"Your Dominion, I have more than two dozen names..."

Adala’s statement set off a fresh wave of exclamations throughout the chamber as everyone from knights to barons or their young heirs found their voices at the same time.

"Who! Who else among my vassals has been targeted by this... this... extortionist!" Baron Tybal said, slamming a meaty fist into the table as his temper boiled over. He’d bowed down to the Inquisition’s threats over the matter with Sir Nurin, in part, to shield the rest of his vassals from the Inquisition’s questions.

But if Valeri Leufroy had been selling out anyone with whom he held a grudge, or anyone he wanted an advantage over in the race for spoils in the coming Holy War, then Tybal was certain that his knights and Loghlan Dunn’s men would have been at the top of the list.

"I swear, I didn’t do anything wrong," a young knight at the Saliou table told his red-faced wife. "Whatever they say about me, I swear, I would never do anything that would hurt you..."

"I want to hear the truth from Baron Leufroy," an older woman said from the Rundel table. "I want to know why my husband abandoned us after the Inquisition visited. What did you tell them about him? What did he do that he... he...."

"Enough," Owain said, standing for the first time since the proceedings began. His powerful voice cleaved through the noise like an axe through dry timber, and when he held up his hand for silence, the room went still.

"Abbot Recared’s conduct is clearly indefensible," Owain said firmly. "I won’t waste time arguing otherwise. If I’d realized the extent of his wickedness and corruption, I never would have granted him such an honored place among us tonight."

"You disappoint me, Recared," Owain said, as though it were some kind of great tragedy. "We should be fighting demons together, but look at this now," he said, gesturing to the turmoil among the noblemen. "I cannot defend a man who causes so much chaos."

"Nor can I allow more chaos to unfold tonight because of the Inquisition’s misdeeds," Owain continued. "Lady Adala, I will have those names from you, but not now, not in this hall where so many may hear and misunderstand."

"But..." she started to protest, only for Owain to speak over her.

"It isn’t my intention to silence you," Owain said, offering the young noblewoman a reassuring smile that never quite reached his eyes. "Only to protect the reputations of the good noblemen and women here until we can discover the truth."

"It’s the same with these notebooks that Inquisitor Percivus and Abbot Recared have compiled," Owain said, turning his disapproving gaze on the abbot. "The methods employed by your men are too extreme. People may confess to things that are not true. Who’s to say which things in those notebooks are true and which are distorted, incomplete, or outright lies?"

"I offer you a path to mercy, Recared," Owain said. "Surrender the notebooks to me, and I can spare your life and the lives of your men," he promised. "You can earn back the trust of the people when the time comes to purge the demons from our lands. For now, I will have these notebooks thoroughly investigated."

"The innocent have nothing to fear," Owain promised, looking from Serle Otker to the other noblemen at the high table. "And the guilty will be punished for their crimes."

At the High Table, Serle Otker’s eyes narrowed while sweat rolled down his brow. He could see what Owain was doing: trading the Abbot’s life for access to every secret the Inquisition had ever collected, which would give him leverage over every knight and baron in the march for a generation or more. It was, Serle had to admit, exactly the move he would have made in Owain’s position if he’d ever had the chance.

And that was exactly the reason he could never let it happen... Before he could think of a way to shut down their new Marquis, however, someone else made their position clear.

"No," Ashlynn said flatly. "Absolutely not"

She stood as she spoke, but she went further than that, walking away from Owain to circle around the end of the table as she moved toward the short steps leading down from the dais.

"No?" Owain said, raising his brow at the woman he understood less and less with every passing moment. "You cannot deny the people their right to justice, Ashlynn," Owain said, resting one hand on the pommel of Fallen Claw as he spoke.

The instant his hand touched the hilt of his sword, Sir Gilander tensed, nodding briefly to his lord as his hand found its way to the hilt of his own weapon. All around the Great Hall, men whom Gilander had deemed trustworthy did the same, preparing themselves for the moment they were ordered into action.

Owain, however, kept speaking, as though this was still just a difference of opinion between a husband and wife while the Lothian Court deliberated.

"Whatever methods the Inquisition used, it’s almost certain that those notebooks contain very real evidence of wrongdoing by some of the most powerful people in the march," Owain said. "As their Marquis, I owe it to my people to see that the guilty are punished."

"If the abbot cooperates," he added with a pointed look at the battered priest. "And if his men fight well on the front lines against the demons who threaten our borders even now, then..."

"No," Ashlynn interrupted as her patience rapidly frayed. She’d seen and heard enough. More than enough. Her heart hammered in her chest with the nearly overwhelming need to do something, to take action instead of continuing this charade...

She’d meant to win over the Lothian Lords. She’d believed that many of them were reasonable men who could help her rebuild their war-torn region into something greater... Something worth fighting to protect instead of fighting endlessly to expand.

A few seemed worthy. Erling Fayle. Wes Iriso. Loghlan Dunn. Others among the barons disappointed her greatly, though she had some hope for their wives, daughters or heirs.

But Ashlynn’s restraint was a fragile thing made of thin glass, and the combination of Abbot Recared’s ruthless manipulation of the march for the Inquisition’s benefit and Valeri Luefroy’s active contributions to the scheme struck what was left of her restraint like twin hammer blows.

"Some things, husband, can never be permitted to endure," Ashlynn said as she turned to face the High Table. "Like a vine wrapping around a tree, they’ll siphon away your strength, and bind you tighter and tighter until you’re dragged down, helpless under their weight."

"Is this how you want to live?" Ashlynn asked the nobles of the Court. "With the Inquisition choking the life from you with every breath? Or would you prefer to trade their open threats and intimidation for my husband’s velvet gloves?"

"Because I promise you," Ashlynn said, locking eyes with Owain from a mere dozen paces away. "Underneath those velvet touches, you’ll find brutal, relentless force. If you won’t yield to the soft pressure that flows from notebooks full of tainted secrets, as long as he thinks you’re weak, he won’t stop until he’s dumped your body in a grave..."