Alistair Vakarian's Story

The warm blood washed over his hand like waves on a beach yet this was no crystal blue water but the life force of a man. The sword cleaved through flesh with deadly ease, it's master hacking down those before him effortlessly. The mighty war horse breathed out large billows of smokey air in the chill night air. Atop the stallion strode the greatest hero of recent account, the man who had never tasted defeat at another man's hands, The Lion, Lord Commander Alistair Vakarian.

Alistair pulled his masterfully crafted blade from the corpse of a pirate as his men flooded the city. Hooves and the pounding of soldiers boots resounded in the night as the screams of the surprised pirates sounded in the twilight hour. They did not know, they could not know that the Lord Commander's network of spies were as skilled as they were. Despite his expert spies the infamous Rondalion General arrived with his men minutes too late.

Unsure of what the pirates were after he rode in heavy with men ready to hack down all intruders. Hack down they did for as Vakarian led his troops through the city they soaked the soil with the blood of the sea rats. Some were fool enough to charge at them, cutlass or axe in hand only to have their belly opened by a knights blade or to find a spear in their chest. The Lion was at the head of his men, riding through the tiny coastal village atop a magnificent white stallion. His keen eyes scanning the failing light for signs of his enemies. Those who fell in his field of vision were swiftly struck down. This was no battle, this was an extermination yet something tugged at his confidence for in the recesses of his mind Alistair knew this was too easy. Cowards, thieves and knifemen were the bulk of a pirate force true enough but there was always a tenacity to them when fighting them in a group. This was sloppy, unorganized, as if Alistair was merely getting a hold of stragglers who'd wandered away from the main group looking for plunder. His fears were proven right as his war horses hooves met the beach sand.

"Bloody pirates..."

Alistair cursed aloud as he clenched his fist in anger. He was forced to watch helplessly as the pirates rowed off with their prize. A prisoner that had long spent his days in the dungeons just outside Arv Rondalion. It was here that the genius Bang Cordinus worked night and day on his wonderous inventions for his Lady, Isodell FitzWarren. The achievements of Cordinus have contributed greatly to the success of the Lowlands in the past few years helping The Warden to turn her territory around from an impoverished, divided land into a shining example of prosperity and splendor.

Alistair's men were cleaning up the last of the sea vermin that had been left when The Lion rode in at the head of a Legion. Alistair had no intention of slaying all of them now, not until he found out what information he could get from them if any.

"Mormond."

Alistair said as he turned his attention away from the water and to the dying pirates on the shore. One of The Lord Commander's favored lieutenants was a man in his mid forties whose experience on the battlefield was well documented and his loyalty to his general was beyond question. Walter Mormond ran to Alistair's side and looked up at his commanding officer dutifully.

"Yes sir?"

"Round up four or five. We'll see what honor there is among thieves when we begin to fillet them alive."

"Aye sir."

Mormond said dutifully with a quick salute before rushing off to carry out his general's orders. Alistair watched as his men began to collect some of the stranded pirates and as others slayed the ones not needed. His mind drifted to The Warden and wondered as to her mood whence she returned. If he was one of these pirates he would truly begin to fear when The Warden returned to discver she'd been robbed. May the Maker help these poor bastards when Lady Fitzwarren returned.

In the keep of Arv Rondalion sat the Lion himself. Behind a massive oaken desk littered with scrolls, leaflets and maps he sat scribbling away on several different pieces of parchment. The room was dark save for the few candles positioned near and on the table where the general was working. Before him were dispatch orders, supply manifests and troop reports. Alistair was preparing, preparing for what was to come. A storm was on the horizon, he could feel it in his bones. Not just in the Lowlands but a storm that would reach out all over Penumbria. Other men would misjudge the pirate king as little more than a sea rat with delusions of grandeur. Alistair Vakarian was not other men, he did not get where he was today by allowing arrogance to guide his minds eye. Nay he took this threat very seriously. The pirate king Typhon Sturmaz would receive the full attention of the fabled general and that battle of wits, that game of chess that ended in blood would teach the sea raider a hard learned lesson. To challenge the lion is to accept defeat.

The sound of the the quill scratching on the parchment and the momentary pause as it clinked gently in the ink well was the only sound in the dark room. It was then that the sound of the chamber door opened and in stepped the sounds of booted feet. The cadence in which the person walked was not the fine rhythmic foot falls of a soldier but the stumbling, saunter of a drunk. The boots stopped in front of the desk before their owner plopped himself down in the seat position across from Alistair. The general ignored the man for several moments before sighing softly and folding the parchment he had been working on. Alistair's eyes flicked up, annoyance playing across his handsome features.

