Morning everyone. I woke up in about two minutes before my alarm this morning. I reached for the snooze button and only with great effort resisted. So I am having a cookie with my coffee as a reward. But first, the prompt. Ready those timers and off we go.
Kind of like the obnoxious sorcerer as a character. Not sure what story to plop him into though.
Wednesday, May 14th: He heard the whispers.
He heard the whispers. He knew they wondered about him. ‘And why shouldn’t they,’ he thought. He was a force to be reconned with. His efforts had helped the king topple his enemies and claim their lands as his own. His skill, his talents, his magic had often been the decisive element that won the battle. Let them talk of heroes and their swords. Let them sing songs of shining battle armor. He knew who the real power was.
And the kin knew it as well.
Lethan was certain that was why he had been invited today. That he was being brought in to receive the honors due him. He knew that was why the others whispered. That he was being given the honors usually reserved for warriors.
‘Its about time,’ Lethan thought as he strode down the corridor. He was wearing his finest black robe, stitched with beads of jet and obsidian. They sparkled darkly catching the light as he moved. He knew he was a figure of awe and might. He was power incarnate.
He reached the doors and the two soldiers guarding it snapped to attention letting him pass without contest. They did not whisper but he saw them exchange a look. He smiled to himself Even the lowliest guards knew. He swept into the room and saw it had been cleared of fawning courtiers and petitioning merchants. Only the king and his inner most guard remained.
Lethan wondered why the room had been cleared. Surely if he was to be awarded some great honor than there should be a crowd to witness his triumph. He kept his face clear of emotion as he moved forward. There was a tension in the air. It was unexpected. Lethan did not like the unexpected. He prided himself on knowing the goings on well before anyone else. He had known he was to be called to the king three days before the summons was sent, had he not?
Yet there was a worm of uncertainty as he continued forward. Something was amiss. There was a shadow on the king’s brow. Lethan hastily realigned his thoughts. This was not a time to graciously accept accolades it was a time when he needed to show that he was in deep ponderous thought. As he arranged his features to show such an image, he mentally riffled through all of the information he collected, trying to choose which fragment would better serve him.
“Lethan,” the king said. “So good of you to come. We have a problem in the north.”
Lethan nodded. He sifted through the information he had. “Of course your Majesty,” Lethan said. He offered a short bow, even as a piece clicked into place in his mind. At the king’s command he straightened. “This is about the Rastan?” he hazarded.
The king sighed, nodded and Lethan fancied he looked a little relieved.
“I should have known you would be as concerned as I,” the king said. “We have had reports,” the king gestured to the side and Lethan could see a table was placed, it was piled with maps and papers. Many looked like messages taken from the legs of messenger birds. The king led Lethan over to the table even as the Sorcerer tried to find more information about the Rastan. While he was thrilled he managed to place the name of the king’s worries so cleverly, there was not much he knew about the Rastan.
Deciding that listening would serve him better than speech, he followed and let the king speak.
Ten til Midnight 