The dirty, sweaty rider sank gratefully into an armchair and nodded. “Thank you, my Lord, for your hospitality. But if I may be so bold as to ask, sir, why did your servant bring me here first?”
Gray handed him a cup, and the rider drank thirstily. “My daughter. She has a – ah, a friend, you see, in the army. We are all eager for news of him. Tell me what you have heard, and I will deliver the news to her and the Prince, as well. You should rest.”
The messenger asked no further questions; he knew better than to question a noble. Who cared who he told, as long as the information made it to the Prince? “Of course. I bring good news, my Lord. The reserves sent from here were exactly what we needed. We have won Falador.”
“How long ago?”
“Six days, my Lord. I apologize for the delay – we wanted lists of the dead and wounded, that their families might be notified.”
This was exactly what Gray had hoped for. Smiling again, he leaned forward and said, “Give me those lists, my friend. I’ll deliver them along with the news.”
“Of course, my Lord.” The rider fumbled in a pouch at his waist, and withdrew a stack of folded papers. These Gray snatched up eagerly.
“Well done. You should go to the barracks, and rest. Your work is done.”
“Yes, my Lord.” The messenger bowed and left the room. Gray turned to his desk and quickly unfolded the papers. The first read, “Deaths – 1032 of Misthalin army counted so far, 893 of the Asgarnian army so far. Unknown number of civilian deaths at this point.” Below this was a list of names, of those bodies that had been identified. Gray quickly scanned down the list, but did not see the name he sought. Frowning, he opened the other, and read, “Wounded – 4762 of Misthalin, 1459 of Asgarnia. Civilians unknown.” As he scanned down this list, his eyes alighed on, “Lucas Val’Eyra – deep wound to the leg, fever, infection.”
20-Sep-2009 20:58:40