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"Lord Berenger."
The Regent's dark, low voice reached him through the crowd. He turned, a polite smile on his face, hands clasped behind his back. He knew this was coming. Lady Vannes warned him about this. Hers was over and her already limited power was shrunk. Not that it stopped the lady in anything. Berenger believed she supported the prince not just for political reason, she also was fascinated that she found someone as stubborn as she was.
She did left the Arles after that and it was rumoured she was riding with the true king of Vere and his Akielon supporters.
Berenger saw the benefit of her strategy, but he needed to risk a bit more. He needed to be there to be able to make the right decision seeing what steps the Regency cast. He wanted to be ready, if and when the prince would return.
"Your Highness," he greeted the man, who with one stretch of an arm indicated they could discuss matters privately a bit farther away. With two of his guards following them, just in case.
The balcony was empty. He felt cornered but his eyes were open, he was a loyal servant of the crown, they told. He even said that aloud to various people. Everyone understood he meant the prince not his uncle, yet as it could be ignored by other, it wasn't likely the Regent felt the same way. He knew that was the moment he had to play the tricks he hated oh so much, he had to act the way Ancel was so keen on teaching him, saying things he found disgraceful.
The sun was setting, painting the rooftops of Arles in orange. At that moment he hardly appreciated the view. He was aware the consequences. If he misspoke they would be lethal. He accepted that with cold indifference he usually saw in his prince.
"I wanted to ask you about my…," the Regent sighed, like it caused him great deal of pain to talk about his traitor nephew. It seemed genuine. He forced himself to remember what a cruel and disgusting, what a coward of a man the Regent truly was. "About Laurent," he said face hardening, a man bearing himself not to show the emotions he faked. Like he made himself remember to put the cases of his country before his love for his nephew.
Berenger wanted to take a step back. Standing next to this man had certain effect. It filled him and presumably the other supporters of the prince with anxiety, doubt and if you were a man, not a worm, anger that won over the former emotions.
Berenger refused to rise to the bait. He was likely to be punished either was, he didn't need to test his luck. At that moment he might not be accused of treason and stripped of everything he had and hanged. He thought about Ancel, then hardened himself. It was awful but Ancel knew the consequences and what ever happened the boy didn't deserve a coward as a partner.
"I thought I know him," the Regent started looking out, gaze on the town of Arles. He perfectly captured the image of a man mourning a lost child. Berenger did not took his eyes away from the man. He wanted to catch the darkness hidden deep inside the Regent. Sometimes he had the urge to shake the man and yell at him to be honest, not to fake it, to show some respect, to show he wasn't really that monster who would be able to destroy his own blood for power. He restrained himself.
"I thought I could help him, I could make him into a real king. He had so much potential. I wanted...," his voice got caught on false emotions. Like he was concerned. Berenger had a faint and frightening idea. The Regent was playing this game for his own amusement. He enjoyed to see people force themselves as he pleased, to see those supporters, those good men take those insults, to force them to act sorry for him. He wanted to catch them laughing at his own ridiculousness. "I wanted to stand next to him as he was crowned, a king that was worth wearing his father's crown, even if it was supposed to be his brother's.
The theatre reached its turning point. The lead was now passed to him as the Regent turned to him. He would not be intimidated, he decided gingerly. He thought about humiliation and torture but stopped as he only managed to infuriate himself more.
"It must be hard for you, Your Highness" he said. He heard how his voice lacked emotions. He never wanted to believe Ancel that he always sounded bored, but maybe it could've helped him then. If he always sounded uninterested this scene would make no difference.
"It is," he stated softly. It was hard to stand the blue of his eyes. If he turned it into a starring contest, Berenger would lose without question but he controlled himself. If he had no other choice, he wanted to make it clear, he wasn't someone the Regent could buy. He was taught the way of performances, he could play theatre with him. He would never kneel for him, but he could swallow his pride to pretend like that was what he was doing. He wasn't a man who gave respect to titles but he blinked deliberately and made it clear he wanted to play like he had no idea what was going on. He had no intention of turning his gaze away.
His sister had money hid away and a faked cold relationship with Berenger. Ancel and his house servant had horses and gold prepared for them in case they needed to run. He had people who would inform the three of them of the news, before the Regent's men could. He made the necessary preparations in case these were his final moments. Or if any time they decided he needed to be beheaded for supporting the only truth that could be supported at the rotten court.
