6th Month, 320 AC

Derek yawned as he stretched himself out in the large wooden chair. Before him lay his desk, neatly straightened, with everything on it aligned in a way that allowed him to function without the fear of a lack of work space. To his left lay a handful of neatly stacked papers, notes about some books in which he’d annotated for his own pleasure. He found it quite interesting just how many books covered the same topics, and it was almost entertaining for him to point these out to himself. He sat very still, deep in thought whilst he occasionally took a sip from the hard ale he’d brought up from one of the lower baileys. Deepwood Motte had become dull the last half year. Usually it was at these times that he’d sit down with Lucas for something to drink and talk or find some means of curing their boredom. Alas however, Lucas had found love and chased it; no man could blame him for that. Derek himself approved of the marriage; in fact he encouraged it, argued it over with Corban and his Mother. And yet he still found himself wishing he hadn’t, if only to talk to his brother at his own convenience again.

Having thought of Lucas, Derek made the realization that he’d not found anyone to act as his personal Guard. I’ll need one, but who could be so loyal? Cadder’s the most loyal man I know who I’d trust with my life, but he’s barely held a sword in his life. His mind felt heavy as his new reality began to set in. I’m running out of those to trust.

A short time later, after some thinking and another mug of ale, Derek had reached his conclusion. If I’ve no one to trust, I’ll have to find someone. Standing from his desk and leaving the small room he’d begun to use as an office, Derek searched shortly for a guard. “Send for Jon Wheat; tell him to meet me in my office.” The guard nodded and left the hall.

A short time later, there was a knock on his door.

“Aye, come in.”

Jon, a tired look on his face, approached Derek’s desk standing as straight as he could given his years of slouching. “You wanted to see me, m’lord?”

“Aye, please sit, how do the times treat you Jon?”

“Good m’lord, though the nights become colder every day.” The man pulled the chair out from the corner of the room, placing it gingerly in front of Derek’s desk and sitting down carefully.

“Indeed, soon it may be time to pull our winter cloaks from storage. If there’s ever a complaint about uniform not being warm enough, you find me, all right? We’ll figure something out for the lads. Ya’ll do good work.”

“That’s very generous of you m’lord.”

“It’s my duty to keep my men warm as much it is their duty to keep me safe.” Derek continued on, watching Jon’s face closely. “I did not take you away from your duty for the purpose of trivial discussion though, I’ve an offer for you.”

Jon sat very still, the hair on his beard turned from black to grey inconsistently. A showing of his age.

“As you know, Lucas was my most trusted man. He’d give his life for me if it was needed, may the gods forbid such a situation rise up.” Derek cleared his throat. “I need a new man to take up the position of Lord’s Guard. I can’t send my cousins out as an envoy without someone I trust to manage their guard and give their life for them. It’s a heavy duty, I know, and I wouldn’t ask just anyone of this. You helped my father rebel against the Blacksmokes, you’ve got experience fighting, you’ve taken a man’s life and saved a man’s life. I want you, should you accept the offer, to be Lieutenant of the Lord’s Guard.”

Jon spoke up, “I’m honored m’lord but-“

Derek held his hand up and Jon stopped speaking. “I understand that it’s a large decision and a lot of work will be necessary on your part. I do however wish to reward such work.” He paused a moment to allow his words to sink in. “You’ve a family correct? Children? Two boys if I remember correctly.”

“Two boys and a girl.”

“My apologies for the mistake. I want your family to move into the baileys, we’ll find them something to do with their lives. Here they’ll be taught to read and write, I’ll find your boys something to do, if they wish to be a blacksmith’s apprentice, then they shall. More importantly though, I’d like one or both to hold positions in the guard if they’d like. Higher up positions if they fit in well. Your daughter could serve as a handmaiden or at the least find a job that isn’t tending the fields or cooking for hours a day.” Derek paused again, waiting for the man before him to think.

“And in the case of my death, m’lord, you’d still keep them in such positions?”

“Ya’ve my word Jon.”

Jon thought again for a moment. “When shall I start?”

Derek smiled joyfully. Reaching over to the shelf behind him where a small, portable keg of ale was kept. He’d had this ale for years since the Magnar had visited Deepwood Motte. So much had changed since then. “We shall toast to celebrate such an occasion.” He poured the alcoholic substance into two wooden mugs, each with just enough liquid to form a single gulp. “To Jon Wheat, Lieutenant of the Lord’s Guard.” The two knocked their mugs together and gulped the ale down.