"You're drunk... again."

Alistair said sharply before reaching for his candle wax and pouring a small amount on the fold of his correspondence. The man before him laughed as he ran his hand through his chesnut hair.

"Tis splendind to see you too big brother."

He said cheerfully. Alistair took his sigil, a metal sealer with the etching of the noble lion upon it and pressed it into the wax, sealing his letter. It was then that he set his work aside for a moment to look at his brother, Leolf Vakarian. Leolf is Alistair's younger brother by several years. Barely into his mid twenties, the dashing young Vakarian has spent his years of wealth doing what most men do. Drinking, bedding maidens and carrying on like a fool was how Leolf spent his days and as such his elder brother despised his character. Leolf had talent, true talent for he was intelligent, brave and a fine swordsman. Perhaps one day he could even rival The Lion but until he took his martial practice seriously he'd continue to be nothing but a skilled novice. Alistair has tried countless times to get Leolf to take his duties seriously and has had more luck teaching a fish to fly.

"What do you want Leolf?"

Alistair asked bluntly, his cold attitude could crack bone. His younger brother chuckled it off as always and leaned back in his seat, comfortably lounging in the Lions den.

"Why must everyone always assume I want something? Can I not just come to visit my dearest brother?"

Alistair shook his head in disgust and grabbed his quill before returning to his work.

"Do you forget who you are speaking to, Leolf? We were raised together, we fought together, I know you better than you know yourself. Now tell me what you want or leave me in peace so I may get some work done."

He said as he began tallying up supply line costs and cohort assignments. Leolf smirked before raising his hands up in show of mock surrender.

"Very well, I need money."

"No."

Alistair replied shortly without even looking up from his work. Leolf looked at him as though he'd just transformed into a hydra.

"Ali, now wait a minute, you're not even going to consider it?!"

"No."

Leolf leaned forward now, completely enthralled by his task of trying to convince his brother.

"Brother, I owe money alright. A lot of money to some very dangerous people. I don't think you understand-"

"No, I don't think you understand!"

Alistair barked, cutting him off. His keen eyes locked onto the ale addled eyes of his brothers who had fallen silent now.

"You are a Vakarian! You are of one of the oldest and most noble houses in all of Penumbria. The lion does not beg and scrape to appease wolves!"

Alistair growled as he stared down his brother. Leolf averted his gaze, not willing to look his brother in the eye any longer. Alistair slowly got to his feet and began walking around his desk.

"Leolf... You are my brother, the future of the family name as I have no heirs. You have squandered the gifts The Maker has seen fit to grant you with all of your life. Take this as an opportunity to prove yourself worthy of the sigil on your armor. Vakarian's do not bend knee to thieves. If they wish to take their due from you in blood give them more blood than they can handle, use that damned sword you prance around with."

"But Ali-"

"But nothing! It is time you start earning the name you bear brother. If you kill them then perhaps you'll begin to see what it means to be a Vakarian. If they kill you..."

Alistair snarled as he returned to his seat, roughly.

"Then I'll be rid of your foolishness once and for all."

Leolf could say nothing, he just stared at the ground in shame. Alistair glared at him in anger, his gaze burning through his younger brother.

"Go.... now."

Leolf looked ready to speak again but thought against it. He got to his feet and turned to leave.

"Leolf... On your way out speak with the lieutenant."

Leolf turned around and looked at his brother in surprise.

"I will give you six men... six. Clear out this thieves den of yours. With them dead your debt should be absolved."

Leolf smiled wickedly before nodding.

"Thank you brother."

"Out."

Alistair growled in return. Leolf nodded and took his leave leaving Alistair in peace finally. The general shook his head with a long sigh as he returned to his work. Leolf did not know how lucky he was to share a name with Alistair.

Dear Vakarian,

My plans have changed and the orders I sent you halted. I still want both Sturmaz and Cordinus alive. However, for the time being, they can wait. Something of much more import has been brought to my attention and I am in need of you here at Court. Make haste.


