Author's note: This one is also strictly movieverse, this time based on a theory I have about the portrayal of a certain Telmarine general.


To anyone watching, Glozelle was the most dutiful, the most loyal of generals. His was the distinction of the longest term of service under the lord protector. His presence among the council of lords was familiar, if at times uneasy. He was ever at the ready should his services be required at a moment's notice.

None but the maids were surprised by his presence near the bedchamber of the lord protector and his lady, even late in the night. The ladies-in-waiting without the chamber promised that word would be sent to the king the moment the child was born. He insisted on taking that role himself. A guard asked if the good general would suffer to wait in more comfortable quarters for word to be brought to him. He declared he would hear the news from none other than a midwife's mouth.

When at last the cries of the mother were replaced by the wail of her child, an old nurse poked her head into the hallway. A son, she said, healthy and strong. Glozelle dipped his head in a bow of thanks and strode off. Of all who saw him, none doubted that he considered his mission as one of great import. No one heard him practice his announcement in an empty hallway inhabited by shadows.

At a measured and steady pace, the general made his way to the appointed hall Miraz had chosen for his waiting room. Plain and simple words passed from the former to the latter. No ceremony or even particular feeling; a fact only. Miraz murmured in kind to the open air. Glozelle shifted on his feet. Miraz addressed him from over his shoulder in a low voice. Though none were there to watch but the lord protector himself, the soldier took his orders and departed to carry them out. What the former did not see was the route by which the latter journeyed to his destination.

Eight men rose to their feet when he arrived to collect them. Glozelle said not a word, only looked at each man in turn, testing their resolve. His careful selection did not disappoint: they were one and all loyal to the lord protector and trusted to bear witness of what was to come. The general took the crossbow offered to him, and together they proceeded quietly through the hallways, neither so loud as to disturb those who slumbered nor so soft as to arouse such suspicions as would fall on a group of their number.

In the prince's room, they tread more carefully. Nothing stirred. The men formed a semicircle about the curtained bed as they had arranged to do. They were loyal and trustworthy; Glozelle would not have them know which of them had struck the fatal blow. A nod, and the silence was broken by singing of crossbow bolts.

But for the feathers that floated in the air, the bed was empty. But for the clothes hung on a rod, the wardrobe was empty. But for Glozelle and his eight witnesses, not a soul inhabited the chamber. Wherever the prince had fled, his only chance at safety was without the castle –

A commotion in the courtyard spurred Glozelle to mount up and give chase: he was not a man to leave a task uncompleted. His men could see it. His men knew it.

Out into the pitch of night, through the Ford of Beruna, and even into haunted woods, Glozelle chased his quarry. In the capture of an unnatural creature from the distant past, they knew of a certainty the woods were yet inhabited. In the sounding of a horn, they knew they should be overwhelmed by the creature's allies. In the general's insistence on waiting till daylight to pick up the trail, anybody could see that Glozelle was committed to the task at hand.

What none of them saw was the truth of where his loyalty lay.


Prompt: An assassination attempt gone wrong.

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