The Palace in Wincaster, aside from being the official residence of the monarch, also contained the Royal Bureaucracy. As such, it was home to the marshal's office, as well as that of the High Ranger. It was to the latter that Lady Hayley Chambers, Baroness of Queenston, made her way.
The rangers were far more informal than the army, and so, as she approached the door to her office, the two rangers standing there merely nodded, leaving the High Ranger to open the door for herself.
Inside, was a modest office, replete with a desk. As Hayley sat, rifling through the papers, she knew that her aide would soon arrive. She was not to be disappointed, for moments later, the door opened, revealing the countenance of the Orc ranger, Gorath.
The aide placed a hot drink before her, then proceeded to consult a page held in his hand.
"What have we today, Gorath?" Hayley asked.
"Reports from training are encouraging," he replied, using the common tongue of Humans. "We have more recruits signed on, and they should start training within the week."
"And the graduates?" she asked.
"On their way to their first postings," he replied.
She took a sip of her drink, a nicely warmed rum, then cast a glance at her own notes. "I'd say that still leaves us short."
"It does," Gorath agreed, "but the numbers are steadily increasing. If we continue at the current rate, we should have a full complement by the end of the year."
"Good to hear," she agreed. "I suppose we'll just have to keep relying on the army to make up the shortfall in the meantime. Anything else?"
"Yes," he continued, "I have a request here for warbows."
"You mean longbows," Hayley corrected.
"No," he repeated, "I mean warbows."
She looked up from her seat to see if he was joking, but the seriousness of his face told her otherwise. "What's a warbow?" she asked. "I've never heard of it."
"It is a bow said to be used by my people," he explained. "It's similar to a longbow, but with greater pull and balanced for an Orc's physique."
"How long have they been around?"
"Not long," he said. "They originated with a tribe of Orcs known as the Red Hand."
"Never heard of them," she confessed. "Are they near here?"
"No," the Orc replied, "they live on the continent."
"Then how are we to get these warbows?"
"They need to be manufactured by a master bowmaker," explained Gorath.
"How do we make a bow we've never seen?" she asked.
"Kraloch will communicate with our brethren on the continent. Once he has done this, he will explain how to do it."
"What's so special about these warbows?" she asked.
"They can penetrate the strongest of armours," he explained.
"Even better than an Elven bow?" she asked.
"I don't know," he replied. "I have never seen them compared, but I think it likely."
"You have me intrigued," said Hayley. "Get in contact with Kraloch and ask him to move forward on this. We'll see if we can get a few made for testing. If they're as good as you say, we'll start equipping as many as we can."
The Orc grimaced, an expression that Hayley had learned to recognize as one of happiness, similar to a Human smile.
"Anything else?" she asked.
"Yes," he said, "there's someone here to see you."
"There is?" she said in surprise. "That's rather unusual. Who is it, Gerald?"
"No," Gorath replied, "I would have told you if the marshal were here. It is someone else, someone I don't believe you've met before."
"What's his name?" asked Hayley.
"Lord Walters," the Orc responded.
"Did he say what he wants?"
"No," said Gorath, "though he did indicate it was a matter of great importance."
"Very well, send him in."
"Yes, Blackbow."
"What did I say about making up names for me?" asked Hayley.
"It is our way," said Gorath. "Do you not like it?"
"No," she replied.
"What of Oakenbow?"
"My bow is made of yew," she explained.
"Yewbow sounds strange," the Orc mused.
"Just call me Hayley," she insisted.
"But you need a hunter's name," he protested.
"Hayley means 'one who shoots well'," she lied.
He looked at her in surprise, "It does?"
"Yes," she lied again.
"Very well, Hayley, I shall show him in."
He left the office, returning shortly thereafter to allow entry to a well-dressed man.
"Good day," said Hayley, "I'm Lady Hayley Chambers, Baroness of Queenston. How may I help you."
"You are the High Ranger?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, "I have that honour."
