Roland's long strides took him rapidly to the Yellow Room where King Corwin was taking reports that afternoon. He had just returned from patrol and wanted to deliver his report and be gone. The few remaining Chaosites hiding in the area were rapidly being routed out of Amber lands. Roland personally did not want to give them any time to catch their breath and regroup. The quicker they were dealt with the quicker he could return to Evermoor. For a long time he hoped.
He rounded the corner and the guard barely had enough time to open the door for him when he realized that Roland was going to continue walking whether the door was there or not. Roland halted just inside the room as the guard closed the door behind him. Corwin stood behind the desk looking over some maps of Arden. He looked pale, drawn out, and not at all well. In front of the desk, with his back towards Roland was Julian. He stood in his blindingly white armor pointing at various locations on the map and highlighting his report. Roland felt a growl rumble in his throat.
"...and we have moved our reserves to here and here..." he turned suddenly and glared at Roland before returning to Corwin in his now icy tones, "You have the report, Corwin. If you need any clarifications you may Trump me. I'll be in Arden where there is less of a stench in the air," he ended while looking pointedly at Roland.
Corwin looked up at Julian with a slightly confused look until he saw Roland standing there. Corwin rubbed his temples then looked back at the map.
"Fine. I'll talk to you later."
Julian did not even wait for Corwin to finish but turned on his heel and headed for the door. As he approached Roland neither of them gave ground and their shoulders smacked into each other. Julian spun slightly for, even in his armor, Roland still out massed him. Although Roland did get a nasty bruise for it. Julian glared at Roland until Corwin spoke.
"Roland. Report."
Julian spun around Roland and out the door. Roland presented himself in front of the desk.
"We've shattered their battalions and scattered them. Evermoor is clear as well as the path to Eregnor. There is some reports of them heading toward Ghenesh, but those are unsupported. You look like hell."
Corwin's head whipped up and he eyed Roland evilly before looking back at the maps with a sigh.
"I am beginning to understand why you upset people."
"The truth hurts."
Corwin released a dry chuckle.
"Anything else? Or would you like to comment more on my apparent health or lack thereof?"
Roland studied him for a moment as Corwin sat (sagged, actually) into the chair.
"You need a break. If you keep this up you will be broken."
"I shouldn't have given you an opening," he muttered, then louder, "What do you suggest? This place is falling apart. It's my responsibility to keep it together. I am he king. Not that you remember. You know it is common to say 'your majesty' when speaking to me."
Roland remained impassive.
"I remember... more than most. This would not be a good time for you to die. As you said, this place is a mess, not everyone trusts the queen, and, let's face it, Merlin is not quite ready to take up the thrown. You need to take a rest.
Roland rubbed his throat as if he was not used to talking so much.
"Are you a barbarian or a nursemaid?" Corwin spat, "I don't have time... There is no time."
"When is the next report coming in?" Roland asked suddenly.
"Benedict is going to update me this afternoon," Corwin said as they shared a grin. Everyone else 'reported' to the King while Benedict 'updated' him on what he felt was important.
"In that case," said Roland as he slid the entire oak desk to the side with one hand, "those maps are not going to change until he gets here. Since I am done with my report, you have time for a break."
Roland turned and headed for the door as Corwin looked at the empty space in front of him.
"Are you sure you are not Gerard's son instead of Julian's?"
"If I could have chosen..." Roland started but left it hanging as he jerked open the door and growled at the guard, "The King and I will be in a meeting. If anyone besides Benedict or Dara come through that door I'll break your legs."
As the guard's face paled, Roland slammed the door. Corwin looked at him from his chair.
"I take that back."
"The sofa by the window is much more comfortable than that chair. It is also closer to the wine," said Roland as he flopped himself into a nearby stuffed chair. Corwin got up with an odd twinkle in his eye and poured himself and Roland some wine. As he gave Roland his glass he said, "How is this resting. You made me a waiter."
