by MJ Blehart
“I am,” Cam replied without hesitation. “I know without a single doubt that from this moment til we meet the Army of Medaelia, our paths are one in the same.”
Chapter 32
Sir Tulock Oran was surreptitiously avoiding his office.
Upon his desk was nearly triple the regular amount of paperwork. Since being named Regent, his duties had increased exponentially. Claiming he needed to find something in Varlock-Sharron’s study, Tulock had used one of the King’s secret passages to go into hiding, wandering about the lesser traveled sections of the castle.
The King had been gone for nearly three days, now. Tulock was not accustomed to being unaware of the King’s whereabouts, and this made him nervous. But Varlock-Sharron had insisted that this was the only way, and he trusted in Cam Murtallan, the mysterious Sorcerer, to not lead him astray.
Tulock, of course, had his doubts. But he knew better than to question his friend at such a time as this. He accepted the situation...but he didn’t have to like it.
He checked around a corner, and found the hallway before him deserted. Tulock was presently wandering the servants’ sleeping quarters…which, given the time of day, would be empty. He crossed the hall, coming to a doorway. Before him was a spiral staircase that would go up to the archer’s slots of the outer wall, or down to the smithy. He paused to consider which way to go, again thinking about his present predicament.
Regent. He did not want to even remotely ponder the concept of being the King of Sharron. It was not a position he had ever craved, or even aspired to. Probably just the reason Varlock-Sharron had chosen him for it.
So now they addressed him as Regent, like it or not. Wherever he went, he had guards posted to him. People and business seemed to need his attention every waking hour. Thus Tulock found himself relying more and more on his chief deputy, Lord Norvil Rivarr.
Who just happened to be standing in the doorway.
“How did you find me?” queried Tulock softly.
“Begging your pardon, Regent, but you cannot escape your duties all day,” responded the Deputy Seneschal. “We surmised that you would go where you could be alone for a while…and Lady Ara thought the time to yourself might do you some good.”
“I never really got away at all, did I?”
“I am afraid not, Sir Tulock.”
“One could hope. So what is it, Norvil?” asked Tulock, resigned to his fate.
“Regent, there has been a request or two delayed for several days now that require your attention. Normally, they are the direct purview of the King, but as he is not here, and you stand in his stead...”
Tulock sighed discontentedly. “Which?”
Lord Norvil took up a scroll, and unrolled it, reading quickly. “Baroness Aeria Val-Cara wants a formal decree of divorce from her husband, Baron Tilroan. She wants it from the King, however, so she may lay claim on the Barony therein. She also wants to make it known that she is in complete disapproval of her husband’s activities, and wishes to disclose information as such. She also wants Royal Protection following said disclosure.”
Tulock rubbed his temples, walking past his Deputy and down the hall. “How long ago was this request made?”
Lord Norvil perused the scroll further. “Uh...the day after Royal Commission was formally Invoked.”
Tulock grunted. “Might’ve saved us some trouble if we’d heard her out beforehand. Is she here?”
Lord Norvil nodded his head.
“Fine. Tomorrow. Early afternoon. In the throne room, but we make it private. You get the staff, by the way.”
Lord Norvil smirked. “You don’t want to stand beside the throne for this one?”
Tulock gave his deputy a harsh look. “Norvil, I’m not amused at all here. I have done everything I can to avoid the throne, and everything this new position implies.”
Lord Norvil shrugged. “Duty is duty, Regent.”
Tulock shook his head. “Of course. Anything else I need attend to?”
Lord Norvil rolled up the scroll again. “Uh, no, aside from a call for Court. That, you are aware, is at your discretion.”
Tulock rolled his eyes. “You want to pester me about that, too?”
Lord Norvil shook his head. “No, Regent. I don’t blame you for avoiding a call to court. Too formal. You wish to perform your duties away from the public eye, and I certainly understand that.”
“How would you handle this in my position?” queried Tulock.
Lord Norvil considered his answer a moment. “I come from a lower noble house, that has been a part of Sharron’s civil services for almost two-hundred years. My father served one of the Council, as did his father before him. We have not risen to a higher position now since the time of Gara-Loros Anduin. But we are content to serve as we do.”
