Marching Orders

[Tag for Jacke Lancaster ]

Sir Gareth moved with practiced ease along the palace grounds, his boots soundless on the stone pathways. The setting sun bathed the towering spires of the royal residence in a golden light, casting long shadows across the manicured gardens. He inhaled deeply, the scent of fresh earth and blooming roses filling his lungs, a sharp contrast to the clamor of battlefields he had grown so accustomed to over the years.

His hand, always resting on the pommel of his sword, was steady. Though the kingdom had been at peace for awhile, Gareth’s instincts, honed through decades of service, never dulled. He knew that in the most serene moments, danger could strike. The palace grounds might appear tranquil, but hidden tensions always stirred beneath the surface of royal life—alliances to uphold, whispers of treachery in foreign courts, and the ever-watchful eyes of those seeking weakness.

As he approached the royal stables, the soft snort of a horse broke the evening’s quiet. He stopped, his gaze drifting toward the stalls. The stable boys were finishing their chores for the day, one of them nodding respectfully in his direction before continuing to brush down a magnificent black stallion. The royal steeds, much like the palace itself, were symbols of the kingdom’s enduring strength. Gareth took a moment to admire their sleek, powerful forms before continuing his patrol.

The path led him to the grand courtyard, its fountain sparkling in the fading light. Guards stood at attention near the entrance, saluting as he passed. Though he outranked most of them, Gareth acknowledged them with a respectful nod, his expression calm but vigilant. With Queen Lorelle and her brother leaving town for a visit to the neighboring kingdom of Illemore, there was the necessary struggle of figuring out which soldiers would be traveling with them, and which ones would be staying.

Jacke wiped a bit of sweat from his brow, watching as the group of fifteen or so men excused themselves to their chambers for the evening. He was no less impressed with the skill of these newer recruits than he was with the last group. Certainly, they would need at least a few more months to train and hone in their craft, but they showed promise. 

He walked at a brisk pace, the chirp of the evening crickets echoing around the open yard as if signaling the day's conclusion. Lorelle's request still weighed heavily on his mind--it was up to him, along with the rest of the council, to be the ruling fist in her absence. He planned on taking the task seriously. 

He'd come to the courtyard, climbing the small steps before catching a glimpse of Sir Gareth Dufort, a senior royal guard whom Jacke had known since he was a young knight himself. His very presence had always commanded respect from even the proudest of soldiers. "Sir Gareth," he called out, waving a hand to get his attention. When he was close enough, he'd extend one out to shake the man's hand, the easy and genuine smile on his face as it always was. "All is well here, I assume?" He'd ask him, glancing around the courtyard and taking in the tranquility of the evening. 

"I was just on my way to indulge in some spirits in my chambers, care to join me after you've finished your patrol?" He offered, gesturing to the palace. "I could actually use your input on a few preparations for Her Majesty's upcoming excursion." Jacke wasn't so prideful as to neglect the fountain of knowledge Gareth bore due to his years of experience. 

Gareth halted his patrol at the familiar sound of Jacke’s voice, turning with a small smile tugging at his lips. The Advisor of War had a way of cutting through the quiet of the palace grounds, his presence always a welcome contrast to the often heavy solemnity of Gareth’s duties. He clasped Jacke’s outstretched hand with a firm grip, his own demeanor calm but alert, as always.

"Jacke," He greeted in a low rumble, "All is well for the moment. The recruits you’ve been working with are shaping up nicely, I hear." His gaze followed Jacke's, sweeping the courtyard and the far edges of the palace grounds. Tranquil for now, but Gareth never allowed himself to get too comfortable.

He took a moment to study Jacke’s expression—the man was always good-humored, but Gareth had known him long enough to catch the weight of responsibility in his tone. Lorelle’s absence was on all their minds, and Gareth knew Jacke would be taking that burden seriously, as he always did.

At the mention of spirits, Gareth’s brow lifted slightly. He wasn’t one to indulge often, but Jacke’s invitation came with an added layer of importance. The preparations for the Queen’s excursion were of no small matter, and he appreciated that Jacke sought his input.

"I think I’ll take you up on that offer," Gareth said after a brief pause, his tone thoughtful. "It’s been a quiet night, and I could use the conversation."

