Very Late Evening
Wynfeld’s Office
FOR WYNFELD, still working at eleven that night, it had been a normal day, with its normal working pattern. All the men had reported for duty and nothing significant had occurred. Reports had been compiled and sent to the Palace. As he considered going to bed, his office door crashed open. Glancing up, he rose and saluted as the Major and Lord Landis entered.
The Major snapped, “Remind us what your job is, Wynfeld!”
“Collecting information with a view to the protection of our King and his heirs, sir,” responded Wynfeld crisply.
“Correct. So where, in Sicla’s Cavern, were you and your information when would-be assassins nearly poisoned the King earlier today?”
Aghast, Wynfeld swallowed before answering. “I suppose I must have been here, sir. Unfortunately, I can’t be precise, as I don’t know when they nearly poisoned our King. Is he unharmed, Lord Landis?”
Landis, keeping his temper, thought, ‘Pedantry is no saviour, Wynfeld.’ In an uncompromising voice, he said, “Yes, but no thanks to you or your men. A palace guard foiled this attempt. Your regiment isn’t doing its job. The men were talking about this quite openly in the Teran Arms. You’re naïvety shows as you’ve not found out about it sooner. There is no room for mistakes! If you make another, you will be replaced. I am not allowing anyone in your post to fail, this spectacularly, more than once. You might be in Terasia for all the help you are!”
The Major weighed in, “And I shall not tolerate my subordinate officers making a mockery out of the militia. You are failing, Wynfeld. The King has requested that you remain in post or I’d have you out. He only gives people one second-chance. Sharpen up your act. The King appointed you but circumstances change quickly. You will get the men up to scratch or suffer the consequences. I want to see a marked improvement on the information coming in. What’s more, get out on the bloody street yourself. Don’t rely on your men to do all the work.”
Wynfeld had barely taken a breath before Lord Landis said, “Maybe, Captain, you would like to consider the consequences of Lord Scanlon getting more power than he already holds, just as an incentive. That’s all I have to say. Goodnight, Major.”
Six minutes later, when his senior officer also left, Wynfeld collapsed onto his chair and thought for all he was worth. He started making notes. They didn’t have enough people in the taverns. He went and counted the number of people from the Teran Lordship that were working for them. They might as well have had none. He’d have to have a good look at where they had men and where they didn’t. The sergeants would also have to step up. He could only use the information he was given to compile the reports. He might stop the sergeants writing part of it, or start interrogating them on the report to make sure it contained all the information possible. Then the words ‘palace guard’ seeped into Wynfeld’s brain. They needed to stop relying on Captain Haster and get informers inside the Palace. They had to tidy up the way they collected and collated information. Maybe he should engineer some time at Court. Even in the midst of his angst, he smiled. Queen Ira would have laughed at the thought of him there. Things were certainly going to change. He’d speak to his sergeants in the morning and discover where informants were lacking. He walked over to his quarters and told his batman to wake him at six o’clock. He needed an early start.