The Royal Ranger walked confidently through the tastefully but sparsely decorated stone halls of Laramea Keep. Absent, was any gaudy decor or excess wealth on display, in favor of honoring the history of Laramea with busts and paintings commemorating past battles, historical or significant occasions, and its former and current leaders. There were the typical suits of armor on display and weaponry on the walls that one expects to find in a castle and not much else, aside from practical pieces of furniture, such as benches near a window overlooking a garden, carts utilized by serving staff, and the like.
A quick turn or two down less frequented halls and an inconspicuous slight unsheathing of a suit of armor’s sword revealed a hidden passage, into which John quickly stepped, immediately slightly resheathing the sword of an identical suit just beyond the doorway, which caused the entryway to close behind him. A much more direct walk later, and John emerged behind a tapestry, in the section of the keep closest to his destination, King Lysander’s personal study. It was here he found his friend behind his desk, pouring over some missives.
John silently entered the open doorway and waited at attention a few paces in front of the man’s desk, keen to not disturb his liege. A few short minutes later, Lysander looked up, failing to completely suppress his startled reaction. Smiling slightly, he said, “John, for your naming day this year, I’m buying you a bell for your sword belt. And, you’re going to wear it every time you enter a room in which there is even a slight chance you might find me.”
The right side of John’s mouth curved up slightly as he replied, “Oh, but what would you do without me keeping you on your toes, old friend?” Under his breath he added, “And, now it might actually be important that I do so.”
“What was that?” the king inquired.
“We have a lot to talk about, My Liege.”
Lysander groaned, in a very unkingly display of normality. The man was at ease in private, around one of his oldest friends, and didn’t feel the need to act all royal and proper. A moment later, the King’s Right Hand strode boldly in, shutting the door tightly behind him, while the Left Hand silently slipped in through the window, masked, armored, and cloaked in all deep blacks and dark grays as usual. John, having been anticipating their arrival, began at Lysander’s nod, which came as soon as the door and window were both shut once more.
“I found an 8-year-old boy, near the eastern edge of the Wilds, almost directly west of here. He’s been surviving on his own for the past 3 or so years and has quite the story.” John proceeded to recount all that Lawk had told him, and finished with, “I fear ancient enemies may be upon us once more.” The ranger’s eyes were locked on his liege, searching for a reaction. However, the king only frowned, clearly thinking.
The Right Hand took the opportunity to make his own opinion known with a question, “Because of a boy?” His tone was skeptical, but still respectful.
John’s lips parted, as he prepared to reply, but Lysander answered first. “The details led me to suspect the same, regardless of the source. That combined with the odd disappearance, without a trace I might add, of large portions of the populations of various game animals on the plains…” he trailed off.
His Right Hand picked up the train of thought, “Even if an old enemy hasn’t returned, there may be a new one on the horizon. Though, the lack of traceable tracks and sheer quantity of missing animals is perturbing. There should have at least been some definitive evidence of someone or something. No force is without at least one Paulie.”
At this, Lysander surveyed the room and noted his Left Hand had yet to move an inch, since the conversation began. “Your opinion, Left Hand?”
A smooth voice emerged from beneath the mask, apparently unaffected by the face covering, without a hint of being muffled. “I observed the boy on his way through town. He is observant, composed, and ever alert. I agree with John in that he is no ordinary 8-year-old. When he dismounted from the good ranger’s horse, the boy made no sound. I strained my senses, but his footsteps were inaudible. And, he left no trace of his presence. It was as if the ground he tread upon remained unruffled. If an 8-year-old boy with such abilities can appear from nowhere, why not an army?”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
John began again, “Which is why the boy’s tale - his name is Lawk, by the way - led me to consider all possibilities, including the worst. And, you haven’t heard the most concerning part of my report yet.”
Noting the rapt attention upon him, the ranger continued, “A Dim Dagger made himself known.” At this, the Left Hand, uncharacteristically clenched and unclenched his fists silently, the Right Hand’s own hands moved to rest on his weapons, and the king sat up a bit straighter.
