Daughter of Ice and Fire

Twenty-Three

The castle was in an uproar. Gauthier had to stable his horse himself, then fight his way to his rooms. Dropping his pack on the bed, he carefully stowed the black and white outfit away. Changing into his guard uniform, he checked himself in the polished steel that he used for a mirror, unable to help compare the castle to his rooms in Kaladhin. And to the wagons of the Gypshens. The room came up woefully short and he sighed. Taking a deep breath, he tucked the missive in his shirt and went off in search of the Prince.

Making his way to Averit's apartment, he wasn't surprised to find his friend wasn't there. Leaving the missive under a book on the desk, he began searching, wondering what had caused such chaos. Following the bellowing that could be heard echoing through the halls, he eventually found himself standing in front of the throne room. Raised voices drowned out the sounds of everything else and he steeled himself before slipping inside.

If the hallways were a madhouse, the throne room was sheer pandemonium. Gauthier closed the door quietly behind him and watched the chaos in front of him with interest.

The King stood on his dais, his face purple as he screamed at the guards below him. Gauthier scanned the crowd, noting the nobles that were in attendance were attentive but not terrified. Instead, the King's guard stood in front of the dais, rigid but obviously sweating as the King hurled abuse upon them. He noticed Averit standing behind the King's throne, fingers gripping the back of the chair. But he thought he detected a slight glint of satisfaction on the Prince's face, deepening his bewilderment.

The Captain of the King's guard was down on one knee, head bowed. His men were also kneeling, and he could see several of them trembling. Inspecting the group, he was relieved to see none of his men were there. Sliding along the wall, he made his way forward, not wanting to attract any attention.

"You are all useless pieces of horse shit!" the King screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. "One simple task and none of you, not a single one of you, could carry it out without messing it up! Tell me why I shouldn't have you all beheaded?!"

Gauthier darted a glance at Averit. The Prince never moved, remaining silent. This told Gauthier that whatever was going on, the Prince didn't want to get involved. Or he was happy about what happened. His puzzlement deepened and he inched closer.

The Captain of the guard was speaking, and Gauthier strained to hear. "I apologize, sire. Those responsible have been executed. But there has been no trace. My men and I have been scouring the countryside to no avail."

"I do not want to hear excuses. I want results. And I expect them. You're the head of my personal guard. I chose you because I believed you were the most qualified man in the country. But it appears I was wrong." Snapping his fingers, he pointed to the kneeling man. "Take him. Twenty-five lashes. Then Harrowvale. His men are to be executed immediately."

Gauthier started. Whatever had happened was not good. Like really, really not good. It made his own position even more precarious. If the King executed his entire personal guard, there was a very good chance he would pluck members of the Prince's guard to replace them. His name would be first on the list.

Averit apparently had the same thought. His expression quickly shifted from neutral to concern. Stepping from behind the throne, he approached his father, laying a hand on his arm.

"Father, try not to act so hastily."

King Vesterfahl turned to his son, eyes dark with rage. "Are you defending these men?"

"Of course not. They were derelict in their duty. But executing the entire lot will leave you without your own personal guard."

"Then I will promote yours."