~ Your Lord and Master, Isodell FitzWarren

The Lion lowered the note brought to him by way of a raven with a scowl. Uncertainty hung heavy in his mind, something was not right. He could feel it, down in the very core of his bones he could feel a shift on the winds. The letter from the Warden was... cryptic at best. The kind of correspondence Alistair had witnessed Lady FitzWarren right before just as she was ordering him to mobilize his men and lay siege to whomever she was writing to. She was planning something for Alistair but what that could be was anybody's guess. The Lord Commander folded the letter neatly before placing it in his belt and making for the door of his quarters. Uncertain or not he had been given an order and he was going to carry it out.

In minutes he was in the courtyard of the massive keep in his armor with his weapons afixed to his belt. His crimson cloak whipped behind him as the wind picked up. Alistair was making preparation for his departure, ensuring the hold would be looked after in his absence. Once all was ready he mounted his white war horse along with two of his most trusted lieutenants. Just as they were getting ready to depart a familiar face rounded the corner. With a scantily clad harlot on either arm the brother of The Lion Sauntered through the courtyard. Obviously drunk once again and obviously enjoying life.

"Brother! You're leaving this late at night? But the night is dark and full of... Oh devil what was the line?"

Alistair arched his eyebrow and looked at his brother with disgust as his lieutenants exchanged glances and chuckles.

"It's the morning Leolf. You must not notice seeing as how you are barely sober enough to stand."

Alistair said harshly. Leolf looked offended and shoved one of the women away from him to prove he could stand on his won.

"I can too-"

His words were cut off as he tumbled to the floor. The lieutenants laughed as Alistair's magnificent war horse slowly trotted to loom over the younger Vakarian.

"You are a disgrace Leolf... So much so that I will not endanger the hold by leaving you here unsupervised. Get a horse, you're coming with me."

Leolf looked up at his brother as if he'd just issued him the most horrible of tortures.

"But Ali, riding won't sit well with me. My stomache-"

"Stop your whining, you sound like a child. Now get a horse, come now quick march!"

Alistair barked. Two soldiers quickly brought a horse to the younger Vakarian brother and helped the drunk into the saddle. Leolf scowled at his brother but did not speak again. The Lord Commander, his brother and the two lieutenants rode out from Arv Rondalion to meet the Warden at her request. The Lion only wondered what horror awaited them.

The ride south to Langsmerth was quiet and uneventful. They past few people on their ride south and those few souls they did see had little interest in stopping to converse with the stern looking general and his party. Alistair's two lieutenants attempted to make idle conversation once or twice as the days passed by but the words hung limp in the air and were carried off on the wind. The mood was not sour yet stale as if it was plain to see no one among them actually wanted to be going on this ride. Leolf couldn't help but look at his brother curiously. The infamous and legendary Lion, so proud and noble. Always he put his Warden above himself in all things yet now as he rode the true man shined fourth. He had his own thoughts, his own desires and even his own fears he merely refused to allow them to be brought to the fore front but this ill omen ride to the capitol gave Leolf just a hint of the man beneath the armor. In a way it made Leolf more compassionate towards his cold older brother who was constantly scolding him and nay saying at him. To know that there were things even the dutiful Lord Commander didn't want to do was refreshing. Leolf allowed a smile to break out on his lips but rode in silence until night fall.

The four men made camp near a thicket before securing the horses and settling down to eat, drink and get a few precious hours of sleep before resuming their trek in the morning. Langsmerth was not terribly far from Arv Rondalion, about a two or three day ride for swift courier who made no stops. For four armored men on war horses, with provisions and making regular stops to eat and rest Alistair was looking at his journey taking the better part of a week. Standard for the travel between the capitol and Arv Rondalion. The Warden wouldn't be expecting anything less.

As the night sky rumbled with distant storm clouds and the remnants of the thunders master fell from the sky Alistair sat a top a large stone looking at the dying fire as his men slept. His crimson cloak wrapped around him the rain soaked him through and through yet he barely seemed to take notice. His eyes were fixed on the failing light of the camp fire. His mind deep in contemplation. He almost didn't notice his brother getting out of his bedroll to come sit near him.

"Trouble finding sleep Ali?"

Leolf asked casually, using the boys childhood nickname for his older brother. Alistair didn't move, didn't even take his eyes off the fire.

"Keeping watch."

Alistair replied flatly. Leolf's eyebrow arched as he followed his brother's line of sight to the fire and back.

"For what? Fire demons?"

He asked in jest. The simple joke broke Alistair's minds wandering and he finally turned to look at his brother, even if it was only briefly.

