The people parted before them as they walked the short distance towards Boreham's main gate as if some invisible force moved aside the people in their way and then filled them back in again after they had passed. As a result it didn't take long before they were passing through the gate itself. Braxter glanced upwards and stared in open wonder at the height of the walls, the thickness of the walls, the sheer amount of walls. He began to think that maybe despite Randyl's words of warning, they might be safe here after all. The stones that formed the outer wall looked like they had been laid hundreds of years ago and they certainly didn't look like they would be moving any time soon. But then he thought back to the weapons that the Ulrogg had used - the pulsars - and the flying machines which which carried them through the skies, and he wondered how much longer these walls might yet stand for.
Four guards stood at the gate, searching and checking people before confiscating weapons and allowing entry. Another cart was being fastened to a horse as they passed - the cart was full of metal and wood, weapons and tools. The guards looked at their Captain as he passed by but did nothing to question or challenge him.
"Your men know who they follow - once again, they are a credit to you Captain." Randyl commented, making eye contact with one guard who held his nerve and managed to not look away too quickly.
"They're good men, as I said before. But I'll be honest with you - all the talk of these monsters has them nervous as turkeys before feast day. And with their nerves, some have got a little...excitable of late." The Captain spoke with unashamed pride, falling admirably short of arrogance.
"Trouble in the ranks?" Ja'aris smiled.
"Nothing too serious. Couple of them had a few disciplinary issues which needed ironing out. There they are now actually." He gestured with his head to the middle of the courtyard they were just walking into. Two gibbets stood with bodies hanging from them, slowly turning in the breeze, all life long since run out of them.
"You killed your own men?" exclaimed Braxter in astonishment.
"Had to. They took it upon themselves to get a load on in the tavern and then have their way with a couple of town folk. Women you understand. Well, more girls really. Don't get me wrong - there's places you can pay for that even inside these walls if that's your thing but in these times of trouble discipline needs to hold firm. Just thinking these might be your last days of living doesn't make any difference to the law and the Baron takes a dim view of those who think they can do whatever the hells they like. Even if there is an army at the door. Said to hang 'em and leave 'em there for everyone coming here to see. That way everyone will know that the law still applies."
"Makes sense." Ja'aris grunted and as he looked at the bodies he spat on the ground in front of them.
"No more "excitable" issues?" Randyl enquired innocently. Cotts shook his head.
"Nope, not a one. Everyone knows their job and what's expected of them now. And if we stick the 'gether and do just that I'm sure that whatever these beasts are, we'll show them the error of their ways in coming here." He smiled and patted the hilt of his sword confidently. Quick glances were exchanged between L'non and Ja'aris - doubt written across both their faces while Randyl smiled indulgently.
They continued walking around the courtyard, a wide road lying on the inside of the wall with buildings of various sizes marking the outer edges of the town proper. Although far from identical they were all made from the same grey stones lending a certain degree of uniformity to the otherwise irregular shapes and sizes. They also created a certain monotony which began to confuse Braxter after only a few minutes.
"How are we supposed to find our way around this place?" he wondered aloud. "Everywhere looks the same."
"Easy to get lost kid so you better stick close once we lose our guides." mumbled Ja'aris out of the side of his mouth. "You notice the numbers on the buildings?" he gestured with nothing more than a raising of his eyebrows but Braxter got the message and looked up at the nearest one he was passing. At first he couldn't see what the Watcher was referring to but after a few moments of bewildered staring he noticed a small black plaque fastened to the top corner, just beneath the roofing thatch.
"Seventeen? What's that mean?" he asked.
"That's the building number." Ja'aris explained.
"There must be hundreds in Boreham. It'll be impossible to remember where they all are."
"Well you best learn and fast. Otherwise you're likely to escape the Ulrogg and live out the rest of your days walking in circles looking for the way out of here." Laughed Ja'aris to Braxters growing dismay.
