An alabaster tower pierced the sky, seeming to gleam in the midday sun. We were approaching the city gates, but the Eagle’s Tower had been visible for miles. Barnabas told me that this tower, the highest in the castle of the king, had been the home of a convocation of eagles for several hundred years. They had been a larger, more deadly species of eagle and had served the royal House of Orel for hundreds of years before a mysterious sickness had infected and killed them all.

It was no coincidence that the king’s coat of arms displayed an eagle rampant with a crown atop its head.

We had been on the road for almost two weeks. After exiting the last of the Forest of Tantrevalles, most of which I had unknowingly skipped when the Master of the Realms had transported me outside the town of Bermindon, we left the Duchy of Creshey several days earlier and then ridden through Overwatch Pass while replenishing our supplies at the fort that guarded the pass.

I had been unsure whether I would need to dip into my stash of coins that were stored in the Bag of Holding, but Barnabas had simply waved a page with Duke Benedict’s seal as we entered the fort. The soldiers had filled our saddlebags, and we continued our trek. I was disappointed not to be spending the evening in an inn at the town below the pass, but Barnabas had been getting more and more insistent about hurrying to see the king.

The gates of Armenelos, capital city of Paravel, were opened wide to welcome us in. Guards at the gates dressed in shining metal armor examined the paper with Duke Benedict’s seal and then allowed us through with a salute.

The streets of the city were covered with tight-fitted cobblestones which made it easy for wagons to meander their way through the city, and there were wagons aplenty. Barnabas told me the city held several hundred thousand people, and many tons of food was transported each day to feed the populace.

I was overwhelmed.

Streams of people, wagons, and carriages surrounded us. I had never seen so many people and started to feel as if my collar was too tight and that I was in a room too small to hold me. I took slow, deep breaths to easy my nerves. Regretfully, the smell of the city was less than pleasant, so the deep breaths made me cough. I did my best to breathe only through my mouth.

We rode through some kind of market where stands had been set up as merchants announced their wares. The sounds of fierce bargaining came to my ears.

“How can I possibly sell for such a price? You’ll ruin me! My children will be left with no food on the table!”

“This cloth is so soft, but I’m afraid I can’t possibly afford it.”

“Oh, milady, I’m sure we can come to an arrangement. It matches your eyes so well!”

“Stop! Thief! That little scoundrel stole some apples from me!”

I found myself inadvertently slowing down to take in the sights, and Barnabas tapped my arm.

“Come, we should hurry. Our news is urgent, and the king must be told as soon as possible.”

I nodded and hurried my horse along. Beside me, Rafe rode with a hood over his head. He turned slightly from time to time, and I suspected his awareness was far greater than mine, sensing things that I didn’t even notice. He had changed to an emerald green cloak, much better kept than the scruffy, food-stained brown cloak that he had been wearing when I first met him. His two swords were crossed and scabbarded on his back in worn, leather sheaths, and he guided his steed with his legs alone. I had come to realize that he was an expert horseman. He seemed to be excellent at everything to which he put his hand.

We made our way through two more gates, entrances in walls that divided the city into three separate portions. After each gate, the buildings and people grew more gentrified. Ragged clothing disappeared. Quiet storefronts replaced the open marketplace with its loud, fierce activity. We passed tidy, well-kept homes that must have belonged to well-to-do merchants or artisans.

At the innermost circle of the city we passed large estates, clearly the homes of the rich and powerful. No stores or inns marred the landscape as we made our way to the fourth and final gate of the city, the entrance to the king’s castle. Soldiers garbed in deep blue with a golden eagle embroidered on their clothing guarded the portal to the keep.

An officious looking man in full armor with a richly embroidered cape stepped forward, looked us up and down with a doubtful look on his face, and asked skeptically, “And what business have you with the House of Orel?”

I realized that our travel-stained clothes and rather pungent odor didn’t make for the best of impressions. Barnabas hesitated, and I could see that he was nervous. I hadn’t thought about it before, but he was actually quite young, in his early 20’s, and might not have much experience with royalty.

He plucked up his courage and leaned down from his gelding with the duke’s missive in hand.

“I am Barnabas, squire to Duke Benedict, and I have an urgent message from the Duke of Creshey. He bade me present it to the king, and I beg that you present us to him with all haste.”

The officer frowned at him and examined the duke’s seal carefully.

“This is indeed Duke Benedict’s seal, but the king is meeting with his council. We will find you quarters, and he will be apprised of your arrival when his meeting is done. Come with me.”

