Bartholomew

"You said what?" Bartholomew rose from his throne. "Tell me you are not joking."

"No sir," The scout was trembling. "I saw General Crooks' body with my own eyes. He won the battle to take the fort but another army came through and wiped them out during the night."

"Very well, dismissed," He began to pace in front of his throne as he talked with himself. "What or who could possibly defeat Crooks in a fight? Then again Yansen Moomow is dead and if even he can die then so can Crooks."

He sat back down and bade the next person enter the throne room. This war just got more difficult. I'll have to watch my moves. Perhaps Sir Lar might have something of use for me. All those prisoners must be doing something.

Before he had even heard the next petitioner he sent them out and called for another person. The person was clothed in dark material and slid into the shadows after entering.

"Send a group of leerans to Westport," He ordered. "I've turned a blind eye on his operations long enough. I need to know what Sir Lar is really up to."

"It will be done."

Bartholomew was uncertain that the shadow had left the room when the next person entered and his daily business continued.