"It's not that difficult, or random Braxter. Ignore him." L'non frowned at Ja'aris but it did nothing to stop his amusement. "Think of Boreham as a very large grid with roads running North to South and East to West. The roads North to South are numbered and the roads East to West are given another number. Do you follow so far?"
Braxter frowned in concentration, noticing that as he stared around himself, the town folk they passed were doing their fair share of staring. He realised how naive they had been when it came to looking inconspicuous. Ja'aris and L'non wore scarfs around their heads so their eyes were the only things visible and even then only if someone looked closely but if they were curious enough to do just that they'd see two completely black eyes staring back at them, while Randyl towered over six feet tall and was full of muscle with more to spare. It dawned on him how used to his friends unusualness he had become over the last few days and felt a mixture of pride and self-consciousness because of it. He did his best to act calmly and offered a meek smile in return whenever someone managed to catch his eye.
"I asked if you follow, Braxter?" L'non interrupted his thoughts.
"Oh, er, yes," he apologised. "The streets are numbered. Got it."
"Well when somewhere needs to be located it can be done by naming the crossing point of the two numbers. So for example twelfth and third would mean...?" L'non paused, waiting for an answer.
"Ah, er...the twelfth road North-South and the third road East-West?" he guessed. Ja'aris snorted and shook his head but L'non smiled.
"Something like that my friend, something very much like that. It's quite a common system of mapping larger towns - one's which have been built in a less organic way than Brookdale or Heldaro I mean - and you'll get the hang of it I'm sure." L'non explained. As they turned left at the corner of one building marked with a number twenty-five Braxter wasn't convinced however.
"Seemed easier in Brookdale to just say "by the old yellow stone" or "over by Winston's Willows." Maybe even "where John Senniker used to keep his pigs." Seems a lot simpler. And I never once got lost in Brookdale. What are you laughing at?"
L'non had tried his utmost to keep his face straight but ultimately failed, letting out a sharp burst of laughter and holding up his hand in apology.
"Not laughing at anything...Hayseed." Ja'aris answered for him through a deep chuckle of his own.
"Alright, enough educating for the moment. It looks like it's time for us to go to work." Randyl half turned and spoke quietly to them. "I believe we may have arrived."
There could be no "may" about it though. That much was obvious even to Braxter.The road which they had been walking along had ended abruptly and opened into a huge courtyard. Decorative gardens sprawled before them with flowers of just about every colour blooming in display, organised into different styles and groupings, patterns and shapes. Vines grew overhead, covering certain walkways while others were sheltered on either side by sunflowers which stood tall and proud as they reached towards their namesake. At the other side of the garden stood a very large, very square stone building.
"The Baron's Residence." Announced Captain Cotts after pausing momentarily to allow the visual spectacular before them to take effect.
"House-proud is he?" Ja'aris asked with his tongue sliding over each word, each syllable soaked with disdain.
"He does like to keep his house in order, inside and out, figuratively and literally, if that's what you mean watcher." The Captain answered honestly but gave nothing away of his own thoughts either by his facial expression or the tone of his words.
"Humph!" grunted Ja'aris. "Not sure the Ulrogg will give two figs for what he likes. And I mean that most very literally. This is all just kindling if they breach your walls."
"But they won't breach our walls will they? Not with my lads to turn them away." The Captain beamed at his guards with confidence not arrogance, just simple faith in the ability of his men and the impregnability of Boreham's walls.
Randyl moved towards the nearest flowers - a white and red arrangement with short green stems and large colourful petals - and reached out his fingers, caressing them tenderly. An intense look of concentration had taken over his face with a slight frown creasing his forehead and his jaw muscle dancing beneath the skin.
"Have you seen the enemy up close Captain?" he asked the question quietly but in the quiet of the garden, now that they had left the road through town, his voice carried easily to those around him.
"I have lad. I've served as a guard for most of my adult life. Fought and survived the Seven Year War I might add, with barely a scratch. At least no visible ones though I've a few up here I'd rather not have." He touched his temple lightly then and had a pride in his words which Braxter was warming to. He obviously wasn't a braggart by any means but still knew that surviving that particular conflict was an achievement.