He sat down on the sofa and stretched out. His eyes slid almost immediately to a half closed position.
Roland was, to many peoples surprise, not stupid. He knows exactly how far to push people, including Corwin, and which battles are worth fighting. He was perfectly willing to knock his king unconscious in order for him to get some rest. Since Corwin was his king, however, he felt he should at least TRY the polite way first. At least it was polite for him.
"That is an unusual weapon you carry, nephew."
"So is your sword," Roland often wondered about Corwin's blade especially after his mother hinted at some things. Corwin chuckled.
"I mean your ax. We don't carry axes around here."
"Deidre did," Roland did not have to be looking at Corwin to know that he stiffened and looked away. Corwin looked into his class and swished it around. After some minutes he spoke, mostly to himself.
"Some of the prices we pay are very high. Too high..."
As Corwin dozed, Roland's mind wandered and he found himself thinking of Deidre. He suddenly felt sad and more than a little cheated. One of the few people he would have liked to get close to and he never got the opportunity. Nor would he ever.
He had met her briefly at the edge of the Abyss. He had met almost all of his family there at one point. Very briefly usually but at least they met. Hellfire was raining down from somewhere, blasting troops every which way. It was quite indiscriminate. It burned Amber's troops as well as those from Chaos. Everyone was broken up into small squads, sometimes into individual troops. Not that it mattered to the Huntsmen. They would continue to kill until they either regrouped or were killed themselves. Tenacious hunters they were.
That did not stop the fighting. A little fire was to be expected in war.
Roland remembered Deidre fighting with a small group of warriors at the edge of the Abyss. They were facing off against some giant, two-headed, demon thing that would eat the people it fought whether or not they were dead. Roland, being Roland, charged. Probably not the wisest of decisions considering the thing had six arms but it took three of those scaly appendages to keep Roland from hacking it into little pieces. That also meant that, for all practical purposes, it was open to an assault from Deidre.
With he black armor glinting in the strange light she dove and tumbled into the beast. She had a great deal of finesse in her ax welding. She parried blows as if she was fencing with a rapier and she thrust the ax forward with the grace, speed, and viciousness of a knife fighter. All of which took a great deal of strength. Ax fighting is neither for the weak nor the uncoordinated. Roland was impressed especially considering that, even though he was wounding the beast greatly, it was Deidre who landed the killing blow.
"Nice fight," he remembered her saying with a wink, "It's nice to see that I'm not the only one with a REAL weapon."
She rounded up the rest of her troops and left. That was the last Roland had seen her. He thought of her occasionally, usually in regret. Something about her rung true with him but it was too late.
The sound of soft snoring roused Roland from his reverie. Corwin had only finished half of his wine and had fallen asleep. Roland was grateful that he was not the king. Like a ghost he rose and went to the door. He could hear soft babbling out side. He silently slide out in time to hear the guard harshly inform the line of dignitaries, officers, and nobles that the King is not seeing any of them. The guard's eyes looked a little wild. He was caught between the orders of his superiors and Roland's threat of violence.
Roland placed his hand on the guard's shoulder and the man almost jumped out of his armor.
"L-Lord Roland," he stammered in a mixture of relief and fear, "I was just trying to explain..."
"Guard the door," Roland ordered as he turned to face the court rabble. He silently stared at the line of functionaries for a long time. Eventually they grew quiet. He continued to stare until they grew uncomfortable. Then he spoke with an even voice that seemed soft but carried the length of the hall.
"The King is not to be disturbed. If you truly believe that what you have to say is worth the risk of disturbing him come and see me and I will decide if you make the cut."
He said the last part while hefting his ax to his shoulder a glaring evilly at them. The crowd dispersed as if it was never there. Roland turned to the guard.
"Do you recall my orders?"
"Yes, Lord Roland," he responded stiffly without looking at him.
"Good."
Roland turned and stalked down the hallway. Once again glad that he was not the king and, for some reason, wishing that Deidre was here.