The carriage finally rolled to a complete stop.
The wheels stopped grinding against the smooth, white stone pavent of the royal courtyard.
Damon and Kade sat inside the carriage for a brief second. Damon took a very deep, slow breath. He pushed all of his personal anger, his jealousy over the mysterious "Winston," and his chaotic morning completely to the back of his mind. He locked those feelings away in a box.
The carriage door opened. A royal guard standing outside bowed his head deeply.
Damon stepped out of the carriage. His leather boots hit the clean white stone. Kade followed right behind him, carrying the leather bag filled with army reports and border maps.
They walked up the wide marble stairs leading to the main entrance of the royal palace. The palace was incredibly huge, made of white marble and decorated with tall, proud banners showing the King’s golden lion crest. Dozens of heavily armored royal guards stood at perfect attention near the doors. They saluted sharply as Damon walked past them.
Damon and Kade made their way into the palace. They walked down the long, quiet, brightly lit corridors. The floors were covered in thick red carpets that made their footsteps silent.
Finally, they reached the large, double doors of the royal council chamber. Two guards opened the doors for them.
Damon walked inside. The council chamber was a very large, circular room. In the very center sat a massive round table.
Inside the chamber, all the important lords and noblen expected to be there were already seated. There was the Lord of Trade, the Minister of Agriculture, Minister of Finance and several older military generals who commanded different regions. When Damon entered, the loud murmuring and whispering in the room stopped. The other lords looked at him with deep respect. They had all heard the news that Damon had won his land back from General Howe in a flawless death match.
Damon did not smile. He simply nodded his head once to acknowledge the other lords. He walked over to his designated chair and took his seat.
Kade did not sit. He walked over to the edge of the room and stood straight against the stone wall, standing exactly where the other aides and personal guards stood. Kade kept his hands behind his back, looking straight ahead, ready to provide the ledgers if the General asked for them.
A few minutes later, the double doors opened again.
A loud, clear voice from a royal announcer broke the silence.
"His Majesty, King Leonel!" the announcer shouted, hitting a tall wooden staff against the floor.
Instantly, everyone in the room stood up from their comfortable seats. Damon pushed his chair back and stood tall. As the King entered the room, every single man bowed deeply from the waist, showing their absolute loyalty to the crown.
King Leonel walked into the council chamber. He was a middle-aged man with a golden crown resting on his graying hair.
Usually, the King looked energetic and proud. But today, the King looked incredibly tired. There were deep, dark circles under his eyes. His shoulders were slumped, and his face was pale and grim.
The King was holding sothing in his hands. It was a long, strange object wrapped in a piece of rough, dirty brown canvas.
King Leonel walked to the head of the round table. He gently placed the canvas-wrapped bundle down onto the polished wood.
He looked around the room at his loyal lords.
"Please, sit," the King spoke. His voice was quiet and heavy.
They all sat down. The wooden chairs scraped softly against the stone floor.
Damon sat straight in his chair. He looked at the King’s tired face.
"The King looks very stressed," Damon thought to himself, his eyes analyzing the situation. "I thought this eting was about my army report. I have been working on the border strategies all week. I thought we were going to discuss the land I just took back from Howe."
But the King’s next words shocked him completely.
"There is trouble in the kingdom," King Leonel announced.
Little, nervous whispers sounded in the room. The older lords looked at each other with wide, confused eyes.
Trouble? Was there a rebellion? Was a neighboring country declaring war?
The King raised his hand, asking for silence.
The whispering stopped instantly.
The King reached out his hands. He slowly unrolled the piece of rough canvas that was resting on the table.
Inside the dirty canvas lay sothing absolutely bizarre. None of the highly educated, wealthy n in the room had ever seen anything like it before.
It was a strange contraption. It was about the length of a man’s arm. It was made of polished dark wood and cold iron. It possessed a long hollow tal pipe at the front. Near the wooden grip at the back, there was a very complex, unusual array of tiny tal springs, moving pieces, and small iron levers.
As the canvas was opened, a very strong, unpleasant sll instantly filled the quiet council chamber.
Damon frowned slightly, slling the air. It slled sharply of rotten eggs and burnt, scorched earth. It was the distinct sll of sulfur and dark chemicals.
"Three days ago," the King began, keeping his voice very low and very serious. "A royal patrol was sweeping the northern ridge. They were looking for common bandits."
The King pointed a finger at the strange iron and wood object on the table.
"During the patrol," the King explained, "they found a man hiding deeply in the thick brush. He carried no noble banner. He wore no house colors on his clothes. He was dressed in plain, dirty rags, and he was acting very suspicious."
Everyone in the room exchanged uneasy, worried glances.
Damon stared at the object on the table, and then he looked at the King.
"Must be a spy," Damon thought to himself, his mind working quickly. "Spies always hide without colors. Spies are a common reality of the realm. We catch them all the ti. But why is the King so worried about one single spy?"
Damon knew there was more to the story. The King’s grim deanor, his pale face, and his trembling hands suggested sothing far worse than a simple spy hiding in the bushes.
"When the captain of the patrol ordered the man to yield and surrender," the King continued, resting a tired hand near the long iron tube on the table, "the stranger did not draw a sword. He did not pull out a dagger. He did not surrender."
The King surveyed the room slowly, making sure every single eye was fixed entirely on the strange weapon.
"Instead," the King whispered, his voice shaking slightly with fear. "He raised this... thing."
The lords leaned forward in their chairs, staring at the hollow tal pipe.
"The survivors of the patrol say there was a sudden sound like a lightning strike," the King described the horrific event. "Right there in the quiet clearing. A deafening boom."
The King closed his eyes for a brief second, recalling the terrifying report.
"They said there was a bright flash of hellfire coming out of the front of this iron pipe," the King continued. "And a thick cloud of foul, blinding smoke."
The King opened his eyes. He looked directly at Damon, knowing the General would understand the severity of the damage.
"Captain Darius was leading the patrol," the King stated sadly. "Captain Darius was thrown violently backward off his horse. A small round hole was punched clean through his breastplate."
The entire council chamber gasped in horror.
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