"My father was a survivor of that war." Randyl commented while continuing to run his fingers over the red and white flower arrangement lightly, allowing the petals to flow over and through his fingers.
"Then your father must be a seasoned warrior also. Where is he? Doesn't he travel with you?" Cotts asked. Randyl turned to face him slowly, his caressing of the flowers finished with.
"My father was butchered by the Ulrogg in front of my mother and my sister on the doorstep to our family home. Whether that was before or after they had slain the rest of my village is unclear but either way my father, seasoned warrior that he was, stood no chance alone and unprepared. They cut his head off. Just as they will do yours and all of your men unless we properly prepare to meet them in battle. If your Baron thinks he can hide away in his oasis and have his flowers protect him then he is very, very mistaken. I need to speak with him immediately." And without even waiting for a response he set off walking at pace, heading towards the mansion at the centre of the gardens, leaving the others to jog in order to catch up.
"I've already told you - as long as they have enough to survive! We don't want them starving on our streets but we simply don't have enough to give them any extra!" The voice echoed down the hall as they entered from the opposite end. Captain Cotts and his twelve guards along with L'non, Braxter and Ja'aris had managed to catch up to Randyl, just as he entered the building. The entrance hall's marble floor was spotlessly clean as were the tabards which hung from the ceiling depicting a variety of images - everything from creatures of mythology to constellations - all decorative and very pleasing to the eye. And yet, thought Braxter to himself, entirely at odds with the situation outside.
Captain Cotts nodded in reassurance to the guards at the outer doors as the walked past and lead the way to an internal dark brown, solid oak door which stood before them now.
"If they are so hungry, maybe they could draw lots and eat one of their feral offspring. That would solve both ends of the same problem! A-ha!" Laughter erupted from behind the door and to his credit Cotts flushed with embarrassment when Randyl glared at him. "Wait here...please" he mumbled putting his hand on the door. "AHEM!" He cleared his throat loudly and intentionally before thrusting the ornate double doors open and stepping through them.
The hall was long and narrow with pillars of stone spaced equally along each side, stretching from floor to ceiling. A spotlessly clean, freshly shined, white marble floor ran the length of the room and on the far wall tall windows stood open, looking out over the town of Boreham. More tabards hung from the ceiling, placed between the pillars, depicting coats of arms edged with gold filigree, proudly displaying family names - Killicov, Lanos, Ballachi - in gold leaf at the base of each one. Braxter's eyes rolled over each of them in turn, doing his best to keep his mouth closed.
"This land is ours" - the Killicov's were the oldest pioneers known. Their abilities to grow crops where no others could was known to every land worker from boy to man.
"Kill or be killed." The Lanos family were said to make hunting an art form and were the beginning of the livestock industry and the best at it still, according to most.
And finally the Ballachi crest. "Work hard, play harder." A family who had truly identified an inherent need within Kreatons people. They had discovered that wherever there was work to be done, there was a need to forget that there was still more work to do. Their meads and ales travelled throughout the land still,or had until very recently thought Braxter, often finding their way to the tavern in Brookdale to many a villagers enjoyment and, to a few, their ultimate ruination.
Here were the crests of some of the oldest families in Kreaton, names spoken of almost as legend, such was their standing in history. Braxter wondered how many members of those families still lived and of those who did, how many would live to carry their names in the days, weeks and years to come.
With this sobering thought in mind he looked around himself and was struck by how clean everything was, how sanitised, how sterile it all was. He noted that there were people in the room - a couple of courtly types, a young man who was presumably Baron Senerev seated at the end of the table and guards posted at intervals along the walls - but the room still felt hollow. Empty. As if those who were there were simply taking up space while wishing they were somewhere else, doing something else.
