Captain Oswin stopped at the end of the hall that led to the Queen's chambers and leaned against the corner. This was the original position the Queen's guard were supposed to take, one many did take as few desired to accidentally overhear the girl's conferences between Queen Anne and her maid. Tristen had always been an oddity though, ever since he had come to think of the girl almost as his own. No, not girl, woman now, and she had been for some time. Oswin was going to have to get used to that.
Tristen took the place on the opposite side, the look on his face akin to an old hound dog that had been left out of the hunt. "Who was on watch last night?" Oswin questioned.
Tristen sighed. "I took over for Sir. Bran at the midnight hour. Saw no one until you approached. Nicoli was supposed to take over for me . . ."
"Happy coincidence indeed," Owsin tried to hide his amusement. Unsuccessfully by the glare he was sent a moment later.
" . . . Then he was to switch with Jorm at noon, and return for third watch at the dinner hour."
"Then by all means let us keep that schedule, save only this. I will take Nicoli's watch now, and he will take my place on forth watch tomorrow."
Tristen's eyebrows about climbed off his forehead. "Giving him that shift as a double-- You're encouraging this?"
"We cannot prevent it and considering the alternative I do not think we should try," Oswin explicated. "Therefore it is our duty to help things go as smoothly as possible. Go home to your wife and children, get some rest, and convince yourself of whatever you need to in order to get over your reservations. All things considered, she chose for herself far better than many would have chosen for her."
Anton looked up from his breakfast when he heard the knock on his door. It was a small meal and he was seated by himself going over what looked like a folder of documents as Lampkin hovered nearby. At the end of the table was an empty place setting that had obviously been meant for Anne.
Lampkin felt a certain thrill as Dotty entered. her liveliness and her bed had long since chased any thought of the queen from his mind, and chased it away so thoroughly that he often wondered what he was thinking. He knew most of what she told him were lies, but then he was hardly honest with her anyway. The King's man was hardly honest with anyone. Perhaps had things been different, but they were not.
Anton raised an eyebrow as she entered and delivered the missive, but took the note and chuckled at its contents.
"Punishing me. No doubt for my manner of proposal, with the silent treatment," he chucked as he handed the note over his shoulder to Lampkin. "Very good forgery by the way, was it your doing?" and his eyes pierced hers over the cup of tea he had raised to his lips. "You could give Lampkin a run for his money if it weren't for the hesitation marks in the "A"s. Very near what I have seen of her hand. Would you care to deliver a note in return for me?" Lampkin barely looked at the note except to admire Dotty's skill. He simply crossed the room and set it aside on the king's writing table, picking up a case of pens and ink that sat there.
Anton snapped his fingers and Lampkin brought over the writing case almost as soon as his lord's hand had returned to the goblet, which the king immediately drained before pulling a bit of clean parchment and beginning his note. "And this time there will be someone to attest to the fact that I did pen it myself." It took a few moments, but eventually the paper had been scrawled over in a fine hand that almost exactly matched the one Lampkin had written, and then signed, folded neatly into thirds, and sealed with wax exactly the color of warm chocolate.
"When she is no longer sore with me ask her to open that, be it days or hours. It's not quite as romantic as Lampkin's work, but I think it will do. Tell me, Lampkin," he chided over his shoulder, "why don't you write all my letters for me? Then it would be possible to avoid the confusion that put me in this mess in the first place."
"You don't pay me enough for that," the man in question muttered dryly.
"And what about all the other favors you do?" Anton questioned, a knowing smirk quirking in the corner of his mouth, "No one pays you for those at all and yet you can clean up a mess quite efficiently. One might almost think you were a professional at it. Why don't you show your friend out. I won't begrudge you a minute, or an hour, if you decide you're in need of a bit of fun before you return."
"If I were a professional you'd be far safer if you were footing the bill," Lampkin muttered under his breath as he led Dotty to the door. A moment later he had plastered a smile over his face and leaned forward to ask Dotty for a kiss. He did not think she had heard him. It was obvious Anton had not.
Leondeal was a bustling city high in the mountains where the light spring chill still felt like an ReValyan winter. Sir Greagor moved through the streets easily though. It had not taken him long to learn the layout. Though built on various levels to accommodate the mountains the city still followed a standard grid. The market district lined the main road, and the royal palace sat on the highest peak. It was the easiest place to gather warm sunlight, and the most defensible during an attack. There were slums of course, hidden in the back corners where visitors would never know to look to see them.
