Dorman Cole rode slowly on an old horse that he had owned for the last several years. He loved the aging mare and would never trade her for a younger stronger mount, though her usefulness in battle was questionable at this point. The road to Feld was a busy one, several small villages lay on the outskirts of the great city, second only to the capital Clifftown. House Oren had been in the city of Feld for generations, the second-best house located in the second-best city. Dorman was called by the Patriarch, Rado Oren to discuss matters of a yet undisclosed nature. He was getting paid well just to attend this meeting, so it was worth at least hearing what the man had to say.

Dorman was newly arrived at Inram and was not completely up on the local gossip; but the gist was, that the ruling family were weak. The undermining of their reputation by House Oren and some of the country’s other greater houses made them seem vulnerable to overthrow. No King would allow another House to build an army within their borders; but the hiring of mercenaries was a harder thing to control.

Like most sellswords, Dorman had at one time been in the service of a King, and as go the royals, so too go their retainers and Generals. For half a dozen years, he had been on his own, travelling across this great land, in search of a new master. He had lost the title of Knight, and Lord, and he felt that there was no honor in what he did; but he needed to support himself, and leading men into battle was the only thing that he was truly great at. Kings on the other hand, looked at these wandering soldiers as damaged goods. Fine to thrust into battle, never to become family.

The hallway was long, the stone floor had a brilliant red carpet that stretched from the giant twenty-foot doors, more than a hundred feet to the lord’s throne. The ceiling was twenty-five to thirty feet high. One wall had windows that let in light through the expensive stained glass, the other wall had tapestries and painting of lords long dead. Dorman Cole walked casually towards the raised seat at the end of the room. He was accustomed to being in the presence of Kings, this Lord with aspirations to be King was not his ideal next employer. He approached the dais, and when he was an appropriate distance, he took a knee and bowed his head. He waited for the Lord’s signal to rise and approach, which came without delay.

Stepping forward within a conversational distance, he looked at his potential new employer. Rado Oren was not a particularly impressive man. He was overweight, as was the custom of many of the monied Lords who had never killed their dinner, much less defended their walls. They relied on men like Dorman Cole, men with swords and the desire to see their enemy’s head on a pike. As was the custom, Dorman waited for the Lord to address him. Rado waved in way that let Dorman know that it was acceptable for him to stand. He judged the man in his head; but his expression was completely unreadable. He waited for his interview to begin.

“I have heard of you, Sir Cole”, the Lord said. “I have heard only good things about you.”

“Thank you, my lord”, Dorman replied. “I hope that my experience can assist you in achieving whatever goals you may have. I would be honored to lead your men into battle, should it ever come to that.”

The Lord was pleased by a man who would normally be his superior, bowing to him and asking for his favor. “Yes, I can see that with such as man as yourself at the head of my forces, that I could take what is rightfully mine.”, he leaned forward, getting into the story. “My family are truly the descendants of the Gods, yet House Laima continues to rule this land. They are weak and allow the peasants to run their own lives, when of course, they need the guidance of the aristocracy.”

“I see your position very clearly, my Lord, and I agree whole heartedly.”, Dorman said in the most believable tone he could muster. “I only hope that I can help you to right this wrong, and to put your Lordship on the throne where he rightfully should be.”

The soft, effeminate Lord leaned forward, causing the knight to step forward a step or two so that they could speak in confidence.

“I have hundreds upon hundreds of men willing to fight for my banner.”, he stopped for emphasis. “They of course want to be in service of the King of this land. Fortune and happenstance have prevented me from realizing my family’s destiny.” He was very emotional when he got to this part.

“I was a knight several years ago. My King was a foolish man who thought that he could general a battle from his comfortable throne room. If I were to take on such a responsibility again, I would need complete and total control while on the field.”, he looked the Lord directly in the eye, so that there would be no misunderstanding of what role he was willing to accept.

“Naturally.”, you could almost see his mind racing for the correct response. “I am meant to be a King. Kings do not cross swords or… get dirty. I need a good man, a man like yourself who can right the wrongs that have been inflicted on the people of Inram.”, he was starting to feel more at home in his own throne room, “I, of course am preoccupied with the larger matters of state, trade, civil defense, etc.”

Doorman Cole saw this as, possibly, his last opportunity to find a place to call home. He wasn’t about to let this pompous Lord off the hook without some type of commitment. “Sire, of course you wouldn’t lower yourself to meet your detractors on the field of battle. That’s a job for your Minister of Defense.”, he let it hang in the air.

“Minister of Defense?”, the Lord asked to no one in particular.

“Yes, my Lord. A position that is far below your lordship’s; but is vital to attaining the House’s status and of course, maintaining it.”

They shared a knowing look. The whole of the negotiations was almost instantaneous. Dorman was looking for more than a mercenary mission. He wanted a permanent position in the kingdom that he would help to create. The Lord on the other hand, was looking for someone to bleed for him, for a price. Knowing that he would not be able to find better, Lord Oren agreed to the unspoken demand.

“If you’re able to displace the weak and shameful leadership of Inram, I would gladly welcome you as the Captain of the Guard”, he looked at Dorman who was still scowling. “and as Minister of Defense, you would be a full member of the ruling council.” Dorman Cole’s face finally broke its stoic façade and he allowed himself to smile.

Dorman rode his horse, sitting as tall in the saddle as he could muster. Whenever he met a new batch of troops, he always did his best to be aloof, imposing and omniscient. They needed to know that his word was beyond question, that he was better than the best of them in every way, and that he would do his best to use their sacrifice for the glory of their Lord.

None of them were men at arms, they were all conscripts, forced into service by their Lord. He looked at the pitiful batch of men that were to be his key to ousting the seated King and installing the insufferable Lord Rado Oren as King of Inram. For the first time in a very long time, he started to question his decision-making ability. The man to whom he had pledged his fealty was an insufferable worm of a man, the kind that he would have beaten to a pulp in finishing school. The men before him were at best, human shields. Though he thought that statistically, there should be a gem or two amongst the group, it was becoming evident that they were all equally useless. He valued his honor above all things, including his life. His promise to his new lord was the only thing that prevented him from leaving with all possible haste. He looked at the men, studied the sturdy, though insufficient walls that guarded his master’s keep, and thought to himself, this is where my story ends. He had lived through many years and many battles, most of which he had won. Those that were lost were lost with honor. Now he felt the hand of death on his shoulder.