Captain Cotts walked quickly to the Baron's side and, bending slightly at his shoulder, began to speak into his ear. Braxter let his eyes wander the room once more noting that one of the "courtly types" as he had first presumed him to be had moved to stand at the Baron's opposite shoulder to the one Captain Cotts currently stood at. He was short, portly man with a bald head and thick black beard. His head beamed red to match the colour of his cheeks, shining out above his beard and despite the coolness of the room he seemed to be sweating profusely beneath his clothes. Of which there were many. "Fine garments can make a man" his Aunt Polly had once said to him but it seemed that they could also make a man look ridiculous. The man's bright red tunic with it's gold stitching made him look even bigger than he already was. And not in any kind of flattering way. His stomach bulged over his belt of brown leather, also edged in gold, and the buttons on his chest threatened to surrender their fragile grasp on their counterparts at any second. His beady eyes ran over Braxter, dismissing him instantly, lingered a moment on Randyl and then moved on to L'non and Ja'aris where they stayed, glaring intently and with obvious disdain at first one and then the other. The watchers seemed not to have noticed his constant scrutiny but Braxter found the mans manner rude and intrusive and began to develop a definite dislike for him, whoever he was.
Captain Cotts had finished speaking and stood upright. As he did so the Baron looked up, facing the doorway as if noticing for the first time that four road weary strangers and twelve of his guard stood on the threshold to his room. He turned to face the balding man in red and gold and whispered something behind his hand. The balding man in turn, leaned forwards to whisper a response in his ear. The Baron then said something once again covertly, using his hand to shield his words but either he was speaking louder or Braxter was listening more closely than before. The word "watcher" was used with the same distaste that someone might refer to something unpleasant that they had stepped in. He glanced again to L'non and Ja'aris but still they remained passive - black eyes staring, unblinking, faces without expression or emotion - as they watched the Baron's reaction to the news of their arrival.
The bald man in red was evidently beginning to bore the Baron who abruptly waived him away with one ringed and bejewelled hand. "Yes, yes, yes. Alright, I'll see them. And then we'll speak again Cotts." He raised his eyebrows at the Captain as a parent might do to a misbehaving child who should know better, before using the same jewel laden hand to beckon the four strangers into the room.
L'non and Ja'rais looked to Randyl but he bent at the waist and with a quick flourish of his arm, told them to lead the way before him.They did so with Randyl and Braxter following behind and the twelve guards close behind them. As they entered the room Braxter became very aware of the guards stationed around the walls who were taking careful note of them, their eyes running over him, sizing him as a potential threat before dismissing him cordially, no doubt, as not much of one. There were six of them in total with two more stationed either side of the door, added to the twelve who had escorted them from the gate, making twenty altogether. All armed, all trained. Braxter said a quick prayer to any God listening that this meeting went well. Well in this case meaning peacefully at least.
Now that they were closer to him, Braxter realised that the Baron was much younger than he had first thought. He wore his beard short, on the point of his chin and over his lip, more likely because he was too young to grow a full beard than from any fashionable reasoning. And his eyes - dark brown, sunken and lined prematurely through lack of sleep or worry or both. He thought back to some of the elders of Brookdale - Henery Woodrun or even Randyl's own father, Jonathan Jeroll - and remembered how lines could define a face, seasoning and giving a wizened look of experience. Not the case here, he thought. Senerev simply looked worn out and not just a little ill. He wore an topcoat of black with silver buttons which would have looked smart and conservatively authoritative if it had fit him. Instead it was loose on the neck, too long in the arms even when folded over as it was now and there was only so much that a belt could do to hold some clothing in place. His tunic spilled out on one side lending him a lopsided look even while he remained seated. In short he looked no more or less than a boy wearing his fathers clothes and trying to be a man.
Braxter began to think that the Gods were ignoring him.
"Sooo." Baron Senerev exclaimed as they drew up to his desk - two guards closing in front of them a clear sign that they were close enough. "I am Baron Senerev. Captain Cotts here tells me that you people have demanded an audience with me. Demanded and then threatened to use force if you don't get your way, no less. Correct?"
