Fritz grasped the hilt of Quicksilver. The cool touch of moonsilver calmed him and stilled the slight tremor of his hand. He straightened his back, squared his shoulders and tilted his chin to force the appearance of pride, then strode through the misty barrier.

Passing through was easy, painless and short. Oddly, it felt both damp and dry, like a cool breeze rather than a fog in truth.

The throne room wasn't the sprawling hall Fritz had expected it would be, though it wasn't small either. It was easily big enough to fit a hundred nobles comfortably, and thrice that if they were packed together tightly. There was a high stone roof whose graceful stone arches culminated in crystal spheres, set in silver circles and hanging above their heads, shedding a soft, blue-tinged light.

That cold illumination covered the entire hall, the overlapping lights suffocated shadows and gave the impression they were at the bottom of the ocean and begging the audience of some great king of the seas. In a way, they were.

Although Fritz knew from his father's words, long ago, that this whole palace was a pale imitation of the one in Antaris, deep below the Antaru Ocean, he couldn't help but be awed by its majesty.

Fritz strode down the centre of the hall, between the rows of stone benches, maintaining a steady gaze ahead. From the corners of his eyes, he could see that only a third of the seats were filled with lavishly dressed nobles, human and merfolk alike. Most of the faces were unfamiliar, though there were a couple he'd recognised, two of which were signatories of his head of house appeal. Others included some he had met while he was carousing and collecting information.

He was glad that many of the benches remained empty. From that, he inferred that there was less interest in, or knowledge of, his hearing than he had dreaded. Though he was more glad that the hall had been drained of water and that he wasn't to be subjected to questions that would be hard to answer, underwater or no.

If the chamber were filled, Fritz would have had to use a Treasure or a magical item to help his words carry, while the merfolk could speak without any hindrance. Their voices were gifted with the power to cross the water as though it were air, something they would usually laud over their perceived lessers.

While he walked, he expected whispers, titters and quiet mocking to follow him as he passed, but the hall remained silent. The sound of his solid strides were the only noise, the tap of his boots echoing off the walls. Worry wriggled within him as he approached the throne and the imposing presence that sat upon all that exquisitely-carved, gleaming gold.

Fritz kept his eyes low. He didn't dare meet the gaze of the King, nor that of any of the Ministers that sat to his sides on lower, less ornate, silver seats. Over what felt like half an hour, but he knew to be a little less than half a minute, he arrived before the throne. He and his family kneeled, taking one knee, staring at the silver dias all that gold sat upon. In that light, its lustre held an icy edge.

In the silence, Fritz waited, still as a stone. Agonising moments passed, his heart beat like he was facing the great hound all over again. Though this foe wasn't starving or mad, just cold.

"Rise, Hightide," the King allowed, his voice a gentle boom. A faraway thunder.

Fritz obeyed, standing swiftly. He didn't trust his limbs not to tremble, so he steadied them with threads of Grace. His siblings followed after, though they kept their heads low while Fritz met the eyes of the King. They were a deep, bleak blue, like the ocean before a storm. His regal face was stern, his features set hard as steel, with silvery scales to match.

His Merfolk Strain had to be more Evolved than any other Fritz had met, as those fine, shimmering slivers covered much of his skin. They were less apparent at a glance, having his skin's same pale colouring, but up close, there was a telltale metallic sheen and slight segmentation.

Below a crown of silver and glowing rainstones, the King's hair was blonde, slicked back and it dripped with water. How it retained its light golden hue while obviously wet was a mystery; perhaps it was merely a feature of his Strain. He sat in his throne as if it were an armchair, not exactly lazing, though not wholly stiff or straight either. Relaxed and regal. That glittering staff of gold, topped with a fist-sized sapphire, was held askew in one strong hand.

His wonderful robes of blue and silver shimmered in the cool light. Of all the fine clothing of the nobility, his was among the only ones devoid of the profusions of lace that had become fashionable of late. The same could be said of Fritz and his siblings, too, though their lack was more a statement of poverty than a political one, as he assumed the King's to be.

Was it that he resented the Empire's influence in Rain City?

A slight frown creased the King's brow, and Fritz immediately lowered his eyes again. When doing so, he scanned the ministers present. To his relief, only two of the eight seats were filled. One of the ministers he knew by reputation if not by sight, Duke Whiteship, Minister of Law. The other was a woman who he thought looked incredibly familiar, yet couldn't place. He knew not what she presided over.

