"We can't just throw him into the Chamber of Ordeal and hope that he comes out alive," the first man almost screamed. He paced the room, his coal black hair becoming more and more out of place as he ran his hands through it in frustration.
"Why not? He's served long enough with me that a knights training would be a waste of time. Besides, we can't very well make him wait around eight years, he needs this now!" The second man threw put his hand up into the air for emphasis as he paced in parallel to the King.
"It's the principle of the thing, Raoul, if we do it once. . . You know what would happen. The pages and squires that have to go through years of hard work"
"He's served his eight years with me! I'll vouch for him, as will any man in the Own."
"Why does he need it so badly?" This voice was softer, gentler and came from the room's corner.
"Dearest. . ." The king trailed off, at a loss for an actual answer. Another man swept through the doors of the room, the sleeves of his tunic fast becoming covered in ink as he used them to blot a dripping quill.
"Because," sighed Duke Gareth of Naxen, "it is a disgrace to a noble mans family for the heir not to be a knight. If it wasn't so, then we would have a horde of eldest sons lounging around the palace, waiting for their parents to die so they can inherit, it would be a shambles."
"Surely it is different in this case. He has a place; I think Raoul has made that clear enough. The eldest son was the knight, we can not change that, just as we can not change the fact that he is now gone" said Thayet, her voice firm.
"But we can not leave him where he is either!" the King was becoming more and more exasperated, "the fiefs heir a lowly sergeant in the Own? It would be a disgrace."
"Promote him," Gary's voice was thoughtful, pondering the new idea.
A slightly evil grin started to stretch across Raoul's face. "You know," he said, "Gary might just have an idea there, and I might have just the position"
"Where could he be promoted too, Raoul?" asked the Queen, her face gentle, but with a small smile starting to curve upon her lips.
"Flyndan has been pestering me. Well, really I think his wife-to-be has been pestering him. I know you are working on that law change Jon, but not fast enough for Flyndan's fiancé, obviously. He wants to retire. Which means I need a new second."
"Do you think he's up for it?" Jon stopped pacing the room and looked at Raoul.
"From what I've heard of the lad, he's more then up to it," Gareth interjected.
"I must admit, I was hoping to have more time to train him. For all his service, he joined young and he's really not much more then a boy. However he has proved his worth more then once, he will be able to step up to the post," said Raoul.
"What about the other men? There are ones that are older, probably more worthy of the post then him," inquired Jon, his frustration now vanquished.
"Even though he is young, he is respected. They will back the decision, I'm almost sure of it."
"Then it is settled," said the Queen, "he will become your second in command, Raoul. Now, when shall we inform him? I believe he has been sent home, along with Sir Nealan of Queenscove, he needs time to mourn."
"I'll talk to him after the funeral. Now if I may take my leave? There are ends to be tied up, and I need to talk to Flyndan." Raoul began to head towards the double doors of the throne room.
"Your majesty's, I believe it is also time for me to go, I need to draw up the official papers. They will need your signatures, and yours too Raoul." Gary's voice brought Raoul back into the room from the doorway.
"Of course, bring them to me tonight Gary," Jon's face showed his relief at the matter being settled plainly. Raoul once again began to stride away from the monarchs.
"Ahem, Raoul," muttered Jon. Raoul swiftly turned and made a stiff, to-high bow in the direction of the majesties before taking his leave.
"Impertinence!" yelled the King in Raoul's wake, not managing to keep a hint of a laugh out of his voice. Gary laughed, bowed to just the right height above the ground and proceeded to follow Raoul out the doors, his mind already caught up in the exact wording needed in the papers of the job ahead.
Thayet stood up, and walked to her husband to rest her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips to the top of her head.
"You think this is the right thing to do?" he whispered into her hair.
"I do," she replied softly, "the boy needs something now, to keep his mind off everything, and besides," she said, looking up into her husbands face with a smile, "how could he go wrong, when his life is being plotted out by the King, the Queen, the Prime Minister, and the commander of the Kings Own?"
Jon laughed and allowed a smile grin to lighten his features. "I do hope your right my darling, I do hope your right."