The dagger flew past his head and landed with a loud thud in his chair's back, only slightly above his left shoulder. One moment later, before Imrahil even had a chance to react, a loud cry was heard as Arantar's dirk pierced Lord Dagnir's chest. The other Council members threw back their chairs and scurried to cling to the walls in fright. Soldiers quickly drew blades and surrounded their prince. Imrahil heard Arantar curse himself. 'How could I have missed the movement? If not for fate, my prince would be dead.' He nodded to his men, then walked over to the dead lord. Arantar had followed and kicked the body viciously. Another curse, this time loud enough for those close to hear, escaped his lips.

"Clear the room. The meeting is adjourned for now," the Swan Knight said brusquely. Some made as if to protest, but the naked hatred in the warrior's eyes caused the lords to leave their papers and run into the hall.

"My Lord," Arantar fell on one knee. "Forgive me. Send me to the farthest outpost. I have failed you."

Imrahil chuckled. His surprise had lifted as soon as the kick was placed. "We need to initiate a search of all when we are in Council, I see. Do you hear them out there?” They both listened for a moment to the shrill, angry shouts of the lords of the Council as they took umbrage at their treatment by the prince of Belfalas. They could hear every word, every invective, every curse.

"They are stupid, pig-headed descendants of wargs!"

"They are not, Arantar. Most are cousins many times removed. The men of Númenor did not travel far when they settled here from Westernesse."

"Then they have married daughters of Orcs!"

Once again, Imrahil laughed. "If you are finished?"

"My Lord!"

"Good. This is a stroke of luck for us. When I told the Council of Ohtar's treachery, I had not thought that Dagnir would be foolish enough to react with violence. One would think it would have been better had he thrown the weapon at Ohtar instead. He could say he did it in a fit of rage over the treason and take suspicion from himself." Imrahil shook his head. "Obviously, neither of them has the slightest sense. It is now time to place Ohtar under arrest. Will you see to that? I will write the order in my study." He began to leave the room, then turned. "Oh! Would you bring Angbor to me? I would speak with him before he hears the news by other means."

"Aye, my Lord." The warrior followed his prince to Denethor's study. 'Odd, I still call it Denethor's study. Hopefully, it will soon be Faramir's study.' His brow creased as he thought of the little band, struggling for help somewhere on the plains of the Mark. 'Where are they? Did Éomund catch up to them? Is this a fool's errand that Indis is leading them on?' He sat at the heavy oak desk, his hand absently stroking it. He stopped. Too many times he had watched Denethor do the same thing. He remembered how fond Denethor was of this desk, made by Thengel and he many, many years past. He hitched his breath and looked up to Arantar.

"As I said in the Council chambers, this is a stroke of luck for us. We should be able to flush out any who were part of this conspiracy. With Ohtar in the dungeons, someone, hopefully, will kill him. Keep the watch small... but keep a hidden guard. If someone does kill him, I want him followed immediately. Also, watch his food. Who knows how they will attack him. Besides that, keep an eye on the Great Gate. See who leaves Minas Tirith in haste. Look for soldiers and nobles. I do not think the common folk would be anything but pawns for the real traitors."

"I will, my Lord. I ordered him held as soon as the hall cleared."

"Good. Here is the order. Take a contingent with you. I do not trust the man. Then put him in the dungeons. If he asks, I will see him in two days time. Then, bring Angbor to me."

"Aye, my Lord."

The warrior bowed and left. Imrahil stared ahead. Again, his brow creased. 'I have heard nothing from father in over a month. I must send a missive to him. Ascertain that all is well in Dol Amroth.' He put a hand to his forehead and rubbed it. 'I think Arantar is correct. The men of Gondor have slept with Orcs.' 

After only a short time, Arantar stood before him again; the young Swan Knight, Angbor, stood next to him, face shining with sweat, eyes filled with unease. Imrahil motioned Arantar to leave them, then motioned for the lad to sit. The boy looked wildly at Arantar, a silent plea in his eyes that even Imrahil could read, then stiffened and sat.

The door shut. “Esquire Angbor,” Imrahil began, hoping to remind the lad that he was in the service of Belfalas, already a Swan Knight, and in dire need of all the strength he could muster for what Imrahil would now have to tell him. He saw the lad stiffen even further, his shoulders thrown back and his face taut.

“Your father has been arrested as a traitor.” He kept his voice even, as if he were speaking to the boy of the duty roster for the day. “He has been taken to the dungeons and will remain there until Steward Faramir or his Regent, the Lady Indis, decides his fate.”

He cursed silently. ‘This is naught that a lad this age should have to deal with!’

He stood and walked towards the door. “You may stay here in Minas Tirith until the decision is made, you may return to your home in Calembel, or you may return to your duties as a Swan Knight of Dol Amroth. I will support you in whatever you chose.”

“I would return to my duties, if that suites my lord. I have been gone too long. You told me, a short time ago, that you have secured my father’s lands and have an overseer looking after them?”

“I have. A trustworthy man who will return them to you when you decide you are ready. I offer this service in token of my regard for you and the regard your captain holds you.”

“Thank you, my Prince.” The boy rose as if to leave, then turned towards the prince. “May I…” He swallowed hard and Imrahil knew what he needed.

“You may visit your father before you leave. He is in the dungeons, Angbor, but he is being treated well. After all, he is a Lord of Gondor.”

“Thank you.” The boy turned and left.

Arantar entered immediately.  “My Prince.” He waited. Imrahil nodded and he continued. “May I… May I take some time off and… Forgive me. Never mind. I will be outside if you need me.”

“Arantar? What is it?”

“Nothing, my Prince.” He turned, his hand on the latch.

Imrahil walked forward and put his hand on the warrior’s arm. “What troubles you? Has word from home come? Your wife, she is with child. Has she had it?”

“I know not, my Prince. Her mother is with her. She will be fine.” A smile creased his captain’s face. “I have never been home for the births of any of my children. This is not unexpected.”

“Then what is it? Do not tell me nothing. We have been together far too long. You are concerned about something.”

“My Prince. I spoke foolishly. We are in a time of great danger. I would not leave you unguarded for anything.”

“I have other guards, Arantar. Tell me what you need. If it is within my power, I will do it for you.”

“I would take two days, my Prince, just two days and ride a little ways with the esquire, Angbor.”

Imrahil sat, stunned. “Whatever for?”

“He reminds me of my son. He knows his father will be executed. How could he not? The long road home will be fraught with sorrow. He needs a friend.”

“You have four days. That should take you well within the borders of Belfalas. Stay with him. Tell him that it is my wish, if you would. I have rarely met a boy with such courage. It is right that, in his greatest need, he has a friend to help him see that.”

Arantar nodded in agreement. “I will return in eight days, my Prince. And thank you!”