Drawing the razor down the side of his neck, Myrl listened to the sound as each little hair was nipped short to his skin. He loved the feel of a good, close shave. It was a daily therapy for his soul, he sometimes thought. A quick washing up with warm water and soap in his little tent attached to his carriage made him feel good about the day to come; but followed by an extremely hot towel to his face, a luxuriant soaping up of his chin, cheeks, and neck, and finally the drawing of his personal razor across his skin made Myrl feel like everything was, regardless of reality, wonderful.

Three royal carriages, ten various wagons filled with both his personal effects and supplies for his party and guards, preceded by fifty of those guards in Dress Gold uniforms and armor, and then again followed closely by another fifty, had left Jibiril Keep three days ago, on their way to Fastel Castle. Last night, just a half hour’s ride from the walls of Fastel, they had made camp.

Once camp had been set for the evening, almost immediately in fact, the Royal Page, Baison, had stepped from the Duke and Duchess’s carriage, and proceed to try to commandeer a horse so he might ride from Myrl’s little camp to the castle, and prepare Duchess Yggrel for their expected arrival the next morning.

From where he sat in his campaign chair, without looking up from the book he had been reading, Myrl had simply said “No.” And immediately three guards from his retinue had gently guided the older man back toward Myrl, where Myrl bade him sit. A stool was produced by a guardsman. The man sat, slowly, next to the duke and duchess, where they themselves sat across from Myrl in the little clearing that had been prepared for just this purpose.

Lord Ashe and Myrl had discussed this possibility the day before, and had planned accordingly. Ashe had convinced Myrl that a firm hand was needed here; though Myrl planned a more temperate response than the one Ashe had advised.

“Page Baison.” Speaking just as the Page sat, Myrl had yet to look up from his book. “You did not ask My leave to visit the castle. I assume the duke and duchess told you to announce Our arrival.”

It wasn’t a question, and the duke looked like his cheeks were reddening in embarrassment. Behind him, Myrl could feel Ashe starting to bristle. The man who had taught Myrl all about subtlety in the expression of power, had forgotten all of his own lessons this last week. The man wanted to protect his student, but Myrl knew the time to stand forward and lead had finally come.

Cutting off what might be an insulting lecture on the topic of presumption, Myrl had taken the lead, and closed his book with just enough of a snap to ensure he had everyone’s attention.

He had smiled then.

“I appreciate you all taking the initiative here. This concern for protocol and manners suits you, and I have to say thank you.” He forced his voice into the calming, warm registers that, with an effort of Will added in, would calm them all. It made them all feel Welcome.

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

He looked directly into Duchess Kalenia’s eyes, a deep and pretty blue that almost, but not quite, matched the accents of her clothing. “The word you brought me about Yggrel’s many visits,” and here he had stressed “visits'' for emphasis, “to me at Jibiril Keep, and the many, many letters that had been read to the People of Rhiada in Ghlow, was an unexpected revelation. One that I am now still working to come to terms with. I feel that having a private word with the Duchess of Fastel would be a reasonable way to begin working out exactly how I intend to begin my rule of Rhiada.”

He had left the wording vague. He didn't want to let them know what he did and didn’t know. He wanted to see how they would react to his actions, so as to judge their own fitness to continue to hold their own seats in what would be HIS Great Court.

“I want to visit with Yggrel in a manner much like the surprise that her visits were to me.” He smiled broadly then. “It would please me to see her reaction tomorrow morning when we arrive.”

Kalenia nodded her head in assent, regal enough to almost be a bow in itself, as her son Vorner, and the Royal Page, Baison, both awkwardly bowed to him from their seats. “Lovely! I wouldn’t want anything to spoil the surprise.”

With that, Lord Ashe had called out for Lady Elbana, his Master of Martial Affairs. After a few moments, she had appeared, uniform and armor as crisp as when she had just donned them that morning.

“Sire.” She had said, with a bow.

“Are you seeing to what we discussed?” Myrl had asked.

“Yes, Sire. Already begun. Three scouts have joined us since we began setting camp.”

“Wonderful. Thank you, Elbana, you’re exactly the honed knife I need.” He had said, paraphrasing an old quote on military tactics she, herself, had taught him some years back.

With that, he nodded to her, and she then turned and stalked away into the darkening gloom of the late evening, the smile on her face as broad and happy as he had seldom ever seen on the woman.

Then from the direction of the supply wagons he heard the bass rumble of his personal chef, Master Sergeant Donchaminar Kammick Nit’Sammish of the Cloven Peaks’ Clan, and Myrl smiled in satisfaction. “Dinner is arriving any moment now, please, won't you three join me?”

That had been yesterday.

And now, Myrl walked to his carriage where it waited, and stepped up and in as Lord Ashe held the door for him. He had some fiber picked out for today, and would change as they rode into the small surrounding city, then on to the castle itself.

His guards riding ahead and behind, Captain Elbana and Master Sergeant Donchaminar riding to either side of the carriage, and the carriage of the Widow of South Wall and her son following close behind his own, they made their way, at a reasonable pace, to visit with the Duchess Yggrel.

As they passed still camped supply wagons, and the token force of guards and attendants left with them, he counted a total of eight men in the barded yellow and purple tabards of Fastel sitting grumpily about a cook fire. Each soldier had a bowl of oats, a boiled egg, and an apple. A few were sipping tea from loaned mugs.

None of the men looked pleased at being held in his travel camp. He didn’t know how gentle Elbana and Vogel had told their men to be with the various guards and scouts sent out from the castle. He imagined they were being treated well, until they deserted to not be treated well. Elbana had a way of making soldiers comply with her orders.

Myrl found himself almost giddy at the prospect of meeting Yggrel. He planned to enjoy the surprise.