The Royal Palace, Corus, Tortall - June
What time was it? Kawalsky still found himself going for a wristwatch that hadn't been worn in over a year. It was late, he knew that. The sun wouldn't be up for a few hours at least. Torches lit the way along the stone passageways as he walked in step behind two of Jon's personal guards, a squad within the Palace Guard. When you were roused from sleep by the King's personal guards, you knew something had happened.
Charlie ran a hand through his hair, noting off-handedly that he needed a haircut again. He didn't look fit to talk to the King. There hadn't been time to shave. A splash of water from the basin in the barracks of the King's Own and a quick change into his uniform, which was thankfully ready to go and not as rumpled as he felt, was all he could manage.
He frowned as they rounded a corner and headed away from the King and Queen's chambers and towards a part of the palace he hadn't been to before. Suspicion was mounting with each step towards this supposed audience with the King. Jon didn't call on him any more. He had, for a while, to discuss the outsider's view on the kingdom's defenses and military strategy from another world that might give Tortall a slight advantage over Maren or Scanra in time of need. Since Raoul had taken Charlie on as a member of the King's Own, the requests for his presence had stopped. Whether that was to do with not wanting the appearance of favoritism or if Jon had simply decided to stop humoring him, Charlie didn't know. But the gap in face time with the King made this summons out of place.
They reached a door. One man stepped back behind Charlie and kept watch down the corridor. The other opened the heavy-set door and jerked his head to tell Charlie to go in, which he did. The room on the other side wasn't a room at all, but another corridor. The door seemed to be a way of stopping anyone from going any further. He looked left, then right. The left passage was empty, but the right had the towering figure of Lord Sir Raoul of Goldenlake, Knight Commander of the King's Own, pacing in a very uncharacteristic way. Raoul was more of a leaner. He would find a wall, hunch against it and frown deeply. Pacing? That was something new.
Charlie approached cautiously and when he caught Raoul's eye, the pacing stopped. It was only when he was a few paces from Raoul that he was close enough to see how ragged the Knight Commander looked. The corner of his mouth was tight, his jaw clenched, the frown on his brow deeply set. "What's going on?" Charlie asked, stopping in front of Raoul and a door to his left. It was the question he'd first asked when waking up, the question that the guards didn't (or couldn't) answer.
"Do they have assassination attempts in your world?"
Charlie tensed. Before he had a chance to speak, the door swung inward. Both men's heads turned. George Cooper, former King of the Rogue and now Baron of Wintershore was the last person he'd expected to answer the door. He stepped aside so they could see into the room. Around a table sat the Prime Minister, Sir Gary of Naxen, the realm's chief healer Sir Baird of Queenscove, Buri and Queen Thayet, the King's Champion Sir Alanna of Olau and King Jonathan himself sporting a grimace he was trying to hide and his arm in a sling.
"Gentleman," Jon called to them. "I think you'd best come inside."
Charlie ran a hand through his hair, noting off-handedly that he needed a haircut again. He didn't look fit to talk to the King. There hadn't been time to shave. A splash of water from the basin in the barracks of the King's Own and a quick change into his uniform, which was thankfully ready to go and not as rumpled as he felt, was all he could manage.
He frowned as they rounded a corner and headed away from the King and Queen's chambers and towards a part of the palace he hadn't been to before. Suspicion was mounting with each step towards this supposed audience with the King. Jon didn't call on him any more. He had, for a while, to discuss the outsider's view on the kingdom's defenses and military strategy from another world that might give Tortall a slight advantage over Maren or Scanra in time of need. Since Raoul had taken Charlie on as a member of the King's Own, the requests for his presence had stopped. Whether that was to do with not wanting the appearance of favoritism or if Jon had simply decided to stop humoring him, Charlie didn't know. But the gap in face time with the King made this summons out of place.
They reached a door. One man stepped back behind Charlie and kept watch down the corridor. The other opened the heavy-set door and jerked his head to tell Charlie to go in, which he did. The room on the other side wasn't a room at all, but another corridor. The door seemed to be a way of stopping anyone from going any further. He looked left, then right. The left passage was empty, but the right had the towering figure of Lord Sir Raoul of Goldenlake, Knight Commander of the King's Own, pacing in a very uncharacteristic way. Raoul was more of a leaner. He would find a wall, hunch against it and frown deeply. Pacing? That was something new.
Charlie approached cautiously and when he caught Raoul's eye, the pacing stopped. It was only when he was a few paces from Raoul that he was close enough to see how ragged the Knight Commander looked. The corner of his mouth was tight, his jaw clenched, the frown on his brow deeply set. "What's going on?" Charlie asked, stopping in front of Raoul and a door to his left. It was the question he'd first asked when waking up, the question that the guards didn't (or couldn't) answer.
"Do they have assassination attempts in your world?"
Charlie tensed. Before he had a chance to speak, the door swung inward. Both men's heads turned. George Cooper, former King of the Rogue and now Baron of Wintershore was the last person he'd expected to answer the door. He stepped aside so they could see into the room. Around a table sat the Prime Minister, Sir Gary of Naxen, the realm's chief healer Sir Baird of Queenscove, Buri and Queen Thayet, the King's Champion Sir Alanna of Olau and King Jonathan himself sporting a grimace he was trying to hide and his arm in a sling.
"Gentleman," Jon called to them. "I think you'd best come inside."