Barnabas swallowed and then entreated, “Please, this message must not be delayed. There has been an orc incursion at our border, and the king must be made aware of the situation. We think it may be more than a simple tribal raid.”

The officer’s head jerked up, and his eyes narrowed.

“I see. Very well, dismount and follow me. Your horses will be stabled, and I will send word ahead to the seneschal. This is above my pay grade, but the seneschal can interrupt the council if he deems it necessary.”

He swept forward with a swift gait, and we scrambled to keep up. We passed through a well-equipped training yard. Young soldiers were practicing under the watchful eyes of veterans who emphasized their commands and corrections with shouts and insults while clearly working their charges into shape. My eyes drifted over the forms that were being taught, and I could see how simplistic they were--simple swings and thrusts and blocks that a true expert would easily avoid on their way to a victorious attack.

Soldier. Level 3.

Soldier. Level 5.

Soldier. Level 4.

I wondered how I would fare against these men in a fight. My fingers twitched, jerking towards Veritas and then away. That would be foolish. I wasn’t here to fight with the king’s men.

Sergeant. Level 10.

Sergeant. Level 12.

Well, the veterans would certainly be much more of a challenge. I wondered how good they were.

We came to a halt at a vestibule that was guarded by soldiers dressed similarly to those at the keep’s gate except that these clothes were edged in silver.

“Wait here,” the officer commanded before he strode away, to find the seneschal I assumed.

Officer. Level 17.

Congratulations! Your Analyze skill has increased to level 4.

Finally! I had Analyzed my entire party from Creshey early in our journey, but my skill had not increased. They had all ranged in level from 6 to 9, except for one quiet soldier who had been level 14. I had wondered why he had not been in charge of the party--Barnabas was only level 8--but he never put himself forward or countermanded any of Barnabas’s commands.

Of course, all I saw was ??? whenever I tried to Analyze Rafe. Clearly, his level was far beyond my own.

The officer who had led us into the castle returned with an older, even more richly dressed man leading the way. His hair was gray but not yet thinning, and a bushy gray moustache emblazoned his upper lip. His gray eyes were fierce and penetrating, and his age had clearly not affected his lean, well-muscled frame.

“Well?” he demanded in a harsh voice. “Speak up! Sir Donald tells me you claim to have news of an emergency in Creshey?”

“Yes, my lord seneschal, we have proof of what might be an imminent invasion on our eastern border by orcs. I bring an eyewitness to attest to this.”

Barnabas gestured to me, and the crotchety gentlemen before us turned his gaze upon me with his eyebrow raised in question.

“Eyewitness? What exactly did you witness that you would make such a bold claim?”

Uncertainly, I stammered, “Orcs at Spiral Castle, my lord.”

The seneschal’s frown deepened.

“I see. That...is ill news. Come, you were correct to insist on seeing the king. This news will not wait.”

Turning a crisp about face, the old soldier marched deeper into the castle. We scrambled to match his stride, and he finally came to a set of double doors guarded by two men in the king’s livery. Without a word, he simply motioned the two men aside and shoved the doors open.

We entered a room decorated with stained glass windows letting in rays of colored sunlight through the images of eagles, battles, and crowns. Perhaps half a dozen well-aged gentlemen sat around a large round table, and on the far side of the circular table sat a man in his early 30’s. Though the older men around the table wore richly embroidered clothing with what looked to be golden threads and garish symbols sewed into them, the younger man sat ramrod straight in a well-tailored but simple outfit of blue and gold. Thick dark brown hair covered his head, and his deep blue eyes leaped up in surprise at our loud entrance.

The seneschal immediately dropped to one knee with his head bowed. Barnabas and the rest of Duke Benedict’s men did the same, but I hadn’t been expecting this and was left standing until the seneschal turned his head and gave me a dirty look until I knelt as well.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Rafe had not knelt. Ignoring the seneschal’s angry gaze, he stood still with just his head moving from side to side, examining every inch of the room with care.

I heard him mutter.

“Not bad. I like what they’ve done with the place…”

Who was this man? When had he been here before and why?

“Your Majesty,” said the seneschal humbly. “Duke Benedict has sent you a message of great import.”

The king stood.

“And who has brought this message?”

Still on his knee, Barnabas answered, “I am Barnabas, Duke Benedict’s squire. I am the one who has brought the message.”

“Very well,” commanded the king. “Bring it to me.”

His tone was friendly but firm, the voice of a man used to obedience.

