“Marshall Kaylan reporting to His Majesty King Tramadon,” his voice boomed in the sudden quiet of the room.

“The Marshall may enter to report,” replied a page standing at the king’s left shoulder.

Kaylan walked into the room slowly, much to her dismay, then proceeded to the end of the table where three men were seated at the opposite end.  King Tramadon was the man at the head of the table but Kaylan did not know the other two men, one seated on either side of the king.  King Tramadon was not an overbearing individual and his physical stature was not of great significance.  His reputation for running a no-nonsense kingdom spoke volumes for what he lacked in size.  The man on his right was quite the opposite - he all but dwarfed Tramadon by his height, even seated, and breadth.  Kaylan dared not stare at any of them.  Instead she inclined her head to each in turn and finally to her king.

“Your Grace,” she addressed him formally.  She had never been one for using proper titles and neither had Tramadon. They were friends before he became king and had addressed each other by name only since the day after her appointment as Marshall.  Something seemed terribly wrong here.  She needed to gain some perspective on the situation in hopes to remain as uncomplicated as possible.

“Marshall,” replied Tramadon, also inclining his head to her.  “I would like to introduce you to Duke Cahill of Keegan,” he motioned to the overly large man to his right.  “And this is Baron Jamison of the Porter district in Quimby.”  He gestured to the squirrely looking gentleman to his left who didn’t resemble a baron at all – at least not to Kaylan.  She stifled a laugh that threatened to exit her mouth upon seeing the baron’s failed attempt to cover his balding head.  The long thin strands of hair he stretched from one side to the other made him look even less like nobility.  She noted in passing that the Quimby land barons seemed to trend toward the seedier side where their appearance was concerned.  Perhaps that’s due to the time they spend in their counting houses keeping track of their wealth built on the backs of their serfs.  Kaylan had little respect, if any, for the Quimby barons and struggled to keep her expression neutral.

“My Lords,” she greeted them cordially.  She looked directly at Tramadon then and something in his eyes passed to her that screamed for caution.  She needed to tread lightly here it seemed.

She smiled winsomely as she formulated a plausible report as quickly as possible in her head while they waited patiently.  She noticed the squirrely baron didn’t appear very patient.  The duke, however, simply interlaced his fingers to wait for her to complete her report then withdraw from their company. She then reconsidered her options.

“Is now a good time to report, Your Grace?  I apologize for my appearance but it would be unseemly to delay my news for sheer vanity.  However, I fear my report is rather trivial and of ill significance in light of your esteemed guests,” she really hated the flowery speech but caution predicated it.

“Thank you for that courtesy, Marshall,” Tramadon continued with the same formality.  “If, in fact, you truly feel your report is of no consequence, then please, make yourself more presentable.  You will join us for the evening meal and festivities.  I shall hear your report on the morrow.  Oh, and I believe your father was asking after you earlier.  He was in the library last I’d seen him.”  Again, Tramadon inclined his head to Kaylan with that same strained look upon his face.  She took note that the duke and baron were both watching her and not Tramadon.  To keep things in his favor, she hoped, she bowed at the waist as she stepped away from the table.  She looked each man in the eye as she gave her most gracious smile.

“Thank you, Your Grace.  I will be sure to meet up with him whether it be this evening or tomorrow.  It was a genuine pleasure, gentlemen.”  She bowed to each one then turned to Tramadon, “Majesty.”  She kept her head bowed as she backed herself to the double doors.  The door swung open as if on cue, she turned on her heel and left the room.  The heavy door boomed as Westlock closed it behind her.  She turned back to stare at the closed doors in complete bafflement.  She needed to get specifics about the two men that were with the king but without knowing why they were here she wasn’t sure who she could trust to request that kind of information.  The guard was watching her warily when suddenly she realized he was motioning for her to come closer to him.  She walked casually back to the doors just past the spot where Westlock was standing post.

“They arrived just three days ago but have requested a meeting with him every day since.  He has been all but obligated to comply with their requests but nothing has transpired as of yet,” he whispered to her.

She tried not to make any unnecessary motions that would indicate he had said anything at all.  She did not know if anyone else was watching nor did she know how Westlock knew to tell her this information.  She set her saddlebags on the floor at her feet and knelt to adjust the lacing of her boots.  In a low voice she asked, “They arrived just three days ago? Did anyone recall seeing them in town prior to presenting themselves at the Fortress gates?  Did they come together or is that just coincidence that doesn’t really seem so much like coincidence?”  She needed to find out as much as she could without alerting anyone else to her interest in their arrival.