"Lord Hightide, do you know why I have summoned you?" The King asked.

"My King, I have not been granted that privilege," Fritz replied.

Silence followed his words and he worried he'd already made a terrible blunder.

"And I don't intend to presume, Your Majesty," he added, trying to fill the quiet.

"I have summoned you to discuss your appeal," the King announced. "You wish to reclaim the control of your House and endeavour to rebuild its dignity and honour?"

Inwardly, Fritz felt a stab of anger at the inference that his house had no honour, but he kept that emotion off his face and met the King's eyes again.

"That is correct, Your Majesty," he said stoically. "My House has had no head for nearing on a decade. Now that I have come of age, I implore you to return what is due to me by right and blood."

"You believe you are truly due this boon?" he asked dangerously.

Fritz struggled for words for a moment, then decided to rely on the advice provided by his advocate earlier.

"It is your law, your word, that assures that right," he replied. "I only pray you would grant what you have hitherto promised to all of high and noble blood."

Again, silence and a frown, this one more pensive than irritated.

"You are aware that your House has done great harm?" The King asked.

Now that it had come to persuasion, Fritz wondered if he should weave his words with Dusksong, but he dismissed the thought. The Nightshark had a Treasure that glowed when he had employed its entrancing tones. If she had one, then the King, with his enormous wealth and power, would have something like it, possibly one more potent.

"I am aware that my father's mistake has caused a great loss. A greater one than I can truly fathom," Fritz said, trying to keep his tone sincere rather than let it seethe with the affront he felt.

"A great loss?" The king rumbled. "A great loss?"

The hall was deadly quiet. Then the King's voice struck like lightning, filling the throne room.

"I lost my son!"

Fritz flinched despite being prepared for a terrible outburst. He wasn't the only one that did so; a wave of winces rippled over the nobles on the benches and Thea shrank away from the roar. The King's furious, cold eyes turned on her. Instinctively, Fritz moved, stepping in front of his sister and shielding her from his gaze.

It was improper, foolhardy and most of all a challenge. But he met that glare with one of his own. The King was leaning slightly forward, black, thin clouds hovered around his head like a second crown. Fritz didn't need to know the man well to know that this apparition of Awareness was one made of fury and hate.

"It was not my sister, my brother or I who lost him. We have committed no crime against you or this city. We hold only the name of Hightide, not its sin," Fritz declared. "Your Majesty," he added belatedly.

"You contradict me? I should execute you where you stand," the King stated, though much of his wroth had abated, or had been pulled under his control, judging by the dissipation of those clouds.

"I speak truth," Fritz said. "If that is contradiction, then smite me where I stand."

From behind him, he heard a whining sigh of despair from his advocate.

The King raised one hand, the one cruelly pointed finger to point straight at Fritz's heart.

Eyes wide, Fritz fought the impulse to activate his barrier ring, but made absolutely sure his Umbral Phase was ready to react.

"Your Majesty," a dry voice came from the King's right and caused him to pause. Duke Whiteship continued to speak, "The Lord is correct in the matter of the written law. Punishments for an individual's crimes are not inherited, as they are in more barbaric lands. Though, debts may be."

The King, glared for a moment longer, then lowered his hand. "I find that your debt to the crown outweighs any capacity to repay it. House Hightide is henceforth stripped of all lands and titles, and its living members are to face three lashes of the whip. A further nine to the insolent boy."

It was so sudden that Fritz couldn't speak. And that proved a boon as the minister to the left also interceded.

"Your Majesty, would you reconsider?" she asked.

"Why?" he replied in a clipped tone.

"Some privacy is in order," she said.

"Very well."

A wall of fog fell between Fritz and the King and his ministers. He couldn't hear what was said. Though the mist was thick, his eyes were sharp and he was able to glean something from the movement of their silhouettes. From what he could read of their lips, they were having a terse conversation.

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The Minister spoke about how stripping the titles away would appear to the other nobles. She put a keen emphasis on the faction within the Court that apparently supported vassalage to the Empire. She hinted that they may also desire to remove him as their ruler.

"Destroying a long-standing House like the Hightides on a whim would give them proper cause to side against you, Your Majesty," she explained.

"It wouldn't do to break the laws your father laid down," Count Whiteship added. "They have served well for a hundred years, and they separate your righteous rule from the savage Krakosi or the fickle Jastil."

