eyes, and medium build, she had taken over the duties of the office long ago now. In many ways, she took the place of Varlock-Sharron’s dead wife. Though Lady Ara had never taken to the King’s bed, as did so many other women of the palace.
Probably the reason the council trusted her.
“Ara is correct,” said Varlock-Sharron. “We cannot appear frail in the eyes of the other nations. The stability of Sharron is a thorn in their side as it is. Many of them will take any sign of weakness as an opportunity to strike. We will not give them that chance.”
Heads were nodded in agreement all around the table.
“The city can remain sealed through tomorrow. Fine. Constable drey-Sharron, I want your men to take to the streets and announce that the curfew is effective throughout the day tomorrow. No one is to walk the roads unescorted. Anyone caught outside is to be placed under arrest, but not treated harshly, just held and questioned. Let them know we lift the curfew after tomorrow night.”
Constable Val drey-Sharron acknowledged.
“Tomorrow morning, we begin to search house by house. The Constabulary will search the Northern districts and the western districts. General Bodrir, your soldiers are to search the southern and eastern districts. Lord Tulock will show you both how we will divide this up. Ov, I want all my Guardsmen, save my personal company, to patrol the streets. Double guards at the gates. Any questions?”
There were none, or at least none that would be voiced in the open.
The three others in the room had been completely silent. General Sir Portav Sopirr, Sir Malov’s deputy, and Chief of Operations, Admiral Kol Trem-Sharron, commander of the Sharron Navy, and Lord Mika Forkuln, Minister of Foreign Affairs and chief diplomat of Sharron. It was known that Lord Mika and Lord Tulock did not see eye to eye, and that Admiral Trem-Sharron was not fond of General Bodrir, Constable drey-Sharron, or Captain-General Callan. General Sopirr rarely spoke, except when he had something poignant to add.
King Varlock-Sharron was often annoyed by the petty bickering. There had, fortunately, been little of that lately.
Lord Tulock asked if there was any further business. But the King’s attention was drawn elsewhere. An old sensation came to him, like a repressed memory, and he tried to recall what it meant. He found himself distracted, his eyes unfocused as he stared off into space.
“Your Majesty? Your Majesty?” Lord Tulock prodded. He coughed, reclaiming the King’s attention.
“What was that?” Varlock-Sharron had been gazing blankly out a window, and turned to look at the Seneschal. “Oh, Tulock, I was...just thinking a moment. We must begin our search tomorrow in the Gara-Northwest district. That is a good place to begin. Pass that along,” the King tried to recall the sensation a moment longer, then returned to himself. “Very well, then. Anything else?”
General Sopirr cleared his throat. “My liege, the Medaelian Army continues to position itself about ten miles from the border, near to the village of Vanntu. The outpost at Vanntir has expressed concern. We believe they are reinforcing the town of Penlorka, modifying the walls and outer perimeter. This is where they began their last invasion, you may recall, your Majesty.”
The King could not hide his displeasure. “King Wilnar-Medira has been scheming to take back the Vann Region since the day he ascended the throne. He has been a witless imbecile all his life. His father was at least an honorable man. Lord Mika, perhaps it is time to press our claim as Second Prince.”
Lord Mika sighed rather dramatically, almost like a yawn. “Your Majesty, I know that is an appealing notion. But that title has been considered spurious since King Wilnar-Medira took the throne. He will not recognize you and the title. His diplomatic corps agrees that it is unwise,
Probably the reason the council trusted her.
“Ara is correct,” said Varlock-Sharron. “We cannot appear frail in the eyes of the other nations. The stability of Sharron is a thorn in their side as it is. Many of them will take any sign of weakness as an opportunity to strike. We will not give them that chance.”
Heads were nodded in agreement all around the table.
“The city can remain sealed through tomorrow. Fine. Constable drey-Sharron, I want your men to take to the streets and announce that the curfew is effective throughout the day tomorrow. No one is to walk the roads unescorted. Anyone caught outside is to be placed under arrest, but not treated harshly, just held and questioned. Let them know we lift the curfew after tomorrow night.”
Constable Val drey-Sharron acknowledged.
“Tomorrow morning, we begin to search house by house. The Constabulary will search the Northern districts and the western districts. General Bodrir, your soldiers are to search the southern and eastern districts. Lord Tulock will show you both how we will divide this up. Ov, I want all my Guardsmen, save my personal company, to patrol the streets. Double guards at the gates. Any questions?”
There were none, or at least none that would be voiced in the open.
The three others in the room had been completely silent. General Sir Portav Sopirr, Sir Malov’s deputy, and Chief of Operations, Admiral Kol Trem-Sharron, commander of the Sharron Navy, and Lord Mika Forkuln, Minister of Foreign Affairs and chief diplomat of Sharron. It was known that Lord Mika and Lord Tulock did not see eye to eye, and that Admiral Trem-Sharron was not fond of General Bodrir, Constable drey-Sharron, or Captain-General Callan. General Sopirr rarely spoke, except when he had something poignant to add.
King Varlock-Sharron was often annoyed by the petty bickering. There had, fortunately, been little of that lately.
Lord Tulock asked if there was any further business. But the King’s attention was drawn elsewhere. An old sensation came to him, like a repressed memory, and he tried to recall what it meant. He found himself distracted, his eyes unfocused as he stared off into space.
“Your Majesty? Your Majesty?” Lord Tulock prodded. He coughed, reclaiming the King’s attention.
“What was that?” Varlock-Sharron had been gazing blankly out a window, and turned to look at the Seneschal. “Oh, Tulock, I was...just thinking a moment. We must begin our search tomorrow in the Gara-Northwest district. That is a good place to begin. Pass that along,” the King tried to recall the sensation a moment longer, then returned to himself. “Very well, then. Anything else?”
General Sopirr cleared his throat. “My liege, the Medaelian Army continues to position itself about ten miles from the border, near to the village of Vanntu. The outpost at Vanntir has expressed concern. We believe they are reinforcing the town of Penlorka, modifying the walls and outer perimeter. This is where they began their last invasion, you may recall, your Majesty.”
The King could not hide his displeasure. “King Wilnar-Medira has been scheming to take back the Vann Region since the day he ascended the throne. He has been a witless imbecile all his life. His father was at least an honorable man. Lord Mika, perhaps it is time to press our claim as Second Prince.”
Lord Mika sighed rather dramatically, almost like a yawn. “Your Majesty, I know that is an appealing notion. But that title has been considered spurious since King Wilnar-Medira took the throne. He will not recognize you and the title. His diplomatic corps agrees that it is unwise,
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