"I wish you to lay charges," he demanded.
"I see," she said, careful with her words. "May I ask what kind of charges?"
"Murder," he stated.
"That's a rather serious accusation," she said. "Are you sure?"
"It is your job to do so, is it not?" the man asked.
"It is," she agreed. "What did you say your name was?"
"I didn't," he retorted, "but it's Walters. Lord Montgomery Walters."
"I'm afraid I don't know the name," she said.
"I wouldn't expect you to," he said. "My family is lesser nobility, but we are distantly related to the Chestertons of Stilldale."
"I see," Hayley replied. She was aware of the lesser nobility but had seldom encountered it. They consisted of relatives of those titled nobles that everyone knew. As relatives, they were allowed the honorific of Lord or Lady, but little else. She stared at him a moment, trying to judge his sincerity.
"Might I enquire as to who was murdered?" she asked at last.
"My nephew," he stated.
"And his name?" she pressed, dipping a quill to write.
"Lord Efram Walters," the man said. "He was the commander of the Wincaster Foot."
"All of them?" asked Hayley.
"No, just one company."
"So he was a captain," she made a notation on her paper. "And when did this alleged murder occur?"
"Back in '53, in the spring," Lord Walters said.
She wrote it down without thinking, and then the date sank in. "'53? And you're only just reporting it now?"
"It was reported at the time," the man said, "but nothing could be done about it. Now the murderer has returned to Wincaster, and I want him charged."
"That's your prerogative," she said, making a further note. "What's this murderer's name?"
The man looked at her and smiled slightly. His delay caused her to look up from her notes.
"Gerald Matheson," he said, meeting her gaze.
"The marshal?"
"The very same," said Walters.
"He's the leader of the army, and the Duke of Wincaster," she said in disbelief.
"I know who he is," he barked back, "but the law is the law. Or is the law only for those who aren't the queen's favourites?"
"The law applies to all," Hayley said, "regardless of their position or influence."
"Then I insist that you lay the charges."
"Are you sure you wouldn't like to reconsider?" she said.
"You cannot persuade me otherwise," he insisted, "and it is the duty of the crown to carry out the prosecution, is it not?"
"It is," she agreed.
"Then do your duty," he demanded.
"One moment," she said, "what proof have you? To say your nephew was killed is one thing, but to accuse an individual is quite another."
The man reached into a satchel, pulling forth some notes.
"These are eyewitness accounts," he said, handing them over.
"Where did you get these?" Hayley asked.
"I have been collecting evidence for some time," he explained.
She glanced over the pages. "I shall give this my attention," she promised.
"I expect more than that!" he roared.
Hayley turned to stare at the lord. "I can't very well charge a man with murder without an investigation. I need to verify these witnesses, not to mention account for the accused’s whereabouts when the incident took place."
"It's not an incident," Walters insisted, "it's a murder."
"And I promised you I will look into it!"
"How long will that take?" demanded Lord Walters.
"I can't say for sure," the ranger answered, "but I would suspect no more than a week."
"Very well," the visitor said, "then I will come back in one week's time for an update."
"And I shall endeavour to have one for you," she replied.
Lord Walters nodded his head, "Good day to you, High Ranger."
"And to you, Lord,” Hayley replied.
He turned and left, closing the door behind him. Moments later, Gorath opened it again.
"What was that all about?" he asked.
"He wants me to investigate a murder," said Hayley.
"Who died?" the Orc asked.
"His nephew, but that wasn't half as surprising as the man he accused of the crime."
"Who does he feel is responsible?" asked Gorath.
"Gerald Matheson," she said, still in disbelief.
"Perhaps he has mistaken him for another?" the Orc offered.
"It doesn't sound like it," said Hayley. "He made it very clear that he was referring to the marshal. He even provided me with some written accounts by witnesses."
"What do we do about it?"
"We investigate," she replied, "and if there's any merit to it, we must charge Gerald with murder."