Braxter, L'non and Ja'aris all looked sideways at Randyl assuming that he would speak for them all but instead he said nothing and stood silent. Nor did he even look like he had any intention of saying anything. He stood motionless, staring fixedly at the bald, red man, a slight look of amusement twisting his mouth into the beginnings of a grin. After a moment of awkward silence, L'non took it upon himself to speak for them all. Or tried to at least.
"Our thanks for allowing..." was as far as he got.
"Well of course we would grant you an audience!" bellowed the Baron. "Two watchers, a boy and a...a...another turn up at my gates and threaten to do all kinds of wickedness unless I immediately grant them an audience - what else could I do?" Sarcasm and condescension dripped from his every word, only replaced momentarily by unconcealed disgust when he spoke the word "watcher".
Ja'aris' head dropped to study the floor at his feet, giving a slight shake of it before sighing deeply in resignation. Senerev continued pompously.
"And we, here in Boreham, at a time of pending invasion, when I have the full and considerable weight of my army here within the city walls, armed to the very teeth and just itching to do their bit to protect their land. When I have the town militia armed and ready to attack at my word, all told the better part of five thousand foot willing to die in defence of their homes, well I ask you - who wouldn't be willing to listen to four strangers who turn up unannounced and start making demands. It's not as if I have anything else to do!" His voice grew louder with each word until by the end of his speech he was shrieking at the top of his lungs.
Ja'aris continued to study his feet and Braxter couldn't be certain but he thought he heard him mumble something which sounded very much like "Here we go."
"Once again I thank you for the opportunity..." L'nons words faded once more as the bald man in red leaned again to speak in the Baron's ear. A short snigger burst from him at whatever had been said and he sat back in his chair, making himself comfortable in an over exaggerated way.
"Oh, my apologies. Please continue...er...watcher." He sniggered again, waving his hand casually.
L'non looked sideways at Randyl who's facial expression remained fixed, then at Braxter who shrugged apologetically.
"An army has invaded our lands, one which right now journeys here to attack your walls. They will kill all adults - men and women both - without mercy or hesitation and will enslave all your young before taking them as prisoners."
L'non paused once more while the bald man in red, leaned forward to whisper in the Baron's ear yet again.After a moment Senerev gestured with his hand, making a rolling motion, that L'non should continue.
"My companion beside me would like to assume control of your army in order to protect your people, repel this invading force and rid them from your lands. This I beseech you to do as a matter of greatest urgency."
The room was silent but for the low murmuring of the bald man in red as he continued his comments into the Baron's ear.
Braxter's eyes darted between the Baron, Randyl and the man in red and only after several moments did he realise that he was holding his breath.
"Aah, is that all?" Senerev smiled warmly but his eyes were like pin-pricks of flint - cold, hard and unfeeling. He sighed deeply and cleared his throat.
"I am fully aware of the force which threatens our land - I have been well versed in account after account of the attacks this army has made. Sailors Ridge fell in but one night. Hontellier in a little less. This is why my army stands ready. We are trained. We are strong. And we are Boreham. These walls have stood for over a hundred years. You have heard of the "Seven Year War" I presume?" He paused to catch his breath and raised his eyebrows at the rhetorical question. "Yes, well here we stood throughout that great war and here we will continue to stand. We are ready for this army, however many they are strong. Our walls are stronger still! And whilst I thank you for the time you have taken out of your busy life of watching to bring me news of something I already know, I would respectfully ask that you waste no more of my time." He stood then with his hands planted palms down firmly on the desk before finishing. "NOW LEAVE BEFORE I HAVE YOU THROWN IN THE CELLS!"
Spit flew from his mouth as his voice echoed around the room, his face bright red through his beard and his eyes glistening as they bulged from their sockets. Cotts stood motionless to one side of him while on his other side the bald, red man smiled self-satisfactorily, smug and full of self-importance.
