When Lord Quavry had completed his Vows, Marak fixed his stare on the Marshal. “It is your turn, Marshal,” instructed Marak, “and I would like to know your name.”
“I am Marshal Patoga of the Sorgan Clan,” uttered the officer, “and I will not offer Vows of Service to Lord Marak. I am already sworn to Lord Quavry and I do as he bids me to.”
Marak nodded at the officer’s proper response. “Lord Quavry,” he ordered, “you will instruct your Marshal to utter the Vows to Lord Marak.”
Lord Quavry could care less about the officer’s Vows. He had just been subjected to the humiliation of giving them. Why shouldn’t Marshal Patoga suffer, as well? Besides, the Vows were worthless, anyway. “Do it,” ordered Lord Quavry.
Marshal Patoga shook his head as he uttered the Vows of Service to Lord Marak. When the Marshal had completed the Vows, he fixed Marak with a stare. “The Vows which I have just recited are worthless until they are given to Lord Marak personally,” he intoned. “Unless you plan on taking us to Fardale, we are no closer to a resolution of this situation than we were when I entered the room. You will never get Lord Quavry or myself out of the mansion and I am sure that Lord Marak will not offer to come here to receive our Vows. Why don’t you put the sword away and I will promise you a quick and painless death?”
“That is very gracious of you, Marshal,” smiled Marak. “If I can arrange for these Vows to be given to Lord Marak directly, can you be counted on to honor them?”
“The Vows of Service are sacred,” lectured Marshal Patoga. “There is not one man on the Sorgan estate who would dispute that. If Lord Quavry gives his Vows to Lord Marak in person, Watula Valley will follow Lord Marak. Now, seeing as you can not accomplish that miracle, your fun is over. I demand that you surrender immediately or I will sound the alarm.”
“If you sound the alarm,” retorted Marak, “the three of us will die needlessly. You have given your word, Marshal Patoga, and I accept it. There is one thing you should be aware of before I remove my sword from Lord Quavry’s throat. I am Lord Marak of Fardale.”
The Marshal’s jaw dropped and Lord Quavry screamed as he unintentionally cut himself further on Marak’s blade. Marak swiftly withdrew his sword from Lord Quavry’s throat, but he did not return it to its sheath as he heard running footsteps approaching the Lord’s suite. Two men burst into the room and Marshal Patoga quickly shouted for them to halt.
“Kill him,” shouted Lord Quavry. “I demand that you kill him now.”
The two men raised their swords, but Patoga shouted for them to stop. “Lord Quavry can not order you to kill this man,” the Marshal stated. “If you act on Lord Quavry’s delirious words, you will be making him break his Vows of Service which I, myself, heard him utter. Leave us. Wait in the outer room until we call for you.”
Throughout the exchange Marak stood poised to act. His first swing would end the rule of the Sorgan Clan and the rest would take as many of the Sorgan soldiers as he was able to. Lord Quavry continued ranting and calling for Marak’s death as Marshal Patoga inserted himself between his men and Lord Marak. After he ushered his men into the sitting room, Marshal Patoga closed the door and leaned against it.
“I am sorry, Lord Marak,” declared Marshal Patoga, “but I must require proof of your identity before I can allow you to leave this room. If you are not Lord Marak, you will not leave this room alive.”
Lord Quavry was hysterical and had scooted off the bed and was cringing in the corner next to his slave mistress. Marak shook his head in disgust as he turned to face Marshal Patoga.
“Of course, Marshal,” agreed Marak. “I am sure that you have had people spying on Fardale for the Army. Bring one of them to this room.”
“Mogry would know,” cried Lord Quavry. “Send for my son.”
Marak looked at the Marshal and shook his head. “Mogry was killed yesterday morning by your other spy, Tachora. I’m afraid you will need to rely on one of the Army spies.”
Marshal Patoga opened the door and gave instructions to one of his men. He closed the door and returned his gaze to Lord Marak. “Why would Tachora kill Mogry?” he asked.
“I announced my decision not to retaliate with an attack on Watula Valley and he grew desperate,” replied Marak. “I also informed him that I knew about his dealings with Lord Quavry. He stated that the death of Mogry would force me to act because it was provocation enough for Lord Quavry to order an attack.”
“I always thought the man a fool,” nodded Marshal Patoga. “I trust Tachora is dead, as well?”
“Certainly not,” smiled Marak. “He is alive to present testimony about Lord Quavry’s dealings. I understand that mediators from the Lords Council will be here soon.”
A knock on the door interrupted the discussion and the Marshal opened it to allow a soldier in. The soldier stood there with an open mouth and eyes as large as eggs as he stared at Lord Marak. “Lord Marak?” he exclaimed. “Here in Watula Valley?”
Patoga shook his head as he shoved the soldier back out the door with orders to remain in the next room. “My men will have much to learn from you, Lord Marak,” Patoga smiled. “If I may, I would suggest that you allow me to assemble my men for the issuance of their Vows to you. I would also like to get a doctor for Lord Quavry.”
“Don’t you need Lord Quavry’s order to assemble the men?” questioned Lord Marak.
Marshal Patoga shook his head as he gazed at the blubbering hulk in the corner. “I have given you my Vows and I have witnessed Lord Quavry do the same,” he clarified. “I also witnessed Lord Quavry break those very Vows by ordering your death. All Sorgans already owe their allegiance to you because by capturing Lord Quavry, you have captured the Sorgan Clan. You are within your rights to strike him dead and the Sorgan will follow you. If he objects to my men taking the Vows, I suggest that you do exactly that. The man is without honor.”
Lord Marak nodded as the Marshal left the room. Marak stepped over and extended his hand to the young slave girl, helping her to get up off the floor. “I think you will look much prettier in a different color tunic,” smiled Marak. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up and find a quiet place to recover from this unfortunate incident?”
The woman pushed her errand curls back as she smiled up at Lord Marak. “Is it true that you have freed the slaves in Fardale?” she asked.
Lord Marak bestowed a fatherly smile on the young girl and nodded. “As they will be freed here in Watula Valley, as well,” he added. “No one will force you to do what is not right anymore. Go, get cleaned up.”
The young girl smiled and bowed as she left and the doctor came in before the door closed. He barely spared Marak a glance as he hurried to Lord Quavry’s side. Marak opened the door and left the doctor to his work. In the sitting room was an assemblage of plumed officers and Marshal Patoga was in the center of them giving instructions. The officers immediately stiffened and saluted their new Lord. Marak allowed the Marshal to orchestrate the ceremony and all of the high level officers recited their Vows of Service to Lord Marak.
Marak insisted that the Marshal keep a written log of each swearing and while the Marshal thought the order was superfluous, he complied. Each Cortain left immediately after swearing his Vows to assemble his own men. As the soldiers of the Sorgan Army were swearing their Vows to Lord Marak, the new Lord of Watula Valley was scribbling a note of his own. He gave the note to Marshal Patoga and ordered that it be delivered by a single man into the hands of Lectain Zorkil in Fardale. The note explained that Marak was safe and that there would be no war with the Sorgans. He further instructed that Fardale return to normal duties and instructed Cortain Tagoro to return to Watula Valley with the messenger.