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The sound of metal crashing on the floor made Lord Kromwell look up from his writings. With a soft sigh, he waited for what he knew was coming next. It was the sound of feet running down the hall. When the door flew open without so much of a single knock, he knew it was one of two people.
"Hiya Darmot!" Pare said as he rushed into the room. "Hey, do you still have that Dragon sword downstairs? We might need it. Oh and you better come talk to Kaffis, he made Chuck pass out." Lord Kromwell set aside his writing quill and put the cap on his ink well. Kaffis was now the Foreman of the lumber camp that resided on the Lords lands. Darmot knew if Kaffis was there, something had gone wrong at the lumber camp. Rushing out of the office, past his halfling friend Lord Darmot Kromwell went running down the hall. "Wait for me!" the halfling shouted at him.
"Chuk, lunch Chuk!" Lord Kromwell saw his son bent over at the waist, talking to the servant who was passed out on the floor. "Chuk!" he said again as he was now trying to force open the eyelids of the servant.
"Arturo!" Darmot shouted. The two year old stood straight up to look at his father. "Go find your mother. Tell her to come down, do that and I will have Uncle Pare make you something to eat." The two years old, Arturo Michaels Kromwell had a smile on his face as he started to run up the stairs to find his mother. Uncle Pare always made him something sticky and sweet to eat. This was not something he would miss out on. Darmot looked down at his servant, silver dishes were scattered all over the floor along with what he guessed was what should have been his son's lunch. "Kaffis help me get him up, Pare will you get the boy something to eat?" he said. Darmot and his camp Foreman took Charles to his room and laid him on his bed. After the door was closed the lord reached out to Kaffis, putting his hand on his shoulder. "Tell me what happened."
"Well sir, I can't believe it has happened twice now but it did. Yesterday afternoon a dragon landed at the camp. It was screaming at us about its mate. That was so long ago though."
"Kaffis, dragons live for thousands of years, five years isn't that long to a dragon."
"Anyway, it kicked some stuff around, ate two horses then as it took off it set Charles house on fire. There is nothing left of it."
"Did you bring everyone back to town with you? Was anyone hurt?" Darmot asked.
"Yes sir! Just as you ordered, anything goes wrong we all come back to town. Most of them are over at the Star Sword Inn. Old Dave broke his leg but other than that we all got away clean."
"Good, follow me." Darmot started back down the long haul to his office in the back of the house. He went straight to his desk, setting aside the book he was writing in and pulled out a single piece of parchment. While he wrote, he told him "I want you to take this to Captain Turk. Tell him I might need some help. Then I want you to take it to the Temple of Solarth, take it directly to Bishop Hans. Tell him to sneak out after dark. We will wait for him at the north gate out of town. I know he is itching to get out of that temple." Kaffis then watched as Lord Kromwell slid open a drawer of the desk. He pulled out a sack of heavy coin and tossed it to the lumberjack. "Give that to Linda, it will make sure you guys are all paid up until I can get this taken care of. Keep a couple for yourself."
"Understood my lord!" Kaffis said as he opened up the purse a bit. He was nearly blinded by the shine of the platinum coins. "Thank you my lord, good luck!" Kaffis told him as he was rushing out of the office. Once the lumberjack was out of the room Darmot picked up the book from his desk and put it high on the shelf behind the desk. The brown leather almost blended in with the wall behind it. If you were at a lower angle, it was almost impossible to see. While he never admitted it out loud, this was something he did for a reason. If it didn't stand out, small hands might not go looking for it. As he blew out the lamp on his desk, the room fell into a near dark state. While he did not care for this room when he first moved into the house five years before, he had grown to love it. Charles had done a wonderful job of picking out everything in the room. As Darmot closed and locked the door behind him, he was already thinking about what he would write next time he opened the door. Would it go undone because of his death or would he settle down to write about his good fortune? Only time will tell.
Death Or Fortune Page 61