Anna sat before the fire, warming her toes. The chill of the morning was still on them, even though the day promised to warm up.
"I don't want to work today," she announced.
"You're the queen," said Gerald, "you don't have to work if you don't want to."
"I do, and I don't," she said, a very model of contradiction.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.
"It means I want things to happen, but I can't bear to sit in that office all day."
"Then take your work outside," he suggested. "Who says you can't spend time in the gardens?"
"A good idea," she said, "and we could make a picnic out of it."
"It's sounding less and less like work," he warned.
"I suppose it does," she agreed. "Perhaps I'll just take the morning off. I can always work this evening if I want to."
"All right," he said, "what do you want to do instead?"
"If we were at Uxley, I'd say let's walk the estate, but the Palace grounds are far too small for my liking. What do you say we go into the city?"
"You'd have to be protected, Anna. That means a bodyguard."
"I'm sure it's perfectly safe by now," she argued.
"May I remind you we never caught any co-conspirators," he warned.
"I suppose you're right," she grumbled.
The door opened, revealing Sophie. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but Lady Chambers wants to see you on a matter of some importance. She's brought guards with her!"
"Odd," said Anna. "Send her in, let's see what she wants."
Sophie disappeared from sight, closing the door behind her.
"What's that all about?" asked Gerald.
"I don't know," Anna confessed, "but I think we're about to find out."
The door finally opened, revealing Hayley and two rangers, a man and a woman. The baroness walked over to the queen, bowing formally.
"Your Majesty," she said, "you once told me that we must uphold the law, regardless of the cost. Do you still believe that?"
"Of course," said Anna, "why?"
"I must inform Your Majesty that a charge of murder has been laid against Lord Gerald Matheson."
"Is this some kind of joke?" asked Gerald.
"No," said Hayley, "unfortunately, it is not."
"And who has made this accusation?" asked Anna.
"Lord Montgomery Walters," said Hayley.
"Walters!" said Gerald, recognizing the name.
"You know him?" asked Anna.
"I did," he confirmed. "I served under him when the riot broke out at Walpole street."
"That was his nephew," corrected Hayley, "and he claims to have proof of your guilt."
"What kind of proof?" asked Anna.
"Sworn statements from eyewitnesses," said Hayley.
"And you've investigated these claims?"
"I have," the ranger responded, "in person. If this were any other case, I'd have no doubt about an arrest."
"Then you must do your duty," said Anna, her voice breaking slightly.
Hayley moved to stand in front of Gerald, the two rangers taking up flanking positions.
"Lord Gerald Matheson, Duke of Wincaster," announced Hayley officially, "you are hereby arrested on the charge of murder. You must surrender your weapon and face incarceration until such time as you are proven guilty or innocent in a court convened for such an occasion."
Gerald unbuckled his sword, passing it to one of the rangers.
Hayley turned to the queen. "Will house arrest be sufficient?" she asked.
Anna, grateful for the offer, simply nodded, too upset to speak.
"I will leave a ranger posted to keep watch over you, Gerald," said Hayley, "but you must surrender your position as marshal until you are judged. Do you understand the charge laid against you?"
"I do," said Gerald, his voice sounding defeated.
"I'm sorry, Gerald," said Hayley, "but I must do my duty."
"I understand," he said.
Hayley returned her attention to the queen. "You will have to recall Baron Fitzwilliam to Wincaster, Your Majesty, to take command of the army."
"I will," said Anna.
"And it must be made clear," insisted the ranger, "that Gerald is no longer in command, otherwise the troops might try something foolish. You know how much they like their marshal."
"I know," said Anna, "and I promise it will be done."
"Thank you, Majesty," said Hayley. She bowed once more, backing away, then turned and left with her two rangers, ordering one to remain outside the door. Hayley knew it was all so unnecessary, but she must be seen to be doing her job. Gerald would stay put, of that she was certain!
Gerald avoided Anna's gaze, too ashamed of his actions.
"What happened that day, Gerald?" she asked at last.