"What do you want Leolf?"

Leolf sighed with a chuckle and ran his hand through his dripping wet hair as the rain continued to fall.

"When are you ever not going to ask me that?"

"When it stops being relevant."

Alistair fired back bluntly. Leolf chuckled and shook his head as he now turned his gaze to the fire and allowed himself to become lost in the flickering light as his brother had.

"What do you think she wants?"

The younger Vakarian asked casually.

"Doesn't matter. She is our lord and master. Her word is law therefore any command given will be followed without question."

Alistair replied with absolute loyalty and conviction. Leolf chuckled again but this time looked at his brother.

"Any command?"

He asked suggestively. Alistair looked at Leolf curiously with an arched eyebrow, silently asking what he was playing at.

"What if she asked you to kill me?"

Leolf inquired with a sadistic smirk. Alistair stared at him in almost disgust.

"Why would you ask me that?..."

Leolf just shrugged playfully as he responded.

"Just a question."

The Lord Commander leaned forward with a growl and a glare.

"Then you'd better get some sleep for you have a big day tomorrow. What with the execution and all."

Alistair's words were cold and full of resentment. Leolf merely laughed and backed off as he stood up with his hands up. That was about as close to a joke as he'd ever heard from his brother but he knew when not to pester The Lion.

"Fair enough, I'll leave you to your fire gazing."

Leolf made his way back to his bedroll and Alistair was once again left in peace and quiet. His mind going over the very same question his brother had posed him moments before. What did the Lady Isodell have in store for him?...

It was on the sixth day that The Lion and his small band reached Langsmerth. The sun shone brightly in the sky despite the fresh smell of soot hanging heavy in the air. As Alistair galloped along the road he sniffed with a face that twisted into concern. His brother Leolf cast him a quick glance of worry as he too smelt it.

"What is that?"

"Fire."

Alistair replied darkly. A scent this heavy meant that at least one building had burnt down but the cause of that fire was unclear. Alistair had learned over his long career to expect the worst and hope for the best. With hope the fire was merely some common cooking fire that got out of hand, realistically Alistair expected it to have come from some bloody scene of chaos. His first thought was Sturmaz. Was the pirate king truly this foolish? To attack the capitol was a fools gambit but if he does show his sea whipped face here then he shall die and put this whole nonsense to bed.

Putting the thoughts of what caused the fire into the recesses of his mind Alistair and his three men rode in silent vigilance the rest of the way into the capitol. As they rode they past several men erecting what appeared to be the makings of some shrine or temple. Alistair arched an eyebrow at the men curiously but rode by without a word.

Langsmerth itself was magnificent. Truly a spectacle to behold and no surprise that this was the seat of power for the high king. Langsmerth boasted high walls and a host of well trained and armed men guarding it dutifully, truly The Lion was impressed. Alistair and his men were stopped several times on their way into the capitol by guardsmen but once inside they were pestered little. They rode all the way to the keep to where Lady FitzWarren was residing for the time being and stabled their horses.

As the Rondalions walked up the stairs to enter the keep Alistair's eyes scanned his surroundings. The people were nervous, something had transpired the previous night, he was certain of it. If the damned pirate king truly thought himself so far removed that he could attack the capitol not only was he foolish but he was down right mad. His military tactics were laughable at best. Any general worth his steel would make short work of this brigand, The Lion would step over this sea scum as a man steps over a child.

Putting the thoughts of war behind him The Lord Commander spoke to a steward briefly who led him and his men to the chambers of the Warden of the Lowlands. He reached for the door handle but paused and turned to his brother who was looking around in wonderment.

"Leolf..."

He said in an authoritative tone.

"Yes brother?"

"In the presence of the Warden you are not to speak unless spoken to. Do not touch anything and do not wander around like a slow child, is that understood?"

Leolf's mood was dampened considerably but he nodded. Alistair's fiery gaze locked on to his brothers in impatience.

"Have you lost command of your tongue boy? I asked you a question."

Alistair snapped angrily. Leolf sighed in embarrassment as he was scolded in front of the other lieutenants.

"Yes br-"

"Sir."

Alistair corrected. He had told Leolf a thousand times that around superiors he was to address him in accordence to rank not family status. Leolf grumbled but replied as commanded.

"Yes, sir."

Alistair stared his brother down for a few more tense moments before turning around and pushing open the door. The Lord Commander and Supreme General of The Rondalion Order stepped into the room with well timed and measured steps of a career military man. He crossed the room and stood before Lady FitzWarren respectfully at attention.