Yet today he was not here to see the sites. He had a mission, a mission he had known he would need to complete since an hour after he had left a recovering Tristen in the care of the man's family and set out on the road again. He was close to completing it too. So close he could almost taste the wine he intended to buy the moment he was back home. He wound his way through the capitol city that shared the name of her country, past the throngs of street sellers hawking their wares, and through the main gate of the royal courtyard. The royal palace may be off limits, but the noblemen's parliament was in session and that was always open to public viewing, though most knew it was a farce . . . or at least it was when Anton personally resided.
The parliament house was set up as a sort of roofed
Colosseum. Each ring segregating the classes. The main floor house the nobles who were participating, each settled by house with a desk before them around the edge or, if they chose, a place at a great round table in the center. Through his visits here Greagor had never seen the round table in use, though he had heard stories of how it had been used to sign treaties and solve problems before the coup two generations prior. The second ring housed the families of those presiding and minor nobles. The third ring contained seats for major merchants and prosperous common folk. The fourth ring was for well off shop keepers and those of moderate wealth. The fifth ring contained standing room only, for peasants. Greagor approached the guards and was quickly waved through with directions to the third ring. His fur lined cloak assured him of at least that much. It had been an expensive item, but well worth the extra cost.
Today was no ordinary meeting, however. Today the Queen Dowager, Anton's aunt, widow of the former king and current ruler of Leondeal was in attendance. That too was a farce. All and any power the woman had once held had been stripped of her the day Anton came of age, or so the rumors stated. Perhaps had she truly ruled things would be different, the people whispered a fondness for her, but now she was nothing more than a figurehead. Yet if she was a puppet she was a puppet with a voice, and she made sure she was heard.
"To raise those taxes will put the economy into a downward spiral!" she was . . . not yelling, yelling was too harsh a word, vocalizing strongly to a lord across the room. For all her handsome face, fancy dress, and apparently caring heart the woman was as tough as steel and as prickly as a thorn bush. "I don't care how much you think the roads need repaving, how will they see use if the farmers are unable to even take their goods to market. You take that much and they'll have nothing to sell!"
Greagor smirked as he moved through the isle. He was only half listening, but already it seemed things were as heated as ever. He reached his destination, a support beam in a shadowy corner of the third ring that rose the height of the auditorium, supporting the third ring's railing. Cautiously he knelt down and reached over the edge until he felt the small pocket between the wood and the wall. A bit of feeling around led him the edge of a bit of paper and he drew out a piece of well creased parchment. Standing he moved on until he was well hidden in another corner. Only then did he open the paper and read it. A moment later he had folded the page anew, letting the creases form their own pattern with the letters on the page, and what he saw led to a large grin. Finally, after searching and greasing palms, after consorting with both the lowest imaginable and the highest a reasonable man could reach, he had it. The name.
And hour later he stood at the window of the little room he had rented, watching the wings of a bird as it sailed away.
"Don't hold it against them," Nicoli requested as he laced his shirt up as he sat on the edge of the overly large bed. "They only have your best interest at heart, and if you'll remember I had almost the exact same questions." His small cloths and breeches were already on though his stockings, boots, and false leg were still scattered across the room. "Don't think of it as them questioning your judgment, but of them trying to show they care the only way they believe they are allowed to do so." It had been an interesting experiment for him, dressing with only the bed or Anne to lean on. He had asked for his leg first, but she had insisted on helping him instead. He had consented to allow it provided she allow him to return the favor at some point. At the moment he was enjoying the sight of her in her nightgown, though part of him wondered what others she had, which he'd get to see, and if she'd ever allow him the privilege of making a request. "After all there are only so many occasions one can get away with bringing their queen flowers without looking suspicious."
His hair was still slightly damp from the bath they had shared. A fortunate observation on Nicoli's part had led to the comment that the tub would hold them both, a leisurely soak in warm water, a mouthful of bubbles on his part, and the realization that Anne's rooms were far more comfortable than any place he had ever previously stayed. Not only was the tub big enough for two, but her bed was the softest thing he had ever had the pleasure of laying on, and her sheets were heaven against the skin. He only wished there was something he could give her in return. Something besides physical pleasure. Even that came with its own cost. The secrecy. The complications should Anton learn of it. There was the brief thought that flickered across his mind that should he get her with child the possible repercussions would confuse things even more. He did not relish the idea of bringing a child into this world and then spending their life pretending to be a stranger because a foreign king had the official title of husband. But a moment later he realized that future was impossible and the reasons for that impossibility seemed to place a weight on his heart. A curse and death was no future at all.
"Do you think I should shave?" He asked randomly a moment later trying to lighten the mood when Anne came to help him with the cuffs of his shirt, "or do you like the roughness? I'll grow a full beard if you prefer?" he took the opportunity to snitch a kiss before asking boldly, "and how might a man go about earning back his leg?"
