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Matter of Thyme by Vlork
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The guards on duty at the palace gate were apparently not looking for
anyone, much less a man with a raven. Had they, they would have
perhaps reacted differently when a tall, dark figure approached them.
The sergeant on duty stood up to block the figure’s way and glared at
the shape in the shadows, unimpressed.
“Halt! Who goes there?” As the figure stepped forward out of the rain,
its shape cleared, into that of a tall man in a black robe with a
raven on his shoulder. The man looked annoyed in the yellow torchlight
of the well lit guard post.
“Pardon me, Sergeant. I have urgent business in the castle,” the man
said. His voice was pleasant, cultured, and precise. The guard shook
his head.
“I have orders to let no one through. It’s the middle of the night.
Whatever you need can wait until morning.”
The man straightened. “I am Commander Bledwell of the First Regiment.
Salute when you speak to me and address me as sir!”
The raven cawed. The sergeant, confused, decided that saluting was
probably the best action at this time. He snapped to attention and
gave a crisp salute. “Sorry, sir!” He had heard the stories of the
First Regiment.
“Very good, Sergeant. I am pleased to see that you are keeping alert.
Obviously, you should not allow unknown persons access to the castle.
But First Regiment commanders are hardly unknown persons! Do not
obstruct your superiors. Or you will find yourself in trouble,
sergeant. Now stand up straight and don’t let any unauthorized
personnel through.” He walked past, and turned back. “By the way, you
didn’t see me come through. I’m conducting a surprise inspection of
the palace guard.” With that, he swept through the gates.
* * *
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