He began walking alongside Jacke, his posture relaxed though his eyes continued to scan their surroundings out of habit. "What’s on your mind about the Queen’s excursion? Is there something specific you’re concerned about, or just making sure we’ve covered every angle?" Gareth’s voice was steady, though there was a hint of curiosity there. Jacke was always thorough, but if he was seeking Gareth’s input, it meant there was more than just routine planning at play.

Sir Gareth's comradely greeting sparked a feeling of comfort within the man as he brought up the news of the latest recruits. "They are indeed, though don't tell 'em I said that. Every bunch needs a bit of whipping into shape." he replied, recalling the intensity of the men who trained him when he was a boy. It was important to instill respect within young Knights before they got to know the real him beneath the title. 

He was glad when Gareth agreed to joining him, following him into the corridor that held many of the chambers for the councilors. He cleared his throat at the Knight's question, thinking about exactly what he wanted to say. Although he was certain that all the details were figured out, there was a sort of insecurity he felt in standing by as the Queen left the kingdom. Perhaps if she hadn't asked him to stay and mind the place in her absence, he would have been the first to volunteer to join her. There was simply no way to ascertain her safety once she and her caravan disappeared over the horizon. "I suppose I'd like to make sure we have covered every angle, as you said." he said, unlocking the door to his chambers.

The space was of considerable size; to the right of them would sit a great bed with an over-arching frame of dark wood, the finest pelts blanketing the mattress. Candles lit the dark corners of the space, while a recently-lit fire burned on the left side of the room that served as his study. There was a clawfoot desk of the same wood, littered with letters and books of all sorts, aside a thinner rug. Directly across from where the pair would enter was a large candle-shaped window with ornamental glass framing that overlooked his small patio area in the back. 

Jacke walked through the door and directly to the study-area, grabbing a bottle of spirits on one of the shelves above the fireplace. "Please, sit." He invited, gesturing to the chair opposite his by the desk. He'd serve them both a bit of the drink and sit down on the chair, taking a sip and relishing the way it burned his throat on the way down. There was nothing like a nice glass of the devil's brew after a long day of mucking about with soldiers. 

"Anyway, as I was saying, I would like to ensure we've covered our bases. I've assigned seventy men to join her Grace's convoy. Some of which are...," He looked through his notes on the desk before finding the correct one. "Ah, yes. I have Matthis, Johnston, Troy, and Webster, among others." He'd name off a few of the more skilled soldiers they had, setting the paper back down. "Matthis is a skilled tracker, as you know, I figure he may be more vigilant in watching their surroundings for spies or rogues. Is there anyone else you favor that may be of special assistance? Aside from yourself, of course." He asked, raising a brow as he looked at the other man, a humorous smile on his face.

[Gareth Dufort]

sorry for the wait!!!

Gareth gave a nod of respect as he listened to Jacke name the soldiers he’d chosen for the Queen’s convoy, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought. He appreciated the care Jacke had put into this selection; every one of those names was a capable fighter, and Matthis especially would be a valuable asset in unknown territory. But there was one name noticeably absent—a soldier Gareth had personally trained from the ground up, someone he’d come to trust implicitly on the field.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze steady on Jacke. “Those are fine choices, Jacke,” he said with a small, approving nod. “But if you’re open to a recommendation, I’d consider adding Jemos Ravenbrow to the list.”

Gareth’s tone grew more intent, though his respect for Jacke remained evident. “She’s one of the sharpest minds I’ve seen in years and doesn’t waver under pressure. Quiet but deadly when it counts. I’ve trained her myself, and she’s more than ready to handle a mission of this caliber. She’s got a talent for assessing danger where others might miss it—a knack for reading people, especially in tense situations.”

He took a sip of the spirits, savoring the burn as he let his suggestion sink in. “Jemos won’t demand attention, but that’s what makes her so effective. She works best on the outskirts of a team, unnoticed until it’s too late for whoever has crossed her path.” He chuckled, a bit of pride breaking through his usually stoic demeanor.

“Between Matthis keeping watch on the landscape and Jemos watching their backs, I’d say her Grace will be well guarded indeed.” He raised his glass to Jacke. “And I’d wager my sword that she’ll do us proud.”