The dire irony of being defended by a man he had burgled once when he was a child wasn't lost on Fritz. Though he found it hard to find it amusing while he was in such a perilous and precipitous position. If they were to strip him bodily as well, they might even find evidence of that crime.

His thoughts led him astray and he missed the last of the conversation in his distraction.

The King nodded, then sighed heavily, though it didn't reach the, now whispering, Court.

The fog fell and silence resumed its reign.

"I rescind my previous decree," the King announced. "And pronounce a new one. House Hightide is to deliver weregild to the Royal family in the amount of thirty thousand gold or adequate goods or Treasures. Then you may take your place as its head, Lord Hightide. Until then, it remains in the possession to whom it had been entrusted."

"Your Majesty?" Fritz asked, dumbfounded both at the enormous price set and the fact that he would still have no control over his House's wealth.

"Are you to contradict me again?"

"No, Your Majesty. Though the debt you have described... it's... overwhelming," Fritz said dejectedly, not having to feign one mote of his despair. "I plead for leniency."

"I have lost my heir. This is leniency. Who could weigh gold against the grief of a father?"

To that pronouncement, there was a soft shuffling of someone standing, then a cough.

"Your Majesty, I may speak to that," A man in the Court said.

Fritz recognised the raspy voice at once, but still turned his head to look at Count Wavereach.

The merfolk noble was looking considerably more hale than the last time Fritz had seen him; his eyes were less sunken and the tremor in his hand was much reduced. Though he still depended on his cane, leaning lightly against it.

"Count Wavereach," the King said, before pausing for a moment. "As your loss is akin to my own, I will allow you to address the Court. Approach."

The Count nodded and moved from the front row of benches to the space before the throne. He began to kneel shakily.

"No need to kneel. Keep your feet, William," the King said in a surprising display of compassion.

The Count obeyed, straightening and smiling gratefully. Perhaps sharing the same sorrow had truly formed an understanding between the men. Wavereach cleared his throat.

"I would ask you to rescind this debt. Such a large sum would drown the House entirely. And as none of its number are blessed with the merfolk Strain, it would surely die," the Count entreated.

Fritz listened and felt a glimmer of honest affection for the nobleman. It was one thing to sign a document, but to stand before the King and make an argument for mercy showed a good heart. Something Fritz had dismissed the man having, due to his station and the waste of House Hightide's wealth.

In that moment, he was glad he had sought the Count out, faced him head-on and spoken to him directly, instead of scheming around him.

The King frowned and leant forward. "Why do you propose I give this unearned forgiveness?"

"What is left of the Hightides had nothing to do with the disappearance of our heirs. It would not do to punish these children."

"Hightide must be punished," the King proclaimed, brooking no argument.

"I do not oppose that judgement. I only plead that you reduce the debt they obviously owe the crown," the Count said.

The King nodded once, coming to a conclusion.

"I will acquiesce to your petition. One third of the original amount will suffice," the King announced.

"My deepest thanks, Your Majesty," the Count said with a stiff bow.

Fritz mimicked the gesture, as did his siblings. Although he felt the 'debt' to be an insult and a cruel cudgel to his ambitions, he knew he was lucky to get off so lightly. Compared to the earlier pronouncements, at least.

"I would also ask one last favour, my king," the Count ventured, still bowing.

"Speak."

"I beg that you allow the lad to take ownership of his House once again. It has become tedious to hold those estates in trust. That, and the revenues have grown thin while their expenses drain my own endeavours to recover our lost sons."

A note of exasperation and pity entered the King's eyes. It seemed that not only Fritz knew that it was a fool's hope. Of course, the King, as the only Expert Climber in the city, would know better than any what not returning from a Spire, especially after all this time, meant.

"I have told you, William, that the beacons they wore lie dead. Their light its dull, diminished," the King said.

"I know," the old Count said wearily. "Though it is not gone and I must try. And thankfully, the young Lord here has agreed to help the search."

The King turned his stern gaze to Fritz. "Is this true?"

"It is, Your Majesty. I will Climb the Rain Spire in due time. And while I do so, I will search for any signs of my father and your lost son."

The King shook his head, then sighed. It was somewhat undignified, but none dared comment on it.

"Very well," he announced. "I will grant you permission to take your rightful place as Head of House Hightide. Unless there is any further objection or endorsement."

The Court was quiet, not a movement or word.

Fritz prayed this was the end of it, that no other horrible complication would come and ruin what he had managed to grasp.

