A Crown Of Blades(ARTK, Book 3)

Chapter 92-93

Jono 29th, 3330 A.G

"You may not enjoy this next part, but it will get us into the main home without anyone giving us a glance." The idea had only come to him that morning, and when it did it came together quickly. It weren't perfect; there would be many opportunities for someone to notice, but it were the best any of them had come up with.

  Some days, Drogo felt as if he were surrounded by idiots- though he knew he weren't. Nara had sent some of the best soldiers she could spare.... Though he supposed the two had nothing close to Maude Beckett's education.

  He had to actively try not to rub his temples  as they watched the main entrance from a safe distance, waiting for any opportunity. Their legs and feet were beginning to cramp, but even that would play well for the next parts- with how many aches the certain group of people seemed to have.

  "Perhaps we should just call it another day." Myles started, then began to actively mock him. " 'Oh but Myles, we serve the same queen'- yes, and she is not here to see this. She will never know if we take one more day to ourselves-"

  "If you do not stop talking, I will take your head in my hands and bash it against that tree right there." Drogo said as calmly as he could manage. "It would be a simple affair- you're not as heavy as you look-"

  "And you are much heavier than you look-" Drogo began, then stopped himself. This entire plan had been formed around the notion that the perfect group of people might walk in at the perfect time, and even then.... They could be discovered. He scanned them with eyes, until he were certain (enough)  the group was large enough that none would notice three more at the back- then gestured to the others.

  They could not run up behind them right before they went in without looking suspicious, so Drogo motioned for the others to follow him when they were a few dozen paces away. A loose line had formed, so by the time they were at the door- he was finally certainly of their purpose.

  "Purpose here?" One of the guards asked, yawning. Drogo had no way of knowing exactly how long he'd been up there- but he appeared to also be drunk. He put that note aside, shoved to the back of his mind in case it would ever get him out of a bind- even if only temporarily.

  'Yes,I may have snuck in- but your guard looked like he'd drunk a full bottle. What does that say about your staff-'

  "We are the new group of servants requested." An elder female one spoke for all of them. "To help with the increased tasks from... the new commanding family?"

  The Ourri's had been easier to care for- though the Otes's were a much larger family, he noted that too.

  The guard waved them through without another glance, so out of it he did not notice the sword strapped under Drogo's cloak or the dagger Myles dropped just as they passed him. Though it were quickly picked up, he wanted to curse the man. It took them being met by another who appeared to be a 'high servant' of sorts, apparently in charge of doling out duties and explaining things to the newer ones.

  "Welcome." He said, stopping for only a moment before gesturing them to the basement level. Only once they'd gotten to want appeared to be the largest rooms, what with a small kitchen and rest area for the servants who already lived here- did he talk again. He had to do so over the faint sound of screaming, that caused many of the newer servants to raise a brow. "Oh, ignore that. We are close to the dungeons and torture chambers. So long as you do not betray these new lords, you have nothing to worry about. You will have the day off- and no more than one a week after that, lest it is a holiday, you or someone in your family falls deathly ill. Those of you who did not establish a place to live before moving here will be provided with one; though I will admit you'll prefer to buy a cottage after a few weeks of staying in one of these rooms. And it isn't that they smell or sleeping in them will make you ill; unlike most other territories the commanding family actually cares about the servants who do so much for them. Or they pretend to, at least. After one year of service, the Otes's have decreed that they will provide the coin for a small cottage to be built for you. Two rooms for one person, three for families with a child plus another room for every two children."