Chapter XXVII - Trouble Brewing

Lors City 18 Months Ago

Entering the Consort’s private dining room, Byrin startled old Theodore as he tasted a range of foods from a platter on a small table by the door.

“By the Earth Mother you gave me a fright!” said the skinny grey haired old man as he tried to regain his composure.  “Don’t you know how to knock?”

Theodore

“Please accept my most humble apologies my good man.  I did not mean to startle you and beg your forgiveness”, said Byrin as he flashed the old servant a winning smile before bowing at the waist. 

“Hurrumph”, said Theodore with a cross look upon his face.  “You don’t have it.  All of your sneaking around is going to be the death of me, you mark my words.  One day I’ll be in the kitchen preparing his Highness’s lunch and you’ll creep up on me and give me a heart attack.  And don’t think that I won’t come back from the dead to haunt you if you do kill me because I will.”

“That you will my friend, that you will” laughed Byrin as he reached out to take a roasted chicken leg from the platter.

“That’s not for you”, said Theodore as he slapped Byrin’s hand away.  “This food is for his Highness.  He hasn’t eaten all day and he needs his strength.  If you want something you’ll have to make your way to the kitchen and get it yourself”.

“Fair go old man” said Byrin with a hurt look on his face “I haven’t eaten all day either”.

“And you wont be eating here tonight”, said Theodore as he moved between Byrin and the platter.  “Now go about your business and leave me alone”.

“You win old goat,” said Byrin with a grin.  “I take it that the Consort is in his sitting room?”

“That he is.  He’s been there all afternoon sitting in his chair.  This is a hard time for him, as it would be for any man in his situation”, said Theodore, his voice taking on a hard tone.

“Aye, I’m sure that it is”, replied Byrin as he turned to face the door of the Consort’s study then suddenly turned to his right. “Did you see that?” he exclaimed as he pointed to one of the lounge chairs that were sitting in a corner.

“See what?” questioned Theodore as he looked in the direction that Byrin was pointing.

“I just saw a rat run under that chair” said Byrin as he drew one of his shortswords from over his shoulder and dropped to his knees in an effort to peer under the lounge from a distance.

“Where?” said Theodore as he also dropped to his knees to get a better look. “I can’t see it.”

“The cheeky bugger moved behind that chair”, whispered Byrin.  “You go and flush him out towards me and I’ll kill him with my sword.”

“Alright”, said Theodore as he got to his feet and began moving slowly toward the chair, his little body tense with excitement.  “Rats.  I hate rats”, he muttered.  “The only good rat is a dead one.”

“Psst.  Theodore!”  Byrin whispered urgently when the old man was halfway to his destination. 

“What?”  Said Theodore coming to a halt but not taking his eyes off the chair.

“Give my compliments to the chef”, said Byrin as he took another bite from the roasted chicken leg before nonchalantly walking through the door leading to the Consort’s sitting room.

Still chuckling to himself, Byrin silently entered Seraths sitting room and found him staring into the fire, lost in thought.  Leaning casually against the doorframe, he took another bite from the chicken leg and studied the man before him, as he had done so many times in the past.  At twenty-six years of age, Serath was a handsome man in his prime.  Standing five foot nine inches tall with a broad frame, he had a narrow face, a slightly crooked nose and brown eyes.  His dark brown hair had been cut to shoulder length and was held in place by the silver circlet that marked him as the Queen’s Consort.  He was wearing casual green hose with a white colored shirt and black boots.  A heavy black cloak was draped over his shoulders and Byrin could just make out the ivory pommel of the dagger that rarely left Seraths side.  A gaudy yet serviceable weapon thought Byrin, remembering when Serath had used it to kill an assassin that had made it into his bedchamber one night.  Yes, a very serviceable weapon indeed.  Unwilling to break Serath from his reverie, yet knowing the time of his appointment was fast approaching; Byrin cleared his throat and spoke.

Serath

Serath startled from his memories of the meeting with his brother six months before when he heard someone begin talking. Turning away from the fire, he saw Byrin standing in the open doorway, with a half eaten chicken leg in his hand.  Always one for court finery, he was clad in a loose fitting white shirt covered with a blue vest with red and gold trim, and a pair of dark green trousers.  He also wore a pair of knee length black hard-heeled boots.  The pommels of the two shortswords sheathed diagonally across his back were visible just above his shoulders.  Flouting Legion dress codes he had let his blonde hair grow down to his shoulders and had grown a beard. His blue eyes regarded Serath casually over his long pointy nose as he leant against the doorframe.  

Byrin

Over Byrins shoulder Serath saw old Theodore cast a look of anger toward Byrins back, as he shuffled past the doorway. Theodore’s thin arms strained with the heavy tray of food that he was carrying toward the dining table in the centre of the room.   Serath heard his stomach grumble and realised that he hadn’t eaten anything since breaking his fast that morning.  Undoubtedly he was in for a scolding from his old servant he winced inwardly.  Letting the thought pass he brought his attention back to Byrin.

“What did you say?” asked Serath, his face impassive.
“I said that it’s time to meet the Bastard” his bodyguard replied.

Authors Note: None of the above happened in the game, I wrote this to help me flesh out the strategic story.