"It was chaotic," her oldest friend explained. "The troops went wild and started slaughtering innocents. Lord Walters lost his head and died."
"And his family blames you?" she asked.
"Yes," he confirmed, "they want to clear their nephew's name, but he was the one that let them loose.”
"What have you to do with any of that?" she asked.
"I was his sergeant in the Wincaster Foot."
"Go on," she urged, "I'm trying to understand things."
"We were the fifth company," he continued, "deployed to block Walpole Street. Our job was to stop the rioters from reaching the richer area of the city."
"And these people were rioting because of starvation, weren't they?" she asked.
"That's right," he confirmed. "The harvest had been poor the year before, and there was nothing in the granaries. The people were starving, and to make matters worse, it was one of the hottest summers ever. Anyway, we formed a thin line across the street, ready to halt the mob."
"And did it? Halt the mob, I mean?"
"It did," he said, "and I can remember them getting ready to flee when they realized the futility of it, but then Lord Walters panicked.”
"What did he do?" she asked.
"He ordered us to attack them, even though they were backing off."
"What did you do?" she asked.
"There was little I COULD do," he defended. "I had to take the place of a man named Henderson, standing in the line at the last moment."
"Why, what happened to this Henderson fellow?" asked Anna.
"He was hit in the head by a bottle," said Gerald, "and as he'd recently lost his helmet, he went down like a dropped sword."
"What happened then?" she prodded.
"I was using numbleaf back then," he explained, "and someone had cut my leg, likely just a broken bottle, but I didn't feel it. When Walters gave the command to advance, my leg collapsed on me, and I fell to the ground, bleeding out."
"I remember the numbleaf," she said. "You were using it when you first came to Uxley."
"I was," he confirmed. "I don't know how long I was out, but I woke some time later to find that the men had already scattered, and I had to scramble to find them."
"And so you were blamed for this," said Anna. "I think I understand now. They simply want a scapegoat."
"They did," confessed Gerald, "though I thought it was over years ago."
"That's why they sent you to Uxley," said Anna, "to get you away from the capital."
"Yes," he admitted, "that was the baron's idea. He was trying to protect me."
"And then you met me," she said, smiling.
"I did," he said, "and you changed my life."
"As you changed mine," she said, "and I'll do whatever I can to protect you, Gerald. You have my word."
"What do I do in the meantime?" he asked. "If I'm not to be allowed my duties as the marshal, I'm useless to you."
"Of course you're not useless," said Anna, "and quite frankly, you're still in charge of the army."
"But Hayley said-"
"It doesn't matter what Hayley said," Anna continued, "she's just doing her duty. I'll make it clear to Baron Fitzwilliam that you are still in command, but he will carry out any public appearances on your behalf. It'll be a secret amongst the three of us."
"And the soldiers that serve under me?"
"You know who you can trust," she said, "but we'll make a show of you not doing anything, just to coddle the Walters family."
"And if I go to trial and lose?" he said.
"You won't," she replied.
"You don't know that," he argued. "You wanted the rule of law, Anna. You can't make exceptions, you know that. It's the basis for your entire reign."
"I know," she replied, "and that is what makes this so much more difficult. We'll investigate this thoroughly. There has to be a way to win against these charges."
"I'm sorry I put you in this situation," said Gerald.
"I know," she replied. "Tell me the truth, Gerald, did you kill Lord Walters?"
He stared back at her for a moment, considering his words carefully before answering, "I never killed a man that didn't deserve it."
She nodded in understanding and pressed him no further.
Gerald tried to be positive, but he could feel the weight of the world descending on him. He had done things in his past that he wasn't proud of, and he had always thought they might catch up to him. Was this to be his punishment? Was Saxnor upset at his choices? He remembered back to the death of his wife and child. If only he hadn't gone out looking for the escaped pig, he told himself, they'd be alive today. Was this his punishment before being sent to the Underworld to spend an eternity in torment?