Crossfire

1

Everyone has to make choices. Some are bigger than others. Some don't affect anything but yourself. And some require sacrifices. Large, confusing sacrifices that don't seem worth it. It's up to the decision maker if that's the path they want to take.

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Palka stared at the castle's intricate architecture, which looked mysterious under the fall of snow. It had taken the better part of three days to reach the town of Chrilst. She patted her sturdy brown (almost black) horse that was a gift from her grandfather.

Her grandfather.

Wetness filled her eyes, but she wouldn't let it overflow. After all, she had business here.

She urged the horse forward, but couldn't exceed a more than a walk through the dense crowd. Eventually she reached the plot of land the castle was atop of. The stone building was an arrangement of rooms that she knew somehow formed a perfect square around the king's courtyard. On the left hand side of the castle, there was a corridor that led from the courtyard to the stables.

As she approached the main entrance, she could feel the two guards eyeing her. She dismounted her horse and lifted the hood that covered over half of her face. The strong jawline and full lips they could already see connected to a round, childish nose that Palka rather disliked. Resting above and on either side of her nose were amber eyes that observed as much as possible without giving too much emotion. Plain brown hair framed the rest of her distinct features down to her mid-back.

"Palka Fyifhers," She noticed the slight twitch of the eyebrow from one of the guards. She was used to the strangeness of her name and couldn't imagine having a name any less boring.

"What's your business?" The gruff voice came from the guard having no trouble containing his composure.

"His Majesty has requested for me."

"Oh really? Usually the king tells us the names of any guests."

"Please sir, I've been traveling for days. There's no way I would have come here for any other reason," Palka pleaded. While her words were true, the desperation in her voice was fake. She found this tactic made people think of her as a little helpless girl. Palka was anything but.

This attempt seemed to work with the less serious, clearly younger man, but the other wouldn't have it.

"Orders are orders. Come back later if it's an emergency." Palka could of sworn she saw him roll his eyes.

However much she didn't mind not getting into the castle, she was bothered by the fact that she had come all this way just to be turned away.

She rode into the market place, not far from the front of the castle. Merchants lined the streets. Palka had planned on staying for at least three days, and had packed food for that long. She now felt foolish; she should have packed enough food for her time here and the ride home.

She stopped at a shop selling food.

"How much?" she asked, pointing to a loaf of bread, two large fish, and three apples. She would have to ration. He told her the price, which made her flinch. She took the majority of her money out of the large pocket in her cloak. "If I work until sunset, can I get another fish?"

He eyed her, clearly thinking. "Fine. Only 'cause you're skinnier than this here post." He patted the closest post holding up his stand.

She flashed a grateful smile and went to the back of the stand, then through the entrance.

"So what ya' doin' here, anyway? You're clearly not from here," the merchant asked Palka when sales were light.

"I got a letter."

"From who?"

"If I tell you, you can't think I'm crazy."

"I'm sure I've seen crazier."

"The king. At least, it was signed with his seal."

"Naw, that's not crazy. So why are you working for your food instead of dining with royalty?"

"The guards turned me away."

"Hmph. Why would they do that?"

"They said the king would have told them my name."

The merchant thought for a second. "Get on your horse. I'll take you to take to them," he said.

Palka did as he said. As he led her horse through the crowded streets, she asked, "What's you're name anyway, sir?"

"Fremoth. That's what they call me anyway. And yours?"

"Palka."

They reached the castle. Upon recognizing Palka, the younger rolled his eyes. The older said, in a rather annoyed tone, "What is your purpose here?"

"I would like to know why this young lady was rejected an entering in of the castle," Fremoth said, surprising Palka with his proper sounding words.

"She wasn't a listed guest," the young guard shot to his own defense. The older guard put his hand in front of him in a "let me do this," sort of way.

"Well, is there any guest coming today?" Fremoth asked before the guard could say anything.

The older guard worked his mouth up and down like a fish. Then he said, "Who gives you permission to know this?"

Fremoth stood up straighter and puffed up his chest. "Well, I happen to be the main food supplier of the king."

The younger guard ignored the other guard's instructions and spoke before the older guard could get anything out. "So?"

Fremoth leaned closer and raised his eyebrows. "So, I am quite generously paid." His eyes darted down to a bulging pocket in his cloak and back up to the older guard. Keeping his eyebrows raised, he leaned back to a relaxed position.

"How much?"

Fremoth leaned closer again and whispered something Palka couldn't hear.

The younger guard's eyes grew wide, but the other formed a skeptical expression across his face. "Very well. Pay up."

Fremoth handed him a stack of coins, which the guard took without moving his gaze from Fremoth and Palka. Still keeping his eyes steady, he shoved the money in front of the other guard and muttered, "Count it." The younger guard shuffled the coins and attempted to count it quickly. "It's there," he said.

The older guard flinched, as if he expected different. Then he cleared his throat. "The name was... um... it was... Paul! Yes, it was Paul. Paul Fyifhers. Do you have a brother, miss? Or your father?"

Palka wasn't amused. "No. I don't. Are you sure it was Paul?"

"N-" The younger guard was cut off by the older.

"No. The name was Palka." A burly man in armor with long dark hair in a half ponytail walked up. He turned to the guards. "I've come to relieve you of your duties. Scram." The younger guard quickly disappeared into the castle. The older sneered and followed him.

He then turned to Palka. "So you're the new one?"

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