"My Lady Warden, your general as commanded."

Alistair said sharply with respect and honor due to his lord and master.

Apparently, knocking was no longer a courtesy that was required.

Isodell was just about to administrate a good tongue lashing to whoever was impudent enough to interrupt Murdock and herself as they were hunched over a small table, studying and discussing the designs the Knight had secured from the Scribe when they realized it was Lord Commander Vakarian who had disrupted them.

"My Lady Warden, your general as commanded."

The two menacing frowns worn by the Lady and her Knight, almost instantly and identically transformed into Cat in crème smiles.

“Vakarian!” Isodell beamed gliding forward. “Come, there is no need for such formalities.” . . . especially, seeing as now we are going to be family.

However, she refrained from saying that last out aloud. Though Sir Murdock understood fully without Isodell having to say a thing.

How fortunate, Murdock mused entertained, that he was already kin to Isodell.

Huffing a small laugh as he leaned back against the small table, arms folded, watching from behind animated eyes as he could not help adding, “Indeed Vakarian. Formalities are so very gauche between family . . . and friends of course, are they not?”

“Ignore him.” Isodell commanded with a flip of her wrist when, Alistair raised a questioning brow. “He is simply much too pleased with himself today. Come, sit.” She ordered as she sat down herself and pointed to the chair across from her. “Tell me, how faired your journey? Not too plagued I hope?” She questioned not really caring.

He was obviously alive, so it must have been bearable enough, she cared little after that fact.

“Leolf.” Isodell acknowledged noticing the younger Vakarian stood unusually quiet, close to the door; no doubt at his older brothers command.

He came forward and taking her offered hand and bowed over it respectfully. Isodell enjoyed the younger Vakarian. Much like the way one enjoyed and found amusement in the ramblings of drunkards.

However, there was another reason the Warden tolerated Leolf Vakarian's outrageousness and that was because she saw great potential. Potential, much in line with his older siblings that one day would be of great use; that in time Lady FitzWarren would be able to harness and use to her advantage. Yet, for the time being she was happy to let him pilfer his days away as he pleased, much to Alistair's detriment.

“So serious.” Isodell commented with a playful pout as she grasped Leolf's darkly handsome face between the fingers of one hand as he looked up from his bent position over her hand. “This will not do. Go.” She ordered with a grin. “Enjoy the follies of Court for one night. But keep in mind Lieutenant,” Her grasp on his features tightened ever so slightly. “that I want you ready to ride early on the morrow and that too sober.”

Waving Leolf Vakarian away Isodell turned her attention back to Alistair Vakarian as she lounged in her seat, sipping wine from a gold encrusted chalice; waiting for the maid to serve Vakarian and depart the room before continuing.

“I must apologies,” Isodell went on completely unsympathetic. “I know you and your men have rode hard for almost a week now but we must depart early tomorrow morn. But it should be comforting for you to know Halen Hall is but a days ride from Langsmerth we shall be there long before nightfall.”

Isodell informed Alistair without bothering to go into the details of why it was so important that they leave on the morrow and that they high onto Halen, where Isodell had not stepped foot in almost eight long years, though it was the place of her birth and the De Hugh family seat.

She hadn't decided as of yet either - after her very interesting conversation with Lord Eddermarch - whether she planned to go straight back to Arv Rondalion from Halen or whether, she intended to elongate her stay at Langsmerth. Yet, Isodell, supposed she had plenty of time to think and decide on that yet.

“Indeed!” Murdock broke in with his typical roguish grin as he strode and rested a causal arm across the back of Isodell's seat. “What a Lark it will be!”

He sniggered, having much too much fun at poor Lord Commander Vakarian's expense, Isodell mused as she peered up at him through slitted eyes, yet could not pull off her damning countenance as a smile cracked across her pretty lips. Appearing to the world, a Lady much too joyous for one who stood on the brink of War.

“Say, have you ever had the chance to visit Halen Hall Alistair?” The redhead Knight questioned.

“Once. My wedding,” Isodell answered for her Commander. “but that was many a long year ago.”

“A wedding you say?” Murdock smirked managing to hold back the chortle stuck in his throat. “Ah, tis true Halen is the perfect setting for being chained up for life.” He winked.

“Enough.” Isodell demanded.

