“Very well, Your Grace.” The magistrate addressed Tristam. “You will resume your normal Red Shield duties after your release. Any special tasks you’ve been undertaking for the Defense Minister are, of course, suspended until we are sure of his role in this matter.”
The magistrate gathered his things and left, followed by the Red Shield guards. The door clicked shut behind them, and Tristam didn’t move as he waited for Willem to speak.
Willem fixed a stern gaze on Tristam. “I won’t keep you long. I know you’ve never been fond of me or my policies.” He brushed away Tristam’s clumsy attempt at contradicting him. “I simply want to suggest you keep an open mind. You must realize by now that your commander is accused of some very serious lapses in judgment.”
Lapses that perhaps could have been avoided had Tristam and Kyra been more forthright about what she was. Something twisted in Tristam’s stomach. Had they been wrong to keep the secret from Malikel?
“What direction do you see for Forge?” asked Willem. “Do you share Malikel’s goals, giving handouts to the poor, fighting their battles for them? Your father and your brothers patrol your family manor every day at great personal risk. Why shouldn’t the common people help defend the lands?”
Tristam gave grudging credit to Willem for bringing up his family. The thought of losing Henril or anyone else was hard even to consider. “We believe it our duty, Your Grace, to take those risks.”
Willem gave a hard smile. “That’s admirable, but have you ever considered that it might be an empty endeavor? Truth is, we could clear out the Palace treasury and sacrifice all our lives to serve the needy, yet the poor will still remain. Malikel caters to the tenderhearted, but he picks a fight he can’t win. Meanwhile, he takes resources from initiatives that could make real change. Forge could be great. We could make Forge a city to be remembered in the history books, and everyone within it would prosper.”
Everyone, or simply those in a position to benefit directly? Tristam didn’t voice his thoughts.
Willem picked up the parchment from the table. “You may go, but I hope you’ll think on what I said. How much will you sacrifice for those who may not deserve it?”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
Right before Tristam reached the door, Willem spoke again. “That’s a nasty bruise you have on your jaw, Tristam.”
Tristam paused, his hand hovering above the doorknob. The spot on his chin where Kyra had struck him was still tender to the touch. “It’s getting better,” he said.
“It’s a rare sort of creature who would cause such harm to a supposed friend.”
Tristam left without replying. He half expected the soldiers outside the door to tackle him, but they only watched him pass.
The courtyard outside resembled a market more than the Palace grounds. Throngs of citizens lined up in front of harried scribes to enlist in Willem’s new army, pushing past one another in their impatience to get through the wait. They were a far cry from the disciplined Red Shields who usually lined up within these walls. Conscripting new soldiers had caused problems in the Palace, and the difficulties didn’t just stem from the recruits themselves. Word was that the record-keeping was sloppy as well. Several groups of citizens had already been called back because harried scribes had misplaced their records. The Palace simply wasn’t equipped to handle an influx of so many new soldiers at one time.