It was not to be.

"I have an objection," a young man's voice called out.

This one Fritz didn't recognise, though it sounded vaguely familiar. All the same, it stoked a fiery hatred in his chest.

"Approach," the King said, waving the speaker forward.

This noble had also been in the front row and strode before the throne before kneeling gracefully.

Now that Fritz had a better look at the objector, he had to hold back a sneer and a scowl. Though the man had evolved his Strain to that of a merfolk, Fritz realised it was one of the nobles from the Mer Spire. The ones he and his team had met, insulted, then seeded a stupid feud with.

Right then, he could have cursed Lauren and Bert, the prime causes of the squabble. But he remembered quickly that those noblemen had been looking for a reason to quarrel and it wasn't truly the fault of his team. No, those two pricks had been searching for an opportunity to take out their anger on those below them due to the shame of being dismissed and ignored by the Empire Prince they accompanied.

That, and Fritz wasn't entirely devoid of blame, having slung a few insults himself.

"Young Lord Whiteship, rise. What is the nature of your objection?"

"This 'Hightide' is not deserving of his Majesty's grace or mercy," he stated.

"And why is that?"

"I unfortunately encountered him while on my Golden Climb. He and his foul team of commoners were vile, rude and their actions and attitudes were atrocious in the extreme. He allowed his 'team' to insult both Lord Gresper and I without rebuke or retribution. The ignoble Lord himself levied many insults at our esteemed personages and the Empire's Prince. It was absolutely unbecoming of a nobleman, especially one who is to lead his House. If you allowed such a 'man' to ascend again, it would reflect poorly on the nobility, the city and the crown itself."

"Is that so? Explain," the King ordered.

The young noble did so, spinning a tale that painted Fritz in a truly terrible light. Vulgar, crude and grasping.

Every word out of the man's mouth caused him to burn with fury. He felt as though he would shout, and could see the waves of anger roiling around him. He seized them as he had done his fear before and that freezing weight fell over him. It prevented any outbursts as the nobleman kept lying and insinuating horrible things about him and his honour.

"You should have seen the way he leered at the Lady Blackbridge. I have no doubt that if we had not been on a sixth floor, they would have done unspeakable things. Though Charles and I would have never let them, of course," Lord Whiteship ended proudly.

"Is the Lord Grepser in attendance?"

"I am, Your Majesty," the other of the two bastards said, standing swiftly, then kneeling before the King.

It was then that Fritz knew that this had been planned. Somehow, they had found out about his appeal and now ambushed him with spurious claims. And at the worst time too, when he had almost escaped with what he needed.

Lord Gresper was allowed to speak and said, "I was there, and every word of Lord Whiteship's tale is the utmost truth. Hightide is a disgrace and your earliest judgement would have been more fitting. In fact, to go further would be just. Uproot this beggar House of miscreants and louts and banish them from Rain City, or at least the Upper Rings."

The King glared down at the two lords. "Don't presume to lecture me on what I should do."

"My deepest apologies, Your Majesty," he said, somehow sinking his head lower.

"While this tale speaks to a flaw in character and company kept, it is hardly matter for which to banish a Lord."

"There is also this, My King," Lord Whiteship said, pulling forth two letters from the inner pocket of his coat. Each had a different wax seal; one was the crest of the Storm Guard, the other was unknown to Fritz.

"And what is 'this'?" he inquired.

"Testimonies and accounts from both the headmaster of the Guild Hall for the Fallen's Fledglings and the Captain of the Storm Guard."

"And why would these commoners' accounts be relevant to this hearing?"

"They paint a portrait of the villainous life this Hightide had lived and portend the disgrace he would bring."

The King waved for a servant to collect the documents from the man, then, when the papers were in his hands, he broke the seals and read the contents, his lips steadily falling into a mask of displeasure.

The whole Court waited while he scanned the pages. It didn't take him long, but to Fritz the minutes were excruciating. The King looked up and handed the documents to his servant, who then delivered them to the Minister of Law.

The King glared at Fritz, watching him closely, then he stared out at the Court. "What I have read is disgraceful indeed. Fleeing justice for an assault, then hiding in the deepest parts of the districts, committing an untold number of petty thefts and disturbing my peace."

Fritz stood still, the heavy cold smothering the fire in his chest. He knew he couldn't let these accusations pass, but his mind moved like a glacier while holding his anger in check with his Control. He took a deep breath and eased that grip. His jaw was clenched and his fist ached from being held so tightly.