L'non once again looked at Randyl who still hadn't moved or spoken since they had entered the room, and still didn't look like he was about to anytime soon. Braxter glanced about himself, increasingly nervous and all too aware of the armed soldiers surrounding them once more, taking no comfort in the fact that this was not the first time that day that he had found himself in this position. He looked sideways at Ja'aris who remained with his head bowed, still apparently deep in his own thoughts.
L'non sighed and shifted his feet before clearing his throat once more.
"Ahem...thank you once again for your..." he began but got no further.
"Have you seen the Ulrogg fight?" Randyl spoke so abruptly that he made Braxter jump, his voice loud enough so every ear in the room could hear. "Have you seen these monsters in the flesh?" He looked around the soldiers gathered there, meeting their eyes one by one. "Have you seen their weapons setting flame to anything they point them at? The way they attack with speed and precision, organised and skilled?"
The bald man in red had leaned forward to mumble his comments into the Baron's ear as soon as Randyl had begun to speak but the Baron raised a hand to him to stop him.
"No I haven't, but with the walls of Boreham..." Senerev attempted to answer.
"NOT YOU PUPPET!" bellowed Randyl, halting him in mid-sentence. "I ask the men here - those who will soon be facing the horde on the field of battle. The very same field which will soon be awash with the blood of those men if you continue with your delusion of safety. I speak to the warriors of Boreham when I ask if they have actually witnessed the carnage which can be wrought by the Ulrogg should they bring their full force to bear."
"Puppet?!? PUPPET?!?" seethed the Baron, spit flying through the air again as he spat the words. "How dare you!" The bald man continued to mutter under his breath from beside him.
"Yes, puppet! You are orchestrated by another. You're a child merely playing at being an adult and you are about to have every man and woman in Boreham killed through your ignorance and pride. You know this and they know this." Randyl gestured to the guards standing around him. "It's written on every one of their nervous, twitching movements. Look around you puppet - has any one of them even drawn steal yet?"
Baron Senerev did just that, noting that indeed to a man not one of them gathered there had drawn a weapon despite the increasing hostility of the situation. His mouth opened and closed rapidly as he searched for words, only to have the bald man speak on his behalf.
"That's because they are waiting for his Lordship's command, fool! They, unlike you and you companions, are disciplined and behave as soldiers, not barbarians." His voice was shrill, nasally and soaked deep in condescension, exaggerated somehow by the careful pronunciation of each word formed by thin red lips which smiled cruelly around yellow, crooked teeth. He placed a hand on the Baron's shoulder and the younger man slumped into his chair as if exhausted and relieved that someone else would take over from him.
"Aaah," breathed Randyl, a smile spreading widely across his face. "The puppeteer finally speaks."
He stepped forwards and even though his hands stayed visible before him, the guards did then drop their own hands to their weapons as if he'd drawn a sword.
"That's about enough I think. I am Seelan - not a puppeteer, merely an advisor to the Baron and I speak now on his behalf. You have been granted the audience you demanded and we have listened to what you have to say. You have been indulged long enough. His Lordship has chosen to ignore your words but thanks you for bringing your concerns to his attention. Captain Cotts - we will speak later regarding this incident and your complicity in wasting the Baron's time." He stared at the Captain fixedly and the insincere smile slid from his face leaving behind an expression which was somehow even worse. "Now turn around and leave while you still can. Go back to your caves or your trees, or wherever it is that you people live and do it now while you can still walk out of here."
Randyl's face didn't even twitch. He just continued smiling and calmly, almost casually, walked slowly past the table the young Baron was sitting at and, raising both hands out to either side of him, stood before Seelan.
"Sire, I beg you - just one more moment of your time?" he asked, his voice so warm and full of charm that even Braxter was taken aback. He coiled his arm around Seelan's shoulders gently turning him away from the Baron as he spoke to him in a low voice.
