(A/N:) Well uh... I don't really have anything to say... oh, look at that the "o" button on my computer is messed up... awesome

Anyway, keep reading

I'm sure you're gonna love this next chapter...

By the way, I am extremely sorry for all the grammar and spelling mistakes in the previous chapters... also, this is the first time I've updated this story since... 2003? Yeah, 2003

Enjoy

12. Duke Roger

Roger was becoming increasingly frustrated with the fort his nephew had built. Fort Tortall, is it was being called, was a tall and imposing structure, and unfortunately for Roger, built on a flat plain that spanned for miles. If he tried the most direct route to King Ain and Fort Drell, he would be captured or shot... neither of which were appealing to him.

"Damn you Jonathan!" he cried, carefully keeping his horse close to the side of the river. He had to stay as far away from the fort as he could less the Tortallans saw him and decided to shoot first and ask questions later.

He had to admit though, Jonathan was a strategic-minded person. He had put the makeshift fort in the right place, at the right time, and as there was now a vast number of the Tortallan army there, he was taking no chances on being seen. Tortall was primarily an archer fueled army; he would be all to easy of a target for one.

Slowly, he made his way along the side of the river. Keeping one eye on the terrain ahead and one on the fort to his left, Roger picked his way carefully across the ground.

That is, he went slowly and cautiously until an arrow hit the ground in front of him.

"Go!" he screamed at the horse, desperately kicking its sides to make it go faster. More arrows hit the ground in front of him and behind him. With a sickening feeling, he realized that the archers were just playing with him. Any decent Tortallan archer could hit a mosquito from one hundred paces away.

Steeling himself for the impact of an arrow any second, he made a mad dash for Fort Drell...

Alex woke up to a world of pain. His chest was nicely bandaged and he could feel the slight pressure of a pad on his back. That, he suspected, was where Roger had pierced him to make him fall into unconsciousness.

He looked around and saw no open sky, no trees, and definitely no grass. So he knew now that this was not where he had been beaten by Roger. Above him was a roof, and on all four sides of him were walls. He was most certainly in a house of some kind.

Suddenly, the door he had just now noticed across from him opened, and a young girl, perhaps 14 or less, entered into it. Alex's first thought was to draw his sword; so he reached for it at his side. It wasn't there. His second thought was to pull the covers up; he tried, and to his great dismay, noticed he was too weak to do so and also that he was stark naked.

Soon after, as the girl approached and he could see her face and features clearly, he cursed the girl for being so accursedly beautiful. Laying naked on a bed with a beautiful young girl approaching he tried and failed to stop his physical arousal.

"I have brought you fresh clothes... sir," the girl said, blushing and trying to look away from his manhood. "Can you stand, or should I help you dress?"

Alex tried to stand and indeed, as he knew, he could not stand. Secretly, he wanted the girl to dress him, but for her sake he wanted her to know that he could not preform the request, less she think him a pervert and sick.

She approached shyly, offering her hand to him. He grasped it gently and pulled himself up. Using her as a balance, and graciously accepting her help, he pulled up a loincloth to cover himself. She helped him into a pair of breeches. He thanked her and pulled the tunic on himself.

From the way the girl dressed, he could tell that she wasn't from a noble family; but likewise, was not from a peasant family. She wore a cotton dress but it had silk lacings. He supposed she was from the middle class, a class that sprung from the loins of the lesser nobility.

"Are you tired, good sir?" she asked quietly, and he could barely hear her. "My mother wishes to know your name, and requests you to come to the midday meal—unless you are still tired."

"No, I am not tired. I would enjoy sharing a midday meal with you and your family," Alex replied, trying very hard to keep his eyes on her face and off her rather well-developed chest.

She noticed this as well and blushed deeply, turning and leaving the room. Sighing, Alex followed her. He knew he should not view a 14 year old girl as attractive, as he was 23... he thought so anyway.

She led him down a wide and well crafted stairway and into a large room. The family was well off enough to afford a glass window, fairly large, overlooking the shores of a lake.

A lake, he thought. Then, perhaps this is Goldenlake, from hence Raoul hails? He had to admit, the water of the lake did shimmer in a rather golden way.

Raoul, as far as Alex knew, had know knowledge of he and Alanna's feud—unless she had told him. However, knowing Alanna, he doubted she would have told anyone. She was, after all, stubbornly proud of herself, and would never admit how close he came to killing—defeating especially—her.

But Raoul would certainly know Alex had been dead for years, and would have questions Alex couldn't—or wouldn't—answer.

A woman, becoming plump with age, rose and met him formally with a curtsy. He returned the greeting with a deep—and rather stiff—bow. Raoul hadn't mentioned his family much to Alex or anyone else during their years becoming Knights, so he didn't know what she looked like at all.

"You must be... young Alex of Terrigan?" she asked quizzically. "Raoul has mentioned you and described you many times to me... but never before have we met."

"Then this is Goldenlake?" Alex replied. "I thought it might be when I saw the lake, but then again, Tortall has no shortage of lakes and ponds!"

The woman chuckled along with him at his joke. Then they sat to eat the midday meal, and she informed him that Raoul would be coming later that night to collect a new horse; his had fallen in battle with Tusaine.

Alex knew that he couldn't be here when Raoul came, no matter the cost. If Raoul saw him and reported it back to Alanna absentmindedly during a conversation, she would be on her guard for him.

With those thoughts on his mind, he settled into the midday meal and made small-talk with Raoul's mother.

Roger, panting heavily, had made it to the shadow of Fort Drell. His horse had an arrow imbedded in it's left flank, but as it was not his horse, he had no sympathy for the beast's pain. If it had run faster it wouldn't have been injured in the first place, after all.

He approached Fort Drell with his head held high, ignoring the guardsmen who were demanding his name. He rode through the open gates and continued on through the entire fort, forcing the horse to ride up the steep hill where King Ain's "palace" was. Ain would most surely be there, as always, sitting on his throne growing older and fatter by the minute.

Riding right past the door guards, Roger dismounted gracefully at Ain's feet and went into a deep bow.

"Ah, Ain, me dear friend, I come to bid thee hello," Roger said, grinning widely. Sitting in a chair next to Ain was Ozorne. And he had a very confused look on his face.

"Roger! How nice of you to join us! You see, Ozorne, you stupid cur, Roger is alive and well. The Duke of Cont'e walks again, ha!" Ain exclaimed enthusiastically. Turning to grab something behind him, Ain reappeared with Roger's wizard rod clutched in his hands.

He offered it to Roger, smiling manically.

Roger graciously accepted the token and stood as Hilam, followed by Yami, entered the chamber.

"Ah good, Hilam and Yami, you are right on time," Roger said. "Now we can begin planning the downfall of Tortall in earnest."