“If it were not for Lawk, I might not be standing here. For all I know, Stace could have been a target as well, or even the boy, though I believe this to be less likely, since his bed roll was overlooked.” The ranger recounted the rest of his tale without interruption.
Once he’d finished, the three listeners remained silent for a time, clearly processing the information and considering what it might mean. King Lysander was the first to speak. “Well, at least it will cost the same client double to send another Dim Dagger your way, now that one of them has fallen. And, we may have some time to prepare, since it will likely be a while before the news that he failed his mission reaches their network. In the meantime…” He paused briefly in thought before continuing, “from what John has recounted, this Lawk is far too intelligent for his age and both capable of and apparently unaffected by things even trained soldiers may struggle with. I would very much like to meet this mysterious youth. Have you made any arrangements for him yet?”
“Actually, Your Highness, I would like to formally request to adopt Lawk as my own.”
All eyes turned to him with unwavering attention at this unexpected and uncharacteristically formal request from the Royal Ranger. In the company of only those trusted three, John was never so formal.
King Lysander stared at him for a long moment before a slight smile curled the corners of his lips, “Is that sweat beading on the forehead of the unshakeable Royal Ranger, THE John Brahm?” he teased, returning the room to its earlier, less tense atmosphere.
John opened his mouth to speak and closed it, then opened it again, before sighing, relaxing, and saying, “If you say, ‘no,’ you know we will both never hear the end of it. Stace has taken to the boy like a mother bear protecting her cub. Besides, she and I both may very well owe him our lives.”
“Yes, it would be tragic if you were to have to suffer Stace’s wrath whilst I am suddenly inordinately busy dealing with kingdom affairs.”
John smiled, “Thank you, Lysander, truly.”
“I haven’t even said yes yet.”
“Bah, it’s obvious you’re going to, now.”
The king looked to his Right and Left Hands, who nodded crisply and shrugged in acknowledgement, respectively.
“Fair enough,” he shrugged in a distinctly not royal fashion. “I’ll give you some time to get him settled then, and we’ll plan to make introductions in say…a week?”
John smiled, “How about dinner, and you bring Sandra, the twins, and Lana along.”
“I look forward to it, and I am sure Sandra will be ecstatic. Lana could use a friend her age, who isn’t all caught up in propriety and politics, someone she can just be a kid with. And, it sounds like Lawk could benefit from getting to actually act his own age with someone for a change. Oh, and there will be a patrol assigned to your estate, effective immediately.”
The caring leader began to raise his hand to quell John’s usual protests, but (to his surprise) found it unnecessary. “It seems my old friend is more worried than he lets on, this time, “ he silently noted.
He then turned to his Hands and simply stated, “You both know what to do.”
They both nodded, and the Right abruptly turned and marched out the same door he’d entered through, his orders soon echoing down the halls, as the Left slipped back out of the window and disappeared into the city.
“How is Stace handling all of this?”
“She hides her worries well.”
“Perhaps, you have finally rubbed off on her a bit then, after all these years. That’s unfortunate.” The jest lightened the mood slightly, but John only chuckled before sitting down to contemplate all that had transpired. The pair fell into a companionable silence, as they often did when pondering upon serious matters.
***
Some time later, the men were concluding their discussion regarding defenses against assassination, when a knock came at the door. Lysander called out, “Enter,” as John stood, grasped forearms with his oldest friend, and departed. Before he could reach the door, however, it was thrust open. A stout, balding nobleman of slightly below average height with a great deal of self-importance, evidenced by his overly fancy attire, burst into the room, right past the ranger, without even sparing a glance his way. The posh man had moved with greater speed than his unathletic form appeared capable of, and he announced with a graceful courtly bow, again defying the physics of his physique, “Your Majesty, I, Lord Pembleton, would like to be the first to tell you…”
John turned and winked discreetly at the King before continuing on his way and tuning out the overly dramatic man. It was just another reminder of why he was glad he had elected not to live in the keep.