same noble from the previous day, spoke, his voice dripping with condescension. "Imagine, Your Majesty, the absurdity of his claims. He equates the knowledge of our royal library to be of same worth as the scribblings of children. Does he not understand that the books contained in this place is for people who can understand, like us, who have a pure blood line?" He paused, then his eyes narrowed, "He is trying to make our children read the same thing as those from the slums. He's trying to make our children like them." He spat the last word out as if it were poison.

He then did something so disgusting, so utterly devoid of any semblance of decency, that a collective gasp rippled through the court. He stuck out his tongue, a gesture of childish defiance, towards Mateo, his eyes filled with a cruel satisfaction. "Is this what you want, librarian? To make our children like them?"

The sheer pettiness of the act, the blatant display of privileged arrogance, was enough to make Romona's stomach churn. She had witnessed the depths of human depravity, the cruelties inflicted upon the powerless by those who held the reins of power. But this… this was something else entirely. This was a deliberate attempt to humiliate, to degrade, to strip a man of his dignity.