"I thought I know him, but maybe I was fooling myself. Maybe others know him better," Regent said, voice losing some of its pain, filling it instead of pretended interest and hope. Berenger understood how this was going to go, still he refused to talk until he was asked. Playing dense made the Regent furious inside, he hoped.
"You are closer to him at age, you share his interest." Statement, not a question. "You were his friend." It was a lie. The prince, thanks to his uncle, couldn't afford to have friends. "I believe you were a candidate to his court. Could you...," another pained sigh. Berenger's fingers tensed behind his back. His back to the city, no one could see it. "Tell me how to understand him. I'm not asking as your superior, I am asking as a man who is unable to accept that the betrayal by his nephew was without reason. I must not see it clearly."
That was partially true. The Regent did not understand it. He did not understand how winning a battle did not mean winning the war. How humiliating the crown prince, cutting him off of his income, destroying his credibility in those he wouldn't seek the truth didn't mean he won it. That there was still a stone that did not crumble, a golden prince, who would not fall down. That the stone was supported by thousands even if they were silent. If they had to lurk in the dark, if they had to make horrible sacrifices, they stood with the only thing that matter, the truth. They would always stand with a good man who had flaws instead of a man who sold himself as perfect just to hide the terrible things that happened by his hands.
He hoped his chest wasn't heaving. He had the fortune of practising how to fake indifference while his inside was roaring, during every single meeting of the court since the prince left the town.
"I think," he started carefully, disguising it as thoughtful, "he is not lost. I believe he was just misguided by everything that happened to him. He had to take the weight of a position he was not destined to take. He had to learn too much, while still grieving his father and brother."
"I think," he went on, false words pouring out of his mouth, act hidden in a manner he hoped was convincing, even as there were a part of him that wanted to tell the Regent his honest thoughts, "he was deeply hurt when he realised what he needed to do." He wanted to look dumb, a man who believed the Regent wasn't cruel enough to destroy his nephew, a man who thought forgiveness was possible, inevitable even that things would go easily if the prince was to wonder back.
"I think, he was humiliated as he realised he fell in love with his brother's killer." Not like it happened that way. Still. Berenger felt the true killer of both Aleron and Auguste was the Regent. He was the one who made their memory a mockery. Mockery of honesty, of power of those who took the responsibility with it, who were worthy of it. What happened to Laurent was disgusting because he was corrupted by the real killer of those who he adored.
"I think, he can't think clearly at the moment. I think now he sees betrayal everywhere, paranoia soaked into his blood. I think he is scared and furious. I think he feels like he was abandoned by everyone. I don't think he understand that as a king he will have to make hard decision all by himself. I don't think he understand why you punished him, that it was for him to learn."
"I think, he feels you left him to the mercy of the Akielon, who does not treat his heart right. But that man, he could control, in an awful sense, with his body." It was disgusting what he said and perfect. That's what the Regent wanted everyone to repeat. He wanted to hear it from his own supporters, but not from his nephew's supporter, for it was clear, they lied to his face without flinching. People got publicly hanged for these, he thought, mildly bothered.
"I know he is a good man." It was also a statement. Berenger said like it was evident to the Regent too. "I know he will willingly pay for his mistakes and redeem himself in the eyes of his nation." The main faked concern of the Regent at that moment was that the prince lost his credibility, that's what he used to undermine what was left of Lauren's good name. There was still left some of it, growing with every passing day as things could not be hidden, awful things that proved the treachery of the Regent. "I think he will be back without soldiers or Akielon troops. He will, instead bring a secured friendship between nations, bringing proof that he takes his status seriously, that he could and will be a good king."
He saw that the Regent was listening intensely, like what he just said was interesting for him, relevant in some ways. Like this was what he wanted to hear, that his nephew will be alright. Like he was not a worm.
"You will be able to make him into the King he needs to be, if you and the nation can forgive him," he stated with confidence of a peace-loving man.
He desperately wanted to add that the Regent already made him the king he needs to be. That it was him who taught him how to defend the innocent, the beaten, the one who had no voice or power.
What he wanted, was to congratulate. He wanted to say that the Regent was the living example of how violent, rotten-minded man helped to create their own downfall. It was precise. He helped Berenger and Vannes, he helped the poor of Vere, the common people of the country, because he made their decision easy.
He didn't say those. He already said what he wanted.
The word Regent was never equal with the word King.