Still, he took command of himself.

"Your Majesty, is there evidence of these imagined crimes?" Fritz challenged. "Or is it baseless rumour?"

"Do you deny the major injury you dealt to a caretaker of the orphanage?"

"That I do not deny. Though there was reason, that being defence. She was vicious and inflicted all manner of torments on my brother, my sister and I," Fritz said steadily. "I merely protected my family, my health and my House from the savage hands of a jealous and cruel commoner."

"So you admit to this claim," the King asked. "Why did you not submit to justice?"

"I had no hope for justice. Not that of the Drizzler Captain, whose daughter I had just brought to harm. So I fled. I stand here now, ready to face your rightful judgement on the matter."

"I see. Do you deny these accusations of theft and lawlessness?"

"I would like evidence to be presented, if it exists, rather than the connivingly conjured opinion of a common man who bears me a long, unjust grudge," Fritz professed.

"I remain unconvinced of your purported innocence,"the King judged. He stared out into the Court. "Would any signatories of this appeal like to speak to the character of Lord Hightide?"

Lady Noonsea stood, curtsied and declined to speak before sitting again. Count Tallmast, who had also signed, was not in attendance, which did not bode well. Even Count Wavereach, who had been so well spoken earlier in the trial, shook his head sadly.

"My son wouldn't lie, and these accounts are genuine," Duke Whiteship provided from his minister seat. "If he truly is so unworthy of the Head of his house, perhaps it should be granted to the next in line."

The King nodded.

"Elliot is not of age," Fritz objected. "Your Majesty."

"Then it will have to wait for a couple of years," the King said. "With this credible testament to your low bearing and disgraceful behaviours, I am inclined to delay the return of your estates and authority. Until a worthy heir appears."

Fritz couldn't believe it. Surely the King was wise enough to see this for the farce it was. Or perhaps he simply didn't care. He had wanted a brutal punishment earlier and this was a way to enforce it without losing the support of the Court. There was a gleam of cruel satisfaction in the King's stare. Like that of a cat playing with a mouse. A slight sneer curled his scaled lips.

Had he known? Was this all planned from the start, to give him hope only to snatch it away and watch him despair while humiliating him before the entire Court? Fritz redoubled his hold on his emotions, tight with Control. The cold pressure squeezed him, but he could still feel his blood boiling and his anger slipping free of his grip.

"Liar," Fritz whispered.

"What?"

"I say that Lord Whiteship and his lackey are liars, Your Majesty," Fritz almost spat.

"How dare you!" Both nobles cried.

"Bring in a Truthfinder," Fritz demanded.

"The Truthfinders are indisposed," the familiar minister said.

"And I won't waste their time with such a trifling matter," the King stated. "I have made my judgement. Francis Hightide, your title is henceforth stripped from you, and any title and lands are to fall to the next in line. Lord Elliot Hightide, you are now heir of house Hightide."

Elliot glanced around in a daze, stunned and not at all prepared for such a turn of events. That at least gave Fritz some relief, to know that his brother wasn't also in on this evil ploy.

The King held out his hand to Fritz; he looked on, not knowing what he desired.

"Your Signet Ring."

Fritz's eyes went to his hand and locked onto the silver seal over the dark grey band, then he brought it up as if to take it off. The bottom of his stomach had fallen away. Even while he crushed his despair down, it felt that, if he were to remove the ring, he would die. Thankfully, his eyes weren't tearing up and his vision was clear. For now. He used these last moments to search for any escape, any trick, any possible way to survive.

Elliot stared blankly, reluctant and resigned. Thea couldn't look at him, she was weeping silently. Count Wavereach shook his head sadly.

How had it all turned so badly so quickly?

Lastly, his gaze fell upon his advocate. Mr. Worth was also unable to meet his eye. Or that's what Fritz had thought, until the man met his stare, then lowered his eyes again. He realised that the man was glaring at Quicksilver's hilt.

Did he want him to draw his blade, to fight the King? No, that wasn't it, that was madness. It was something else. Then Fritz remembered. Before the trial, he had asked for what to do when all seemed lost, and the advocate's reply had been simple. It was a privilege that all nobles were possessed of. A last resort.

"I dispute the condemnations made against me and the assault on my character," Fritz stated, his voice growing stronger with every word.

"I demand the right to defend my honour. I demand to duel my accusers!"

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