Dhanurana

Chapter 3: The Lord of the Keep

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The gate captain bolted through the moonlit halls of the Capital's Keep, well–manicured stone floors rattling with his steps. Those few servants who were still awake at that hour hurried from his path, their cloaks and hoods billowing as they dodged, and the occasional potted plant even fluttered with his speed as he passed. The Keep guards, wearing bronze armor like his, shuffled in place as he ran, wondering if they would soon need to use their spears. When he arrived at his destination, he caught his breath and composed himself, before opening the doors to the main meeting hall.

The governors inside were crowded around the waist-high table without a single wick for light. Some looked like they had just been roused from bed, others were cloaked in noble and ornate vestments, others in more traditional sleeping clothes, but they each had a cup in hand and all spun at the intrusion.

The captain cleared his throat and made his way to the end of the table.

He was quite happy the darkness obscured his flushed cheeks as every figure glared at him. Avoiding their leers more, he glanced at the table they surrounded. Wooden figures, cups, and an imported green candle were spread about in an ad hoc depiction of the surrounding area, allowing the court to plan.

Though it wasn't the first time he had seen them, they watched him with suspicious eyes, piercing him like a bull's horns. The discussion he interrupted wasn't going well as the tension in the room was tangible.

Making his way past the ceiling length window that replaced the wall and the slouched record keeper making a log of the meeting, he placed his fists together and bowed at the man positioned at the head of the table. "Lord Hegwous."

"Yes?" Lord Hegwous answered.

The Lord's head was the only thing visible above his all–encompassing black sable cloak, besides the silvery trim lining the vestment. His black hair hung all the way to his hips, neatly combed, but in need of a cut as its length didn't suit him. It was his skin, however, that was the most off-putting. While a few of the men and women around the table were fair enough to be from the far south of the plateau bordering the creature infested Valley beyond it, Lord Hegwous' pallor was unmatched. He was nearly as white as raw cotton, the purple circles under his eyes making them appear sunken. His wrinkles were deep and sullen, and his trimmed facial hair made the illusion worse. The only bit of color on his person was the red gem he wore as an earring. It didn't fit his ensemble and was far too large for it, fit more for a necklace or a crown.

For the captain, his Lord's slumped visage, looming over the planning figures, should have intimidated him. Even more so as Commander Gehsek stood behind Hegwous.

The Commander of all Daksin's armies was the most heavily armored man in the keep, even more than a general, gleaming in every facet of bronze one could attach to a man with as many jewels stuffed wherever they could fit. His broad, ostentatious red cape was marked with the elephant sigil of his lands. It was sewn in yellow thread in lieu of actual gold and made him shine even more in the pale moonlight.

Even with all the glamor and aura of intangible power, the captain could swear Hegwous' cloak was simply an unusually heavy blanket.

"I have a report." He shook his head, and bowed again, still having never gotten used to the Lord's whiteness.

"I would assume," Lord Hegwous sighed. The others stayed silent.

Lord Hegwous' speech was stunted. He was foreign, and not only from his look, but by how roughly he spoke the local tongue. Even though the south's language didn't demand it, he made each syllable rise and fall like music. He spoke fluently, but couldn't help putting his own mother tongue's melody on his words.