Barnabas rose and made his way forward. After dropping back to one knee, he offered the missive with both hands, head bowed in respect.

The king waved irritably. “Stand up straight, soldier. I don’t demand this kind of behavior. I’m a man, not a god.”

I heard a disapproving cluck from the side but couldn’t tell which old counselor had made the sound.

Barnabas gave him the note, and the king examined it carefully before pulling out a knife and slicing the duke’s seal open. His eyes roamed over the message before his head bumped up sharply.

“You!”

He pointed at me.

“You don’t wear Benedict’s colors. Are you the man of whom this message speaks?”

“Uh, if it mentions an eyewitness, then yes. That would be me.”

“The Duke says you’ve seen an invasion of orcs on the eastern border. How do you know this? What exactly have you seen?”

Suddenly, for the first time since we had entered the city, Rafe spoke.

“You should call Michael here,” he grunted. “He’ll want to hear everything, so you might as well have him hear it all now while you do instead of telling it all over again.”

Everyone in the room except for those of us who had journeyed from Creshey recoiled, wide-eyed and surprised.

The king asked, “Who are you? And how did you come here? How did you get past the guards?”

Rafe drawled, “I came in here with everyone else. It’s not my fault you’re all blind.”

The seneschal drew his sword, and one of the counselors with a trim white beard and a red tunic whipped out a cane from his side. The two wooden halves of the cane fell to the floor to reveal a gleaming saber. From the familiar ease with which he handled his newly revealed sword, I could see that he knew his way around his weapon.

“Protect the king!” he shouted grimly before leaping forward spryly to position himself between us and the king.

“Guards! Guards! The king is in danger!” shouted another counselor.

A third counselor raised a hand and spoke a word, and a dark glowing ball appeared above his palm and began to spin faster and faster.

A fourth counselor drew two daggers from somewhere in his clothes, one in each hand, and joined the swordcane guy to place his body in front of the king.

I had to admit, these old fellows reacted a lot faster than I would have expected.

Rafe sighed.

“Oh for crying out loud. If I had wanted to kill him I would have just done this--”

His hands blurred, and two knives were vibrating in front of the king, impaling the table in the space between his hands.

“It’s not as if any of you would have stopped me. None of you even knew I was here.”

Guards came pouring in behind us, weapons drawn and ready to fight. They surrounded us, and I leaped to my feet and drew Veritas. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I wasn’t going to just stay kneeling and defenceless while my life was being threatened.

Rafe hadn’t moved since throwing his knives.

“Stop!”

The king’s shout froze everyone.

“You--knife thrower--come forward so I can see you better.”

Rafe took one step to bring himself directly into the path of yellow light shining through the image of a knight’s shield in the window.

“Two swords…” the king whispered.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

Rafe shrugged. “A friend of Michael’s. We go way back. My full name is Raphael Alonso Delgado.”

A look of shock flashed across the king’s face before he regained control of himself. His eyes drifted up and down Rafe’s form and seemed to pause on his face...or maybe on the two hilts peeking over his shoulders?

“Sir Reginald,” the king bit out, “fetch the Knight Protector. Tell him that his presence is required immediately.”

Sir Reginald protested, “But, my king, just because this man--”

“Now! Send for him now!” the king ordered fiercely.

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

The seneschal saluted and then hurried from the room. I looked around at the soldiers encircling us with halberds and swords. Their hands were tense but steady, eyes bright and unblinking.

Royal Guard. Level 21.

Okay. There were 12 of these ridiculously high level guards surrounding us. Even with Rafe on our side, I didn’t think we’d have a chance if a fight broke out. Barnabas and the rest of the duke’s men were frozen in fear. They had come to the same conclusion.

That dark ball above the sorcerous counselor’s hand seemed to hiss and spit, spinning in place with bits of dark smoke drifting away from it. The old man’s countenance was held still in concentration as he kept whatever spell he had cast at the ready, in case he needed to blow us all up. At least, that’s what I assumed that dark scary ball would do.

Long minutes passed. I wondered how long the counselor could keep the ball floating and ready. Was it hard to do? How much mana did it take? What level was this guy?

Counselor. ???

After maybe ten minutes, the seneschal finally returned with another man on his heels. I knew he had to be the famous Michael, Knight Protector of the Kingdom of Paravel, a swordsman without peer who was possibly eternal, or at least very long-lived. One of the 200. Eager to get my first glimpse of this matchless warrior, I turned my head slightly so my gaze would fall upon him.

Hunh. This was Michael?