The Mosque Hill Fortune (The Sons of Masguard, Book One)

Chapter Two

The Houses Have Secrets

Secora Tor was hardly all about politics. As the oldest city in the kingdom, it was far too full of history and elegance to be bothered by the petty day-to-day bickering of its leading inhabitants. Unfortunately, and despite the best efforts of noble Queen Victorie Prideaux, the city's high-ranking officials would never let something so simple as grand architecture stand in the way of ambition.

And, if there was one thing Marshall had learned in the Nobles Circle, it was that politics were all about Secora Tor.

"I still find it hard to believe you were ever in the Nobles Circle," Commander Calum said, as though reading his thoughts.

"You wouldn't be alone in that." Never breaking his smooth, military stride, Marshall tipped his head to the officials in the palace courtyard. They each looked immediately away, as though intimidated. Their reaction shouldn't have come as a surprise to Calum. He knew the captain had a reputation as a powerhouse in the political realm – a plainspoken realist whose loyalty to the crown hadn't gone unnoticed or unrewarded. Even so, the commander couldn't help but marvel at the way these influential people moved from Marshall's path.

Like ants fleeing from a fire.

"So, if I'm to understand correctly, sir, the Mosque Hill Fortune – the greatest treasure ever uncovered – is more than just a legend? Is that why we're here? To tell the queen?"

"The Fortune is real enough, Commander, I can promise you that. It sounds implausible, and the Archives are certainly sketchy on the details, but Masguard was not in the habit of chasing things he could not catch." Marshall nodded to the guards at the gate. They stepped aside and waved him through without question. "Her Majesty already knows this. We are here to find out what Mosque Hill itself really means to Secora."

"Sir?" Calum asked in confusion.

Marshall paused before the enormous wooden doors at the end of the palace hall. Beyond, the voices of a court in turmoil beat against the walls with a low and steady rhythm, as if to sound their arrival. With his hat held firm beneath his left arm, Marshall rested his free hand on the hilt of his sword and nodded once again to the guards.

"The quest for the Mosque Hill Fortune was Masguard's final endeavor," he explained as the armored men leapt to comply with his unspoken command. "And it was not an undertaking of personal interest. It was a mandate from the crown."

"The former queen, Constance Prideaux," Calum nodded in understanding. "She ordered the mission."

"Indeed," Marshall affirmed. "If the records are to be believed, it was the only order she ever gave him. An order he followed without objection or hesitation. I cannot believe that he – or his crew, for that matter – would ever have been willing to die for something so trivial as an Ancient treasure."

The Commander looked thoughtful, as though preparing to respond.

He didn't get the chance.

With a heave of effort, the guards pulled at the doors and the court's chaos hit them at full volume. Deafening shouts blasted back and forth like opposing winds; answers or objections to the weasel standing at the center of the great chamber.

At a break in the commotion, one cry rose above all the others.

"Treason!"

Everyone turned to stare at the old official as Marshall and Calum seated themselves unnoticed on the outskirts of the room.

"Your words border on treason, Putris!" The hound stood angrily from his place at the front of the chamber. Calum recognized him as Drumlin, the mayor of a local village – not someone who'd ordinarily have any sway over council proceedings.