The sun had risen too early that morning for Colonel Montoya's taste. Already he had begun his least favorite pastime - sorting paperwork. Messages, mail, memos - Montoya hated them all. If they were peasants he would have had them hanged. As it was he would have to settle for murdering the next man he laid eyes on…
The door opened.
"Ah, Captain Grisham," he said, coldly. "I should have known." He took a leisurely time sorting his papers and putting them away. Let the dog learn his place: that no matter how well trained, he was still a dog.
He finished up and looked at his companion of slightly below average intelligence, and sighed. "What do you want?"
"There's some men here," said the young American. "They want to see you… "
"Send them away," said the colonel, firmly.
"Colonel?"
"I said send them away. I am in no mood to deal with the unwashed masses of Santa Helena. Go now, I am tired, and it is not yet nine o'clock."
"Err, you know I hater to bother you when you're on you period but, uh, these guys you're gonna want to see."
The Colonel's head came up slowly. "Greatly though I value your opinion captain, cherishing it above even my own, may I suggest that you explain yourself very quickly, or expect sudden, painful retribution."
Grisham swallowed, but his grin remained unscathed. "Oh, it's nothing, it's nothing. If you don't want to see them, Colonel, it's your loss. See, it's about the Queen." He turned and started through the door.
'That arrogant bastard,' thought Montoya, hatred frothing in his gut 'Still, if it could be useful…'
"Very well, Grisham – but do not expect me to suffer your stupidity again."
The captain gave a cocky nod, and slipped through the door. As Montoya rubbed his temples wondering what to do with the man, he listened to the voices outside the room.
"The Colonel will see you now."
"Thank God."
""Thank you." It was an upright, noble voice. It grated on Montoya's nerves.
" Right this way," said Grisham. The door opened.
Grisham entered followed by two men. One was a friar, short and old, with twinkling eyes, and a big smile, who was missing most of his teeth and much of his hair. The other towered over him, in a variety of ways. His hair was dark and pulled back off his face. Beneath dark, sculpted brows, his eyes were dark blue, almost black. His skin was tanned to a golden shade, though he had clearly once been pale as paper. His jaw was set, and broad, and though his lips were full they were set in a tight line. His clothes were as crisp and clean as his demeanor, and when he spoke his voice was as strong as his face.
"Colonel Montoya?" he inquired.
"I have that honor. What do you wish?" 'This should be interesting – what could an over-decorated cream cake want with Louis Montoya?'
"My name is Alberto Fernandez, and this is brother Pedro. We are here talk to you about the Queen of swords."