"I know now where the real power in Boreham lies. I can see now that we have been speaking to the wrong man...boy even..." and he gave a quick glance over his shoulder then, just long enough to earn a quick conspiratorial chuckle from Seelan. The two of them began to walk away from the Baron who remained slumped in his seat, face reddened and gnawing his bottom lip in agitation. The guards around the room remained poised, hands ready at weapons, waiting for the order to attack. "Let us walk, just for a moment, and I will speak frankly to the man who is obviously in charge here."
They moved slowly towards the back of the room, Randyl guiding the man who had called himself Seelan as he continued to speak in hushed tones, charming and seductive where previously he'd been hostile and Braxter wondered where his friend was going with this new tact.
"I didn't understand until you spoke but now it is clear to me that things will not change while certain people are in the positions that they currently occupy. He emphasised those two words, raising his brows as he did so before continuing. "Indeed, until those people are removed from those positions of power, I believe that any further discussion is a complete waste of time. I find that I might offer some help in order to better the current situation without encountering the problems that being a resident of Boreham might cause."
They had reached the window at the far end of the room by then and Randyl gazed out over the forecourt far below, the gardens beyond that and the sprawl of Boreham beyond that still. He paused thoughtfully, allowing his words to sink in. Seelan's brow creased and his eyes narrowed as he mulled over Randyl's words.
"What are you proposing exactly?" he asked, taking the bait for the trap that Randyl had set for him.
"I propose a complete and immediate removal of those parties who will not listen to reason until the beast is quite literally at the door." And with one almost casual fling of his arm, Randyl hurled the man through the window.
Chaos broke out in the room then. Shouting was barely heard over the ringing of steal being drawn by the guards but as quick as they were, Ja'aris was quicker still. He leapt across the table and in one smooth motion landed on one foot and one knee with his blade drawn and held across Baron Senerev's throat. He stared down into his face, the faintest of smiles tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Tell your men to stand down." He spoke quietly but still his voice, with it's clicks and clacks of his tongue on the edges of each word, carried across the commotion in the room."Please" he added as an afterthought, grinning fiendishly.
"Do it! DO IT NOW!" blabbed the Baron. Ja'aris had landed with his foot on the arm of the chair which had caused it to tip backwards at an angle, precariously balanced and in danger of tipping backwards or forwards. With his blade held where it was he wouldn't even have to move for the Baron to be killed - simply allowing the chair to rock forwards onto it's natural resting position of all four legs would be enough for him to be impaled on his blade. The guards all saw this and looked to their captain for guidance. Cotts looked around them, nodding quickly and immediately, all blades were lowered.
Only then did Randyl turn away from the window and face the room. Braxter felt quite sickened by the grin which was fixed on his friends face, as if he was pleased at the site he had been looking at from the window, as if he hadn't just thrown a man to his death from it.
"Now, let's try this again without the...interference of others." He walked over to the Baron's table and perched, sitting on the edge of it next to Ja'aris.
"Y-y-you won't get away with this. Do you have any idea who that was? You're all dead now. D-d-dead!" Senerev stammered, his eyes wide and bulging in his head which was stretched back as far as he could get from Ja'aris' blade, the knuckles on his hands white as gripped the table edge.
Randyl shook his head slowly and patiently, the smile never fading, his tone conversational, the only person in the room who seemed not be flustered by the situation. Braxter wondered how genuine that appearance actually was. Having seen him lose control previously he hoped it was very genuine indeed.
"Who that was is irrelevant. What he was was an obstacle. One which has been removed so that we may now move forwards with our business."
"Y-your business?" The Baron gulped nervously, seeming even more nervous now that Randyl was in such close proximity. His adam's apple lurched against Ja'aris' blade which was razor sharp and gleamed with the promise of what it could do. A high pitched squeal escaped the Baron as a thin trickle of blood ran down his neck.
