The Dragonfly and The Sword

Part 13: High General Meeting (Part II)

The halls were filled with silent servants in black—a dreary reminder of her loss that made the walk to her destination an increasingly exhausting practice.

We are all shadows without her. Amnicity thought.

A loud rumble of laughter echoed down the hall. Amnicity's back straightened as she pressed her teeth together. This would be more of a battle than she expected if these men did not even mourn. Even the lace could not obscure her vision from perceiving their smirks at the door from a few steps away.

"Announce my entry," Amnicity dictated.

"Princess Amnicity," the guard on the right spoke as both bowed. "Are they aware of Her Highness's arrival?"

"That is not of your concern. As the future Queen, this is my palace. Are you in the habit of questioning your leader?" Amnicity returned, halting before him.

"No, Your Highness," the guard on the left returned, glaring at his colleague. "We are sorry for our impertinence."

Amnicity stared at the guard on the right.

"Uh—yes," the guard on the right finally murmured. "I did not intend to offend the crown."

The ladies bestowed the guards with a questioning gaze, waiting for them to open the door.

"Well then," Amnicity sighed. "Are you to announce us, or shall High General Lessure learn of your disrespect after I dismiss you?"

The guard on the left opened the door for the ladies, clearing his throat. The four gentlemen became silent in their high back leather chairs around the oversized round, wooden table. Amnicity's eyes focused on the empty King's chair pushed against the back wall. She would ensure that the forgotten chair found its rightful place at the High General's Council.

"Guard Jeron," an older gentleman greeted, raising his glass. "Have they brought the next bottles of wine?"

Amnicity met the eyes of High General Serin, who slowly let his glass drop back to the table.  

"Princess Amnicity of Vetus," Guard Jeron announced. "And—uh, her ladies."

The four gentlemen quickly stood from their chairs, clasping a hand to their chests and bowing. Amnicity would have been more impressed if High General Breelon of Wrestan and High General Serin of Pran had not stumbled in the process. Except for James, all of the High Generals carried extra weight, and High General Breelon remained the worst of them. These gentlemen were once handsome examples of power and intelligence. Maybe an attachment to James would not be the wisest of choices. Amnicity smirked underneath the lace.

"I see you are all taking the loss of my mother quite well," Amnicity started, enjoying seeing even more color reach their cheeks. "And, High General Lessure, your guards need better training when it comes to etiquette. They questioned me for even wishing to enter this room."

Amnicity walked around the table until she stood beside the King's vacant chair. "Is there something they did not wish me to see?"

"Of course not, Princess. The guards are trained in the realms of protection and serving the crown, Your Highness. Etiquette is not part of their training," James responded evenly.

"Then perhaps they should have increased training in both areas as my mother is dead," Amnicity glanced at the chair against the wall while James took his seat. "Though, perhaps I can see where the folly stems. Guard Jeron, could you please help me with my chair and then call a servant to remove the wine. We will only be requiring tea and water for the rest of the meeting."

Lady Toria would later take great pleasure in describing each High Generals' face following Amnicity's orders. High General Breelon did well to swallow his words. While High General Serin quickly finished the rest of his drink. Only High General Ettore smirked, resting one hand upon his belly contently.