The Kingdom of Liticea: The Sorcerer Prince

Chapter Thirty-One: The Gravekeepers

For once, the Prince felt he had some idea of what to expect when they marched. It was now six hours past midday and the autumn sun was making its ever earlier descent into the western sky. Tauron was expected to attend dinner in an hour, but before he did he wanted to enjoy a good smoke and a moment of silence. Being a military commander was glorious to no end, but only after the deeds were accomplished. For the last six hours he listened endlessly to nobles begging  and pleading for themselves to be appointed to command whatever number of troops to lead and to attack whichever place. Tauron should remember it all, but that was what the penners were for. Lord Oaran had at least six penners present, recording what each Lord said so it could be discussed in private later. Tauron did not like the idea of six copies of their plans floating around the castle. Little to nothing was known of the Morcar's intelligence capabilities, but the fact that it was Lord Oaran's safe-keeping made them look as available as wild berries.

There was a knock at the door and Prince Tauron's new apprentice came in. It was Robert Oaran, Lord Oaran's youngest at fifteen. One would think that a man of Lord Oaran's rank would have sent their children to the School of Chivalry, but he never trusted anyone but himself with his children. Even with letting his son squire for the heir to the throne he was hesitant, and perhaps worried that the Sorcerer Prince would cast an unnatural spell on him.

"My Prince, there is someone here to see you," Robert Oaran share the same round physic as his father. He wore similar baggy yellow cloths and a large, drooping red cap. Tauron thought he looked like the court fool.

"Tell them I don't want to hear of it. I've been begged enough for one day," he said, returning to his pipe.

"It's not one of the Lord, my Prince," he said nervously with his hands cupped together at his waist, "Some men in cloaks. They call themselves the Gravekeepers. And there are two more who say they are from Sanctuary."

"Sanctuary?" Tauron turned away from the setting sun to face his new squire, "As in the Tower of Sanctuary?"

"The guard just told me they are from Sanctuary, my Prince. I think one of them is a sorcerer. He turned the guard's wine to ice."

"Oh, Rannos help me," the Prince put out the light and stood up, "take me to them, Robert."

"Yes, my Prince."

A man who could turn wine to ice. That could only mean one thing. Kraven has come to Anton. The last thing the Prince needed the Lords to see was Kraven talking down to him.

Robert led the Prince to a smaller meeting chamber, where Lord Oaran would normally host private meetings. He could tell the guards were shaken, for they had their ears against the door as if listening for trouble. When they noticed the Prince coming, they snapped back to attention and opened the door. A cool draft hit the Prince as he braced himself. Inside there was a single large wooden table. It wa not as well-prepared as the main council chambers where they met earlier. On one side there was a even more jumpy Lord Oaran, Ulysses Cassius who had his hand on the handle of his sword, Jon Malken, Lord Yorod, Julius and Helg.

On the other side were four figures with dark green cloaks. Each of them had a different weapon, but they all had a Gargoyle embroidered into their cloaks, the symbol of the Gravekeepers. Two others were standing up; one was a thin young man with a light beard and a bewildered look in his blue and green eyes, and the other was what the Prince feared it to be.

"Well, well, well," came forward the other. An older man in blue cloths with a white cloak flowing behind him. His head was topped with long hair as white as snow and a thick bushy beard with the same color. On his face was a grin that would make even Senator Froyar blush.