"Our business. Yes. Our business of taking control of your army in order to fight the Ulrogg." He picked up the quill from the desk beside him and began to chew the end thoughtfully for a moment while looking around at the guards who, while they hadn't moved, were still far from relaxed. "Now, you must understand that time is short here, shorter than you may believe even, so please forgive me if I am curt and to the point but - this is the situation as I see it : my friends and I are skilled warriors, regardless of any preconceived prejudices any of you may be nurturing, skilled to the point where I would gladly pitch any of them against any of you and be confident that it is they who they would be alive to see the morning. We each have first hand experience in fighting these monsters and what I am proposing in lieu of your forces having, correct me if I'm wrong here, no experience of them at all, be that first, second or any other hand you may have, is that we are given temporary control of your...resources."
"Our soldiers." Captain Cots corrected.
"Hmm? Yes, alright." Randyl smiled over at him, conceding the point. "Your soldiers, so that they can be better utilised to vanquish this plague from our lands. Now, if I am of a clear understanding here, you are still a boy, correct?" Randyl paused and looked questioningly at Baron Senerev who's eyes flicked back and forth between him and Ja'aris rapidly. "Relax just a touch Ja'aris - our Baron wishes to answer."
Ja'aris relaxed his grip on the knife fractionally, grinning into the Barons face once more, all white teeth and black eyes. "Apologies." He said with absolutely no sincerity.
"How much of a boy exactly?" Randyl asked after a moment of Senerev gulping in huge lungfuls of air, having dared not breathe properly for a long time in case Ja'aris' blade cut deeper.
"Fi-fi-fifteen years" stammered the Baron, now sounding no more than half that number.
Randyl pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Fifteen years of age and whole life left to live ahead of you, a whole life as the Baron of Boreham - the man who stood against the Ulrogg. No!" He threw his arms wide theatrically, before clenching his fist tightly and extending his index finger, pointing it at the Baron. "The man who turned them away!" His voice raised almost in accusation of the title, his eyes wide and his teeth bared in a wolfish challenge.
Braxter had to admit that he was impressed - he'd never known Randyl to have such a knack for theatrics, but then he supposed there was a lot about his friend which he didn't know now. Nevertheless, his display had almost been enough to convince him that Randyls course of action made sense.
Almost, but not quite.
After all, they'd turned up quite literally on the doorstep, completely unknown and unannounced and not without a huge weight of suspicion hanging over them, then after killing the ruling power's chief adviser, announced that they were assuming control of the army. Add to that the fact that Randyl himself was around the same age as the Baron who he was claiming was only a boy and the whole argument started to lose conviction a little. Also, thought Braxter, what did Randyl actually know about leading an army into battle? The idea seemed insane to him.
"A-a-alright" gulped the Baron in a high pitched voice. Ja'aris relaxed his hold still further, allowing deeper breaths to be taken by the boy who's face by now had turned quite red.
"Alright?" Randyl asked, his eyebrows raised and his face at once a picture of innocence. "Alright what, my Lord?"
The baron cleared his throat and turned his head left and right, up and down, as if making sure it was still attached before he continued. "I agree to relinquish control of the armed forces of Boreham into your care until such time that the Ulrogg threat has been vanquished." He announced formally and almost with an air of relief.
Randyl smiled satisfactorily and let out a long sigh. Braxter and L'non also let out long sighs of their own - their relief being more genuine however while Ja'aris rolled smoothly to one side, taking to his feet and allowing the barons chair to drop onto all four legs with a loud bang.
"A very wise decision for such a young head my Lord and one which I am certain your people will be glad you made." Randyl had returned to stand beside Braxter, facing the dishevelled and shaken Baron and the room was eerily as it had been only moments before.
Only lighter by one body.
"Only until this invasion has been dealt with mind. I have your word on that?" Senerev straightened his clothes and did his best to look like he was back in control of the situation. His eyes ran over the guards standing around him while they, in turn, ensured their eyes were looking anywhere but at him.
"But of course my lord. Only until then and not a moment longer. Shall we, Captain?" And with that Randyl turned quickly and strode from the hall with Captain Cotts following close behind and Braxter, L'non and Ja'aris a few paces back. Ja'aris managed to make it all the way into the hallway before erupting with laughter.