Loyalty

Lord Caito shoved his way through the crowd gathered in the streets and urged his large warhorse through lesser-known paths to reach the castle. It rose like a beacon against the black sky. A series of windows in the high north tower were ablaze with light while the outer wall sported large oil lamps despite the late hour.

When finally he was able to dismount and free his beast of its burden the poor creature seemed to lean into him with relief. A boy rushed forward and after being positively identified was allowed to unsaddle and care for Lord Caito’s companion. The Knight brushed off welcomes and queries after his being and single mindedly made his way to the heavy oak doors of the only suite still awake in the early hour. A guard quickly nodded to him and stepped aside to allow for his entrance. Behind a thick wooden desk sat an older man with heavy pepper brows and a bony frame under his long nightgown. Half moon spectacle caught the small candlelight and obscured a set of discerning eyes, “Lord Caito. What news do you bring?”

“Lord Darnin. I am sorry if my sudden appearance has caused some upheaval.”

“Not at all, Lord Caito. The Prince has been brewing for quite some time. I was, in fact, awoken some time before your horse was spotted.”

“Very well, then. I am afraid I do not bring good news.”

“I am listening.”

“I will, of course, deliver a written report in due time.”

Lord Darnin gave the slightest of nods before the Knight continued, “I was stationed at the border, as you know, hunting for the bandit crew that has been a thorn in our side when my research led me to stumble upon delicate information.

“The daughters of several lords from various counties have disappeared lately. It seems as though these lords were sent into such a state of hysterics that very little progress has been made. The sons of these Lords have been out searching and a few of them, too, have failed to return.
“I fear this speaks of something darker than dangerous borders and low time criminals. For those missing I can only fear for the worst.”

A new voice rose from the Knight’s right, “Beyond that the remaining Lords with daughters are withdrawing to their respective regions. Allegiance is a word with less and less meaning.”

Lord Caito turned to the rather soft voice and quickly raked in the sight of a boy around twenty-five years of age. His clothes were soft cotton but sturdy in build. Nothing particular marked his stature. A dark yellow shirt was tucked into rich brown pants. A white vest broke up the droll combination and a set of fine doe-skin boots completed the ensemble. A simple outfit easily afforded by most citizens. However the high cheekbones and sharp gray eyes marked him as nobility, but still, nothing over a well groomed noble.

Bowing deeply the Knight murmured under his breath, “Highness.” He missed the downturn of the lips and shift in stature at the honorific. The Prince strode across the room and pulled two books from the bookshelf and opened them to dogged pages. These he spread on his advisor’s desk, “This has happened twice before in history. Neither time did anything come of it beyond a kidnapping, however, the girls in these cases were not returned. It is based on some ancient legend about gaining power. The information on this is being gathered now.”

“Sire. What are my orders?”

The Prince looked up and caught the Knights gaze in his own sharp eyes, “Lord Caito, I would request that you continue your exercises as Knight here in the capital. I will inform you of further instruction as soon as I can.”

Hearing his orders and immediately feeling constricted the Knight tightened his hands into fists. The muscles in his arms jerked in rejection of the force he was exerting before he was able to calmly bow and turn on his heel to exit to his quarters with a slight gesture of dismissal from the prince.
Gritting his teeth fiercely as he stormed down the dark hallways he made his way to the room kept in the far west wing for him. Several Knights had accommodations there that the previous king had arranged as the west wing extended to the training grounds and had easy access to the barracks and stables.
The door slammed behind him, probably waking a few of the hall’s occupants. His fist collided with the stone wall as soon as the safety of his room encompassed him. He hated staying in the capitol. Hated the constant company of knights that reminded him too much of his differences. Hated being constantly reminded that his own king, the great regent that had reigned over peace for decades, was slowly wasting somewhere within these walls and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it!
Stripping his slightly damp leather gloves and boots and dark clothing he stretch into the soft cool covers, appreciating the slight chill that drifted through the cotton and accepting the escape of sleep just as the morning sun was spreading grey across the horizon.

The Prince leaned his head against the tall dresser in mid-undress. He had resigned himself to bed and since had felt the weight of his all-nighter. Dizziness swept his senses and when a maid, obviously new to be woken at this hour, called his honorific softly he could only silently motion her in. With care she helped him out of his shirt, though he refused to allow her to remove his pants and together he was under the covers with a warming tray moments later.

Sighing softly at both the weak state of the Prince and his shyness, she shuffled off to have another few hours to herself before attending the Prince’s needs.