Snippet #8872

Darron sighed heavily. He was resting in a armchair inside the war room of Daein. He was "Watching the door" as he called it, while Pelleas talked over with his advisor and a few other generals. He was a tad bored, actually hoping that the assassin would come back and try to assassinate Pelleas as well. He was dying of boredom. But he couldnt go enjoy himself, as he was quite worried about Pelleas. He had already beaten himself up for letting the assassin slip by him and kill Miciah. He wasnt going to let that happen to Pelleas.

His gear leaned on the wall next to him, his massive tower shield, and greataxe. His blade was always on his hip, in a large black leather sheath. He rarely carried a helm on him nor did he need it. He was a tall man, and a large one too. He could easily pick another man up with one arm. He listened in on the conversation, his dull blue eyes keeping visuals on the door.

"Pelleas, I'm not sure what else we can do. You are aware that Begnion is a significantly larger country, with quite a few more men then ours." an older general said.
"Not to mention, their moral is tons higher! It does not look good for you, Mi'lord." another chirped.
"Well." Pelleas said, looking amongst the men surrounding him. "Then we'll just have to out-fight them. If there is anything in this war we have, it is supplies. We have always been a country of plentiful supplies. And use unorthidox tactics, hide in buildings, in crates, archers fire down from atop roofs. There is simply no way we're going to just 'give in', gentlemen!"
"But, your Highness..." the all stuttered...

"But nothing, General. You are dismissed, and as are you all. If you need me, I will be in my private study. I need to think as well..." Pelleas finished. Darron pushed himself from his sitting position, his armor clanking and pounding against itself generously. He walked over to the door to Pelleas's study, stepping inside. It looked normal. Nothing out of place, no motion...nothing wrong.
Pelleas stepped around him, nodding to him in return. "Thank you, Darron...would you leave me now?"
"Your Highness." Darron said sternly. "I am obligated to protect you, wherever you reside."
"Darron. I understand your concern, as Miciah died recently. I assure you, we are all burdened by this loss...but you mus'nt be paranoid. There are only two ways in and out of this room; through the door, and through the window. Someone would have to be an imbicle to try and scale a castle to get to me. So the only way someone is to get through is through those doors..." Pelleas spoke to Darron as he walked towards a dark oak desk in the room.
"Sire, you..." Darron tried to interject.
"I am capable of defending myself, no? You've seen my skill with magic, and If anything, I can say a spell faster than a man can run. Please. Stop your fretting, and relax, friend. I am safe enough." Pelleas told him gently. Smiling, Pelleas turned around gazing out the large window behind him. Darron nodded. "As you wish, Sire." he stated, turning around and stepping out the door, closing it behind him. Maybe Pelleas was right....maybe he was being too cautious.

Darron walked from the war hall, decending the stairs, and stepping into the main hall. He walked slowly down it, his eyes locked in front of him, glazed over, lost in though. He was brought back around when he stepped into the courtyard. The sound of steel against steel? It must've been coming from the barracks. He plodded across the courtyard to the barracks, swinging open the door. Sure enough, the soldiers that were inside the building were sparring. He smiled, walking amongst them. Perhaps he could make some fun out of this drab day after all!