“Truly?” asked Tulock, taken aback at his deputy’s candor.
Lord Norvil grinned. “Once, my family aspired to take a Barony. We were edged out by the Kall family. We are not in such a place because we do not play by their rules. We don’t commit backstabbing, or attempt to topple our peers, to better our place. We have served well and quietly for a long time now. We hold title, some excellent land in Tilroan’s Barony, and respect. That is enough. Of course we aspire for more, but who does not? I had wanted the best for my daughters, and my son...”
They reached a fork in the hallway, and Lord Norvil stopped a moment, his eyes going distant. “My son. I’ve heard he has likely joined the accursed Falcon Raiders. I had such high hopes for him, and…well, that’s all for that.”
Tulock observed without comment as Lord Norvil paused, changing his thought. “Oh, in answer to your question - I believe I’d handle the situation as you are. My Father once told me, ‘Great men are not those who believe themselves great, but those others see as such. Never fool yourself, for there are others who will know you true.’ You are such a one, Regent.”
“I thank you, Lord Norvil,” Tulock responded. “That means much, coming from a great man like yourself.”
Lord Norvil bowed, and went off down the left fork.
Tulock went down to the right, and was immediately greeted by a saluting pair of guards.
They headed towards Tulock’s office. He had strayed long enough, his head was clear, it was time to return to work.
Lady Ara was standing in the doorframe, looking unusually pleased.
“What can I do for you, Lady Ara?” asked Tulock, stopping before her, trying not to sound at all put out.
“A messenger has just arrived from the King,” remarked Lady Ara. “I think you shall find his news interesting. I took the liberty of calling the Council.”
Tulock eyed her. “You’re wearing the same sly look Sir Garvol is so fond of. What’s going on?”
Lady Ara’s face broke into a bemused grin. “Come with me. You are going to love this.”
They walked through the halls, and came upon Lady Marna and Constable drey-Sharron, waiting outside the Council chambers.
“Lady Ara told the guards to keep us out until the Regent arrived,” said Lady Marna with obvious curiosity.
Tulock rolled his eyes. “Is that so?”
He gestured, and the guards admitted everyone into the room.
Seated facing out the window, four guards around him, was the messenger.
“What news of the King?” asked Sir Tulock.
The messenger stood, and turned to face them.
“Baron Dovan?” questioned Tulock with surprise.
He appeared ragged and tired, his eyes drawn. His hair was a mess, and his clothes travel-stained. But Baron Ren Tir-Laras Dovan was unmistakable.
“Regent,” he intoned, bowing deeply. “I come directly from the King, as he requested. I bear many messages.”
“Prove it,” commanded Sir Tulock.
The Baron inclined his head towards scrolls laid out on the table. “These were signed by King Varlock-Sharron, and imprinted with his signet ring.”
Tulock looked, and saw a
number in the top corner of each. He lifted the first and noted the wax seal, imprinted with the King’s signet ring. Sir Tulock broke the seal, unrolled the scroll, and read.
“From his Majesty, King Varlock-Sharron Anduin, etc. etc...
Tulock,
I am, as you will be pleased to note, alive and well.
The situation has changed. We have come to a resolution that will be beneficial to myself, Sharron, and the Falcon Raiders. The following scrolls contain important orders, as well as information as to the new status of Princess Lyrra-Sharron and the Falcon Raiders. Carry these out as soon as possible, as the fate of the Kingdom may be riding upon them. Also note, Baron Dovan is now at your direct disposal. Time is short. Move swiftly.
Regards,
Varlock-Sharron”
The lack of formality, as well as the signature so familiar, and the wax imprint of the signet ring was enough to convince Tulock of the authenticity of the message.
“Intriguing. Baron Dovan, what happened?”
Baron Dovan appeared nervous. “It should be explained in the scrolls.”
Tulock crossed his arms. “I’m sure it is. Now tell me what you saw.”
The Baron launched into a detailed account of the interruption of the final meeting of the Falcon Raiders by Varlock-Sharron and the Sorcerer. He explained the orders given to both him and Baron Foltupp.
