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 Angraalattached in the center. Lee fought back the urge to smash it to pieces. Captain Lanmore knocked firmly, then pushed the door open.
Inside was a room with a large oak desk at the far end and a round table on which rested various maps and charts in the center. A long rope hung from a small hole in the ceiling just behind the desk. To his right, a plush, tan suede couch and four matching chairs were arranged in a semi-circle, each with a small brass end table and facing a hearth that burned brightly. Three polished brass lanterns hung from the ceiling center, and two more protruded from each wall at ten-foot intervals. Behind the desk hung a mural depicting a gleaming champion on horseback, leading a charge against an elf army. Between the lanterns stood an oak bookcase that held beautifully leather-bound tomes along with a crystal decanter and glasses.
A man sat behind the desk dressed in a fine white shirt and a red jacket. His salt and pepper hair was oiled and combed back in regal fashion. His tan skin gleamed in the bright light, offsetting his fragile build and narrow features.
“Ah, Captain Lanmore,” said the Commander. His voice was tinny and a bit feminine. “I see you have arrived ahead of schedule. And with a new officer.”
Lanmore bowed his head sharply. “Yes, Commander. The message said to come with all speed.”
“Indeed, it did,” said Lord Pollus. “And yet you chose to travel with the recruits, rather than on horseback.” He rose to his feet. Though thin, he was quite tall — as tall as Lee — and walked with the effortless grace of a true noble. He sighed. “I suppose there is nothing to be done.” He took notice of Lee, and looked him up and down. “And you are?”
“I am Barath, my lord,” said Lee, bowing as Lanmore had done.
“Just Barath?” Pollus shook his head and frowned. “Yet another commoner.” He turned and went back to his deck. “I suppose if Captain Lanmore deems you worthy, you will do.” His eyes fell on the captain. “He is your responsibility and under your command. And please…if you don't have a last name…choose one. People will think you’re one of these native Angraalbarbarians our gracious King has scattered among our ranks. Dreadful people.”
“You will be pleased to know that Barath fought one before we set out,” said Lanmore.
Pollus raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? And you survived. Impressive.”
“He did more than survive,” said Lanmore, puffing out his chest. “He defeated him as if fighting a child.”
“Impressive, indeed.” Lord Pollus opened his desk drawer and pulled out a piece of parchment and scrawled something on it. He blew the ink dry, then pushed it across the desk. “This is your commission…Barath. If for no other reason that ridding the world of an uncouth beast, I am happy to give it. I left enough room for you to put a proper name.”
Lee took the parchment, and bowed. “Thank you, my lord.”
Lord Pollus reached back and pulled the rope. A moment later a thin, blond boy in a dark blue tunic and trousers scurried in.
“Show this man downstairs,” Pollus ordered. “He is to be given a commission under Captain Lanmore.” He waved off the boy, dismissively. “As for you, captain, I will speak with you now.”
He looked sideways at Lee. “I will join you as soon as I can.” He then turned to the boy. “If I am not down in time, show him to the barracks when he's done.”
Lee bowed one last time and followed the boy downstairs. He was shown to a desk where a scrawny wraith of a man was busy scribbling on one of the many pieces of parchment piled high on his desk. Lee handed the man his commission.
The man didn't look up but only opened the parchment and began writing notes. “What is your surname?”
“Drakis,” Lee replied. Drakis was the name of a fiend in a story he heard as a child. He almost smirked at the thought, but it was the only thing he could think of at the time.
“You have an odd sense of humor,” the man said off-handedly. “And before you ask, I know that tale as well. All men of the north do.”
Lee sat quietly as the man spent the next half hour writing, checking and double-checking, each note. Finally, he handed Lee a small round wooden token with the number one painted on either side.
“Give this to the quartermaster,” He straightened the pile of papers on his desk. “He’ll give you what equipment you’ll need.”
Lee stood up and turned to the door. The blond boy was standing just behind him, waiting patiently. Half way to the barracks, Captain Lanmore caught up with them.
“I'll take it from here, boy,” said Lanmore. Without a word the boy ran back to the keep. “Did you pick a name?”
“I'll be known as Barath Drakis,” Lee replied.
“A dire name to be sure,” he said with obvious approval.
“Will it be possible to see my nephew?” asked Lee.
“I thought you weren't close,” said Lanmore. “In fact, if I recall you nearly took his head off the last time you spoke.”
“I would not have it end as such between us,” Lee explained. “Though I have no great affection for him, he is my sister's child.”
Lanmore nodded. “I'll see what I can do. Until then, we need to get you settled in. We'll be here for three weeks.”
“A short time for training,” said Lee.
“Pollus likes you,” said Lanmore. “Mostly because you killed Lars. But I assured him that you understood military discipline, and also that I would train you, personally.” He stopped and faced Lee. “Do not disappoint me, Barath Drakis.”
“I will not,” said Lee. A tinge of guilt struck him. He knew that he would soon betray the captain’s trust. And even though he was the enemy, he was beginning to respect him.
“Good.” He slapped Lee on the back. “I enjoy having officers without the arrogance of nobility draped about their shoulders.”
The barracks was no more than a two-story warehouse, with dozens and dozens of three-man bunks lining the walls and a series of long tables and benches in the center. A brazier, filled with hot coals had been placed between the tables on either side of the entrance. A crude flight of wooden spiral stairs stood dead center. Only a few dozen men were scattered about. Some sleeping, others playing cards and dice at the tables, and a few reading over paperwork or going over maps. All took notice as they entered, but none spoke.
“Officers of the Reborn King live the same as the common soldier,” said Lanmore as they entered. “We're lucky to have arrived when we did. The day watch is on duty now, so we'll not have to spend the next hour on introductions. The night watch are mostly commoners like us. They don't care much about who comes and goes.” He walked toward the stairs. “We'll be bunking on the second floor.”