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Chapter 2.2 - Prepare to Leave

“Isn’t he a bit young?” murmured Tegeere doubtfully.  He and Oulen stood on the step of the front gate to the King’s Keep watching as the porters hauled luggage on to a simple cart in the muddy yard.  There before them, Emory directed the other men, pointing here and there and diligently making sure all was packed in an orderly fashion.


Oulen frowned deeply as he watched Emory re-inspect the small cart that would carry their baggage and the diplomatic gifts from Emerald.  With satisfaction, he noticed that Emory took just as much care with each strap and buckle on the cart as he did with the suit of armor that he had racked in the training courtyard so many days ago.  The youth was as meticulous as he was able, and the King’s Man felt quite fortunate to have him.


“Well…?” gruffed Tegeere softly, prompting the older man, “I’m sure you like him, Oulen, as I imagine that you were very much like that boy at the same age.”


Oulen snorted, “No… I didn’t smile so much.  However, Emory is one of the more perceptive youths that I’ve met in a long time, and he will do well in your service, sire.”


“No doubt,” muttered Tegeere, rubbing at his chin.  “I am confused, Oulen.  You have the pick of any man amongst my armsmen and staff.  You should have guards befitting your importance.  Yet, all you take with you is this boy.”


Oulen’s dark eyes sought King Tegeere’s from beneath a craggy brow, “Perhaps a showy display would help, but there are too few to be spared as it is.  Emory will do.”


Tegeere winced.


Oulen quirked an eyebrow towards Tegeere, before grinning toothily, “My apologies, but I did not mean to disregard your offer, my King.  Truthfully, I am quite pleased with Emory.  Not because of his youth, but because of his character.”  The old man grunted as he watched Emory gently grab one of the gawking children that found themselves so frequently in the keep’s courtyard by the collar and pull him back out of the way of a group of porters carrying a heavy chest.  “I need a true man of the Orders, Tegeere.  Someone strong minded and unafraid, intelligent and courteous, and most of all able-bodied,” Oulen returned his gaze to his King, “Emory is what I need.”


“A boy who the Orders turn their nose up at?”


“No,” Oulen said, “Most Orders would have been ecstatic to have him in my day, Tegeere.  My Order would have.”


“Your Order no longer exists, Oulen,” answered Tegeere, patting his closest adviser and friend on the shoulder, “And for that, I am truly sorry.  I could have used the Gatekeepers at my back in this dangerous hour.”


Oulen smiled faintly, “For what it is worth, my King, you do.  What remains of them.”
“I know,” Tegeere replied, patting the shoulder once more before clasping Oulen’s hand, “Good luck, my friend.  May the Memory record your deeds of glory.”


“And yours as well, my King.”


Tegeere nodded as he turned quickly away and stepped back through the doors of the keep, his eyes heavy with grief.  For he feared, deep in his heart, that he would not see the old man again.

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