Dovan concluded his exposition. “I rode here as fast as I could, almost killed my horse. The King...he spared us, for now. I am, as I have stated, at your disposal, Sir Regent. Do with me as you will.”
Tulock gave it a moment’s thought. “You will remain under house arrest, in the palace. You’ll be fed, and given a chance to bathe. Guards, see to this. Then find him a room in the ambassadorial wing. Keep him under constant surveillance. When he is needed, he’ll be sent for.”
The guards saluted, and escorted the slumping Baron from the chambers.
Tulock was seated, and took up the next scroll. Lady Ara was examining the first.
“Definitely the hand of Varlock-Sharron,” she commented, passing the scroll to Constable drey-Sharron.
“Undoubtedly. Where’s Captain-General Callan?” question Tulock.
“Here, Regent. I was meeting with my command staff,” said Ov Callan, entering the Chambers.
Tulock passed the second scroll to him. “Orders from His Majesty. As many as you can spare, best speed, to meet him en route to the battle field.”
Ov Callan took the scroll, and read it over. “He has nearly three-hundred Baronial Guardsmen? What happened?”
Tulock was going over the third scroll, so Lady Ara filled the Captain-General of the Guardsmen in.
“Amazing,” Ov Callan responded. “So what are the Falcon Raiders doing? Disbanding?”
Tulock’s eyes went wide, and he appeared to re-read the third scroll. He sat back, shaking his head.
“Unbelievable,” he commented. “That’s quite a plan!”
“What is it?” queried Ov Callan.
Tulock passed him the note, saying nothing further.
Ov Callan read over the scroll, then began to chuckle. “I’ll be damned. When she changes sides, she does not mess around. More like her father the older she gets…” He passed the scroll to Lady Ara.
“The Falcon Raiders are on our side now?” asked Lady Marna, still obviously stunned by the change.
“So it seems,” remarked Lady Ara, still reading.
“What of the Common?” asked Constable drey-Sharron.
Tulock was shaking his head, reading another scroll. “They will be informed of what’s transpired. This plot is getting thicker all the time.” He passed the letter to Constable drey-Sharron.
Tulock read the final scroll. “So now we know what’s coming next. Captain-General Callan, you have soldiers to deploy.”
Ov Callan sat back in his chair. “Regent, request permission to lead them myself?”
“Denied,” replied Tulock. “I can’t have the entire Council out and about.”
“I can’t argue with that, Regent,” continued Captain-General Callan. “But normally, I would lead the King’s Personal Guardsman. That is my duty.”
Sir Tulock looked to the others, took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “Who stands on Council, and in the palace, in your place?”
“Captain Quinn Milvora, Regent. He’s my best second.”
“Recently promoted, from the training camp? I don’t know him, but I trust your judgment. Permission granted. Go now.”
Captain-General Callan stood, bowed to Tulock, and left.
“Who has gone to Admiral Trem-Sharron?” asked Lady Ara.
“He only just arrived here this morning,” remarked Constable drey-Sharron. “He’s resting. A guard will be sent to him now. You want him sent to your office, Regent?”
“No,” remarked Sir Tulock. “I have a message to deliver to Lord Norvil Rivarr. I want time to take care of that. Lady Ara, Lady Marna, would you please see to the Admiral?”
“Yes, Regent,” responded Lady Ara.
“We have work to do. We’ll meet again tonight, after supper. Until then, you’re dismissed.”
Sir Tulock went to his offices, to find Lord Norvil. The King had included a private message for Tulock to deliver to him specifically. Work Tulock would be pleased to do.
At least he knew his King was alive…and heading for the battlefield. Tulock hoped fervently the King would survive. He was a good friend, after all. Besides, Tulock looked forward to hearing the whole story he’d just read over from Varlock-Sharron himself.
Sir Tulock Oran, Seneschal, and now Regent of Sharron, went about his duties. Delivering good news made for a welcome change.
*****
Speaker Erlonn Broyva had just recessed the Common for the midday meal. He was tired, and a bit nervous. His call to Lyrra-Sharron to account before the Common was unanswered, and the arrival of Sir Garvol, Warlord, with word of the King’s current actions, left him uneasy.
