Lady Death

THREE

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A large dark wooden desk carved with ornate designs took up an entire half of the office space. The craftsmanship of the beautiful piece of furniture was in sharp contrast to the rest of the room. Sure, the two matching high-backed chairs that faced the fire were of beautiful make, but the desk was still the most elegant and expensive-looking item in the room. Swirls of flowers and leafy vines crawled up its sides and were carved into the deep redwood surface. Despite the size and gaudy look of the desk, it was still, by far, Duke Peterson's favorite piece of furniture. The desk reminded him of Enarch, the capital city of Kilian, and the Duke's home.

On days when he particularly missed the grand parties and overcrowded streets of the city, Duke Peterson would sit behind his desk and close his eyes. The warm smell of wood was still the same as it had always been. He would imagine he was far away from this horrible place. The scent of the wood transporting him back to his old office in the capital city. His mother and sisters, who still lived in the city, would be readying for grand events and afternoon teas. Peterson missed them, but he needed to do well in this duty station to gain favor with the crown. The politics of it all often resulted in a splitting headache.

Sitting back in his leather desk chair, the Duke studied the inventory list in his hand. He had looked over the lines of letters and numbers several times already, and yet he still had not read a single word. Early that morning, a messenger had arrived with news that the Crowned Prince of Kilian would be arriving that evening. Peterson had already ordered an inspection of the prison, in preparation for the prince's arrival. It was one more headache that he did not need.

Peterson ran his fingers through the wiry brown hair of his beard. His hair had become lightly speckled with grey in the almost two years he had been here. The short cut he wore his hair in now only accentuated the grey in his hair more. This job had aged him. He sometimes wondered if it would be the death of him. Peterson still remembered receiving his assignment to oversee Arden Prison Camp. While it sounded as if it were an invitation, Peterson knew it was an order, one he could not refuse.

A sharp knock at his office door made Peterson look up from his desk. The Duke jumped to his feet as the Crowned Prince opened his office door. Peterson quickly bowed as Prince Thidal and four of the Prince's personal guards, dressed in head-to-toe black, entered the room. Peterson tried not to bristle as he realized that not one but all four guards had slightly pointed ears. He had heard the rumors that the Prince had half-bloods serving as his personal guards. He just had not believed them until now.

Thidal was a tall slim man. While most wealthy members of the royal court took to wearing pixie gems to alter their features slightly, the Prince appeared to have over twenty of the tiny stones. Peterson himself only could pick out what a few of them did. One for youth, eye color, maybe that other was for hair color, all though he was not entirely sure.

"I hear we have a few new prisoners in custody from the last patrol," Prince Thidal spoke up. Peterson nodded, motioning to a seat in front of his desk for the Prince to take. Thidal ignored him as he lazily slinked across the room to one of the yellow high-backed chairs by the fire. Pinching his fingers, as if the book in the chair was little more than a piece of trash, Thidal picked it up. He glanced at it, making a face of disgust before dropping back in the chair and wiping his hands on his vest.

"Well?" Thidal asked, rather exasperatedly, waiting for the Duke to elaborate further on the new prisoners behind their iron walls.

Peterson nodded his head yes as he gathered his thoughts, "Yes, a nymph, a pixie, and a hollow are in custody, your grace," he answered.