before the fort, and ordered the soldiers to escort the recruits to their barracks. Lee was told they were a mile west of the main garrison. He knew this may present a problem if things went wrong, but there was little he could do about it.
“You will come with me,” said Lanmore. “I need to present you to Lord Pollus, the garrison commander. He's a bit of a pompous ass, but a competent leader. Keep quiet and only speak when spoken to.”
Lee followed Lanmore to the gatehouse. Two guards halted them.
“And you are?” asked the guard.
“You know very well who I am.” Lanmore stepped forward bringing his face an inch from the guards. “Are we to do this again?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, sir,” he replied, with disdain. “I simply didn’t recognize you.”
The guards smirked then stepped aside and allowed Lanmore to pass, but stepped in Lee's path when he tried to follow.
“He's with me,” said Lanmore. “Allow him to pass.”
“Not until I get word from Lord Pollus...Captain.” The guard stiffened his back. “Until then, he can wait here with us.”
Lanmore glared at the guard, then stalked into the fort. Lee waited silently. The guards didn't seem interested in speaking, and completely ignored him. After ten minutes, the captain returned and shoved a piece of parchment into the guard’s chest. He motioned for Lee to follow.
“They can't stand it when a commoner advances through the ranks,” explained Lanmore, as they passed through the gatehouse. “In their mind, only a lord should command.”
Lee cracked a smile. “In my experience, if only lords commanded, it would take a year to march an army ten miles.”
Lanmore threw his head back in laughter. “I wouldn't repeat that in the officers’ barracks. Especially round those bloody Baltrian fools. Most will run straight to Lord Pollus, to try and curry favor. And frankly, he isn't known for his humor.”
“I'll keep that in mind.” Hearing that Baltrian lords would be near did not ease Lee's mind. He hoped that they were too young to recognize him.
The main yard was filled with soldiers drilling and marching. About three-hundred men in all. The barracks were as high as the curtain wall, with two catapults placed on each of the flat roofs. The keep was much larger than in the other fort as well, standing two stories high and covered with arrow slits capable of raining down terror inside the parade yard, should the walls be breached. The clash of metal, stomping of boots and shouting of orders roared through the air. Lee marveled that the sound did not carry outside the fort, or even through the gatehouse. The design must have held its own secrets. Even the catapults appeared sophisticated compare to others he'd seen. He saw only a single hand crank, and a long metal tube placed just above the arm. Lee guessed that it held the shot. If a single soldier could operate it, instead of the usual four, it would be a devastating weapon. A lone platoon could wreak havoc.
The door to the keep was unguarded, and still, Lanmore paused and took a deep breath. He flung open the door and Lee followed him in. The gray stone floor and walls were lined with weapon racks and maps. To his left, were three rows of long tables, with a door at the far corner, leading to the kitchens. To his right where he expected there to be an officers’ lounging area, were dozens of desks and small tables. Cotton and linen clad bureaucrats were busy at their duties, not bothering to look up as Lee and Captain Lanmore passed by.
“Welcome to the heart of the kingdom,” joked Lanmore.
“This is where we take our meals?” asked Lee.
Lanmore shook his head, chuckling softly. “No. I'm afraid the keep is reserved for the commander and these fine fellows. We take our meals in the barracks.”
They entered a door directly ahead that led to a long hall, ending in a flight of stairs leading upward, then left, to the second level. At the top, the hall split off in two directions, each with several doors along the walls.
“The bureaucrats stay in these rooms,” said Lanmore. “They’re quite comfortable compared to our quarters.”
“A soldier has no need of comfort,” said Lee.
They turned left for several yards, then right, until they reached an elaborately carved mahogany door, with a polished silver carving of broken scales, the sigil of Angrääl attached in the center. Lee fought back the urge to