He reached his office, and sat down. A stack of scrolls, various requests from members of the Common, were untouched. He felt utterly distracted by the situation before him.
Erlonn Broyva was not fond of keeping secrets. He was no spy, no opportunist, and certainly not a political strategist. He’d not maneuvered his way to his position. He was here by popular acclaim, unusual as that was. To his own credit, he was still shocked at his own popularity.
Sir Garvol strolled into his office.
“Speaker Broyva,” he said with a respectful nod of his head.
“Sir Garvol,” he responded. The man always made him nervous for some reason.
“It’s been a long time since I sat in on a Common meeting. Are they always so tedious?” questioned Sir Garvol.
“No more so than Council meetings, I imagine,” remarked Speaker Broyva, not looking up from a scroll he was reading.
A guard knocked on the doorpost.
“Yes?” asked the Speaker.
“Speaker Broyva, a messenger from the King has arrived. He says it is urgent that he sees you.”
“Send him in,” said Erlonn Broyva.
The guard gestured. Another pair of guards escorted a worn-out looking travel stained man.
Sir Garvol looked quizzically at the man before them.
The Speaker gazed at the messenger closely. He looked somewhat familiar. “I recognize the face, but the name?”
“Baron Yarman Foltupp, Speaker,” said the man softly.
Erlonn Broyva bowed his head briefly to his peer, but didn’t let the amazement he felt show. The man before him was the very opposite of the reports he’d heard about the Baron. Loud, opinionated, over-confident, self-righteous. The man before him appeared quiet, nervous, and down-right uncertain.
“What messages have you of the King?” asked Sir Garvol, before Erlonn Broyva could speak.
The Baron took a scrip from his side, and opened it, producing several scrolls. A guard took them, and carried them to the Sp
eaker. They were numbered. He took up the first, broke the seal, and unrolled it.
“From His Royal Majesty, King Varlock-Sharron of the House of Anduin, Eleventh King of the House, Guardian of the Kingdom of Sharron, Keeper of the Keys of Justice, General-Master of the Army of Sharron, Baron of the Anduin Provinces, Second Prince of Medaelia,
Unto Speaker Erlonn Broyva of the Common of Sharron do we send Greetings.
Speaker Broyva,
It is my pride to inform you that the Falcon Raider problem has reached a conclusion without the shedding of blood. Instead, my daughter, Princess Lyrra-Sharron, and her companions have sworn allegiance to the Crown, and serve so directly. Please share these scrolls with Sir Garvol, who will explain this situation in it’s entirety to the whole of the Common. I would come to you myself were a battle not about to begin on our Medaelian border. The following scrolls are for yourself and the Order of the Common, an explanation of the present circumstances, which are not to be fully disclosed to the whole of the Common at this time. I will speak with you directly when the opportunity presents itself. Finally, know that Baron Yarman Foltupp is at your direct disposal, an explanation of such does follow. For your outstanding service to Kingdom, Crown and Common, Speaker, you will be rewarded.
Done by our hand,
Varlock-Sharron Anduin, Rex”
Below the signature, a drop of wax was impressed with the signet ring of the King of Sharron. Speaker Broyva considered the message a moment, then offered the scroll to Sir Garvol, who took it, and began to read. Erlonn Broyva looked at his messenger.
“What happened, Baron Foltupp?” he questioned.
The Baron looked uncomfortable, but told the tale of the Barons joining the Falcon Raiders, the presentation of the Sorcerer and the King, and all that followed, including the traitorous acts of the late Baron Tilroan.
“We were completely unaware of what he had done,” stated Baron Foltupp in conclusion. “If we had known...if we had known, we would not have followed him.”
Sir Garvol was shaking his head. “You must have realized that Tilroan has always been an arrogant opportunist. What were you thinking?”
The Speaker showed agreement with Sir Garvol’s statement. “You are lucky enough the King has spared you, your Excellency. For now, you will be given food, a chance to clean up, and rest. I’ll call for you when I need you.”