A scrubbed-pink and clean-smelling freeman kneels before the Duke's feet, bows his head, and offers up a sturdy shield which appears to be covered in reptilian looking scales.
"To His Grace the Duke of Remton, I bring you greetings and a gift from His Majesty, Velax, King of Arcaea!"
Lokenth kept his eyes lowered respectfully, his heart beating. A letter of recommendation, was all he could think about, words he could not voice, for it would be inappropriate for one so lowly as him to come out and ask. Yet it was all he could think of. That, and the number of swords the Duke had with him, and that his neck was exposed so conveniently...
Tenal accepted the polished shield from the freeman, nodding in satisfaction at the balance and heft before he passed it along to a servant.
"Thank you...Lokenth, was it? It's a fine present from His Grace and you have delivered it diligently in these troubled times. Since you wouldn't accept gold, take this stamped letter declaring your good service. Also, you are welcome to join the feast tonight, should you wish. We come back victorious in the west, so we celebrate and refit before heading off again. Drink and food, as much as you can fill."
With a friendly wave, Lokenth is dismissed.
He bowed again before leaving, hardly knowing what to do with such an invitation. His feet felt lighter than ever and he walked as if on air back down to the tavern he was staying at, letter clutched still in his hand, a tear in his eye.
But there was still one thing to do. Once in the privacy of his room, he found one of the last pieces of paper he had and, carefully dipping a cheap quill into some ink, slowly wrote out the letters and words telling of the successful completion of his task, and his reward, and that he was all too eager to take up the burden and honor of this other request to repair some item or another. This letter was addressed to none other than His Majesty, Velax, King of Arcaea.
As the sun began to sink in the sky, the hour of this feast approached. Well, he'd been invited by none other than the Duke of Remton, how could he refuse? He stifled a giggle as he put on his finest clothing: once upon a time, it would have been unseemly, even dangerous, for him to attend some victory feast of nobles. Now it might be unseemly for him
not to. How the wheel turned, and was still turning...
He had quite an appetite as he approached the assembly where the battle-hardened Arcaean army men, their commanders and captains, knights and lords had set up feast tables and opened casks of wine and ale.
"Hold up, you," a guardsman carrying a tall spear and a round shield growled to him as he came near, blocking the path with his spear arm. "This is for the Royal Arcaean Legion only. Begone now."
Lokenth's stomach fluttered, as it almost always did before armed authority figures. But he said, "I'm Lokenth Daycryn, and His Grace, Duke Tenal Quasath, Margrave of Remton invited me for services I did render him today."
The man chuckled. "You've got his titles correct, that's very impressive. Go on, now, don't make me toss you out on your arse."
Lokenth pulled the piece of paper from his vest. "I've got a letter from His Grace right here, bearing his signature and his stamp. You can go and find the Duke, explain to him that you're refusing to let in one of his personal guests, or you can read for yourself the Duke's own words." He held out the paper.
The guard frowned, peering suspiciously again at Lokenth and glancing at the paper. Of course the letter itself was a recommendation of knighthood, not specifically about the feast. Still it bore what was undeniably the Duke's seal. Even if the guard couldn't read, that was obvious enough a sign. And if that wasn't enough, he had a similar letter from no less than the King.
After a moment, grudgingly, the guard straightened his spear and waved his hand dismissively at the paper. "Alright then." Then, amazingly: "Sorry. Can't be too careful in times of war."
"Think nothing of it, friend," Lokenth absolved the man.
He was loving this.