As much as she loved to amuse Murdock and herself, she had many things to do before the day was out. Tomorrow, they would be making their way towards Halen by now, thus she only had what was left of today to get the things she needed done. She needed the Scribe to make copies of those scrolls of all the important family dynasties of Penumbria. She needed to order some things that she needed to take with her to Halen, that must be ready for the morning and most importantly . . . Isodell needed to see Stormkeer . . .

“Tell me Vakarian,” Lady Rondalion questioned, changing the subject as she slid the scroll that held the design for the strange new Ballista's from under Murdock's arm and threw it across to Alistair. “What do you make of these? Are they not intriguing . . . ?

Alistair could not help but fall into an ill mood. He sat between his Lady Warden and her first knight as if he was missing out on some fine jest he was not privy to. He was stoic amidst the suggestive smirks and snickering. His jaw set and his calculating he said gave no credence to the sour feeling in his heart, the feeling of anger and disgust. He did not feel as though he was in the presence of the lord and master of the Lowlands but instead that he was seated with school children. It was enough to ire anyone but the noble Lord Commander was a soldier and he had learned long ego not to question the actions of his superiors. His duty was not to question them but protect and serve them to the fullest of his capabilities. Therefore Alistair Vakarian was silent as they spoke around him, the jokes fell flat but were listened to well. He was loyal but not stupid, he picked up every word, every suggestive glance, every smile and carefully studied it and cataloged it for further inspection.

It was not until Isodell asked his opinion on weapon schematics that Alistair seemed to show some signs of life. The once statue of a man turned form into a quizzical and alert student of war. He leaned forward and slid the blueprints closer to him so he may inspect them closely. He took careful mental notes of the mention of the repeater function of the balista, nay in fact this was the power of the weapon. Traditional balista are and have been a long time tried and true tool of war but the largest draw back of the device was it's incredibly slow reload time. By the time a second shot can be prepped it team of operators could have been struck down by arrow fire. This new design could revolutionize siege warfare.

"Impressive design Lady Warden, this repeater function could repel waves of attackers with ease. It appears to lack the power of it's progenitors but it more than makes up for it in rate of fire. We should install these around the exterior of your keep atop the battlements as well as the battlements of key strategic strongholds throughout the Lowlands to fortify our defenses."

The Warden studied her General causally. She could see his patient irritation as clear as day. Let him stew mused Isodell. For what she was going to bestow upon him, he could stand a little discomfort for now.

“Indeed.” Isodell replied getting up from her seat. “These small details will be worked out along the way, once I have Cordinus back in my grasp. Which I have no doubt you will find for me.”

Strolling across to the sash window of the Solar the pale beauty peered out through the glass. The sun was setting and smoke raised to the skies over Langsmerth. From cooking fires or the fires by the pirate earlier was anyone's guest. Which reminded her . . .

“And yes all my Strongholds over the Lowlands should be installed with these new designs. We mustn't fall behind must we? . . .” Peering over a slim shoulder, a smile lacing her lips. “And Hightower too. You may congratulate me over my new Banship of Hightower Strait.”

---

It was not long after that Isodell had bade Alistair Vakarian and Murdock Devron out of her quarters to be ready and meet on the morrow that the Lady Warden finally picked up her lantern.

Dare she be so forward twice?

Well, the first time had truly been a mistake and misunderstanding but what she contemplated now was pure impertinence. But, she had tried being pertinent and Maul Theongor had the gall to throw it in her face!

By the Maker! Not even a note to apologies for not gracing his gigantic presence before her at breakfast as he had promised! Well, she wouldn't stand for it! He had a nerve standing her up! He would damn well explain himself!

Whipping the wall hanging aside, that hid the secret door way, Isodell soon enough found herself in Lord Stormkeer's chambers once more. The large room was empty. The fireplace was unlit the bed was made.

Wonderful! Thought Isodell with unconcealed irritation. As if it wasn't enough that she had had to wait this morning for him but she must do so now too!

As her eyes swept the room, they stayed on something that should not have been there! Nothing was done right unless she done it herself. She had told Murdock the night before to take all the scrolls but the fool had obviously missed one.

Well, if she was to wait for the Highland savage, she might as well do something useful with her time. Retrieving the Scroll that was propped up against the fire place, Isodell made herself comfortable on the bed, half sitting, half lounging as she unwound the long piece of Vellum.

Interesting . . .

A smile curved it's away up her pretty lips.