He tried to keep his mouth as still as possible while trying to explain what little he knew of the situation.  “All I can tell you right now is that the king does not want to meet with them but they are insistent.  I think it has something to do with the recovery of some kind of inheritance but I can’t hear very well through these blasted doors.”  He gave a very disapproving look at the doors behind him.  To anyone watching it would have appeared that he objected to Kaylan’s sudden desire to adjust her boot laces.  “I don’t know for fact, but I get the distinct impression the king is suspicious of them.”

“Why do you say that?” she asked quietly.

Westlock looked around slowly as if he were scanning his post.  Then he turned slightly to answer, “The King’s Commander has instructed a select few of us to keep our eyes and ears open for anything unusual regarding them.”

Kaylan tried to hide her irritation without much success.  She worked on her boot laces more intently and said between clenched teeth, “That could just be Brogan getting a wild hair.”

The guard huffed at her but remained calm as he replied, “No Ma’am, I don’t think so.  No disrespect but you know as well as I do that he would not give such instruction if he thought it unimportant.  He seemed sincerely concerned but instructed us to only discuss our observations with him… or you.  No one else was to even know we were watching or listening.”

“Hmmm,” whispered Kaylan.  Why would he do that?  I have no formal connection to the Guard, the Commander or his army.  That’s interesting that he would trust his guards to reveal information to me.  “I wonder if I could meet with him without attracting too much attention,” she whispered to herself.

Westlock cleared his throat while Kaylan worked on her laces.  “I will be relieved from my post in half an hour.  I can make your request known to my Commander.  I’m sure he would see the mutual benefit of such a meeting.”

Kaylan gave him a genuine smile.  “That would be tremendously helpful. Lucky me, I will be joining the king and his new friends for this evening’s entertainments.  Perhaps Brogan can manage an invitation.”  She finished with her boot adjustments, stood casually picking up her saddlebags as she stood.  She turned back toward the fortress hall.  Passing the guard on her way out, without looking at him she said quietly, “Thank you, you are a credit to your command.”  Without further delay, she left the guard at his post while she went in search of clean clothes and a bath.

She stopped by her rooms to deposit her saddlebags and pick up some clean clothes before she went to the bath house.  The thought of the baths was even more welcoming when she realized how long it had been since her last bath.  Two weeks is entirely too long, she thought to herself.  She also realized life at the Fortress was spoiling her.  She wasn’t used to traveling for weeks at a time to the outskirts of the kingdom where a bath consisted of a jump into a freezing cold lake or river and if you didn’t freeze to death before you got out, you were definitely in no hurry to do it again anytime soon.

Kaylan entered the bath house with an almost feverish desire to wash away the remnants of this latest trip from her body.  She removed her clothing, picked up a towel, and made her way to the center pool.  The heat in this pool was just enough to turn her skin a light pink as it relaxed her taut and travel worn muscles.  While she soaked she thought about her visit with Tramadon and the conversation she had with the guard afterward.  It was all quite puzzling and not less than disturbing to Kaylan. 

She did not understand what the two men could want or what Tramadon would have to do with an inheritance.  He had already inherited all that went with his position as the King of Kestra when his father transferred the crown.  None of it was making any sense to her. She replayed Westlock’s comments in her mind while washing her long auburn hair.  She worked her fingers through the knots and tangles of her hair just like she tried to work her mind through the knots and tangles of the crazy situation which she had just come home to.  Since she was commanded to be at the evening’s festivities she decided to wash her hair again, this time using the mint oil to revive it - and herself.  Soaking made her realize how much she would rather sleep than spend her evening politicking with people she didn’t really like. 

She looked at her fingertips as she washed out the last of the oil from her hair.  They were slightly wrinkled and she guessed that she’d been soaking for a little over half an hour.  If she got out now she would still have another two hours before she had to present herself in the banquet hall.  Plenty of time to go find my father… drat, I still have to brush my hair dry, Kaylan groaned inwardly for she knew that would take at least an hour.  She stepped out of the pool and dried herself thoroughly.  She dressed quickly and wrapped her length of hair in a fresh towel.  She returned to her rooms to begin her torturous preparations for the night ahead.