Chapter One
“Dear Gods. Does it never stop raining here? I don’t think we’ve ever visited a more aptly named place, it’s so cruddy gloomy, even the great hall ghosts are no doubt depressed.”
“Gloomenthrall does appear to be singularly unique, Sire.”
“Sire…?”
“One should expect draughty ancient manors to be full of shadows and mysteries.”
“Not in the third month of summer, when it’s barely high afternoon. Why, it looks like an hour past midnight out there.” Lord Brandth De’Luca gave a worn velvet covered sofa a shove with his boot, positioning it closer to the fire before collapsing down upon it. “Do you think these rooms ever get warm?”
“Doubtful.” Captain Talac muttered in response.
“Is something interesting going on in the entry courtyard?”
“Not at all.” Talac turned away from the narrow window, his fingers moving quickly in a flicking motion that anyone observing would dismiss as nothing. The quick non-verbal signals were to advise that something very interesting indeed had captured Talac’s interest. They were necessary, since the Captain was damn sure they were being watched right now. Thus, his comment about draughts earlier, to alert his friend.
“Good, you know how much I loathe and despise high intrigue.” Brandth drawled. “So, it’s lucky none of that is occurring here.”
“You thrive on the stuff.” Talac finally moved away from the window after one final close look at the intriguing vast highly fortified structure located across the muddy front courtyard of the Keep. Looming out of the shadows opposite, the wide imposing portcullis entrance was visibly closely guarded. Heavily caped and armed shadowy figures patrolling high battlement walkways. Flickering covered brasseries placed at set intervals meant they weren’t trying to hide their presence.
Just who or what lived there? Why the battlements and the massive portcullis? Why all the armed guards? What were they trying to keep out? Or perhaps the more apt question might be, what were they keeping in?
Forcing his thoughts back to the conversation at hand, Talac resumed speaking. “Though I doubt you’ll have time to become bored, fortunately, you have all those beautiful ladies we caught a brief glimpse of when we arrived to meet and assess. I’m sure a candidate exists amongst them, one who will be deemed suitable to attend the annual end of summer festivities at the Golden Palace.”
The two men chose to ignore the smothered squeals of delight, followed immediately by just as loud shushing sounds emanating from within the walls of the guest suite. Old Keeps such as this were notoriously full of secret passageways and the like. Nice to know Gloomenthrall did not disappoint.
Brandth bit back a wicked smile. “I hope you’re right. But whomever receives the invite will need to be exemplary. A woman of moderate temper. A pleasant conversationalist, but not too opinionated. Beautiful. Gentle. Kind. Artistic. And not overly witty, you know how the Prince hates those who prove to be more clever than he.”
“I could not bring myself to utter a word against our noble Prince.”
“Oh, please, yes, he’s honourable, brave and handsome… in his own way. But the man is nothing but picky.”
“I believe he’s entitled to have some input into whom his future bride will be.”
“And that is why I, as his emissary, have travelled the length and breadth of our lands for the last six years, seeking out suitable candidates to attend the Golden Palace end of summer festivities and meet the Prince. But I’m getting old-”
“You’re a year shy of turning thirty.” Snorted Talac derisively.
“And every year the cold seeps into my bones just that little bit deeper. More importantly, the Prince is not getting any younger. I know the King and Queen are very eager for him to settle down and produce many, many grandbabies.”
“Oh, for pity sake.” Talac strode over to the fire and began tossing logs onto the hearth. Within a minute the fire was crackling loudly. Sitting beside his friend, he pitched his voice low so they wouldn’t be overheard, given the now roaring fire. “Many mysteries and many secrets abound here. You will need to be on your toes.”
Brandth tapped his knee twice in acknowledgement. Part of his role as emissary was not just to identify suitable bridal candidates, but to gauge the political leanings of their hosts. To uncover potential plots and unrest before they could unsettle the Vallas Realm.
Unparalleled at acting the dilettante. Dressing in bright silks and flowing capes, Brandth made a striking tall and fit figure, doubly so, given his handsome profile, sparkling honey brown eyes and golden flowing mane. Though beneath that glossy exterior was a keen, rapier sharp mind.
They made a good team. Brandth interacting with the gentry, observing them. Acting oblivious when they tried to bribe him so their daughter might be chosen as a bridal candidate. And downright clueless when the subject of the King’s health or planned military endeavours came up.
Meanwhile, Talac would skulk behind the scenes. Listening to the gossip permeating amongst the servants. Rifling through the private belongings of their hosts, in search of dark secrets that may signal a future or imminent threat to the Realm.
“Ah, Raschion, finally.” Brandth greeted the sight of his valet entering the room carrying a bottle of mead and glasses as if he were a conquering hero returned from war. Accepting the full glass poured for him eagerly but not drinking from it. Brandth waving it around instead like a prop for those who watched from the secret passageways that abounded in a place as old and massive as Gloomenthrall Keep.
Whilst Raschion set about unpacking Brandth’s things, making a lot of noise as he did so, tsking at the sight of wrinkles, and smacking away dust that had collected thanks to their many days on the road, the two men continued talking but in much lower tones.
“No sign of the Beast of Gloomenthrall that every man and their dog has been warning us about in increasingly dire tones for the past few days then?”
“Not as yet. No.” Talac grumped.
