The Lonely Star -- Chapter 4

[piosenniel]

Tarcil sat down heavily at his desk, and rubbed his brow. The start of a headache played behind his eyes, and he closed them tightly for a moment, willing it to recede. The pain subsided, and he opened his eyes slowly. There before him lay the directive from Gorthaur.

'Gorthaur!' he swore to himself. 'The King not gone a fortnight and already HE issues orders as if HE were King!' He rubbed his brow, again. What was he to do? He was only a lowly Captain with no real power of his own, save over these benighted halflings. Gorthaur wanted the Guard increased. As if a dragon cared about these miserable creatures! And let the Wyrm take them if he would! They were useless, lazy, and not to be trusted. Tarcil cursed the day he had ever taken this assignment.

He sighed. And now Gorthaur wanted the Guard increased, but the order came with no increase of monies for their costs. Finances were stretched thin, as it was.

There was nothing to be done but draft a reply to the one who now wielded power in this land. He pulled a clean sheet of vellum from his desk and placed it in front of him. Dipping his quill in the inkwell, he began.