For all the irritation he had with the royal family, Ryder had to admit that living in such luxury was certainly appealing.  Every morning at the crack of dawn, the fires in the kitchens were started and spread the smell of burning wood through the castle.  Shortly after, the meat would follow.  The whole west wing of the castle would spell of pork and chicken for the first part of the morning.  Ryder didn't get that smell a lot back home.

Ebonwing was in the poorer part of the kingdom.  It was just too close to the borders of the Wildlands.  Every mile of the border had to be manned at all times by the King's finest.  Dangerous monsters and entire legions of beastmen lurked in and beyond the forest.  The majority of supplies in the region were designated for the soldiers on guard.  Villages such as Ebonwing were ordered by royal decree to donate portions of their crop and income to the border patrols.  Ryder's mother, a simple barmaiden, felt a lighter purse when the policy was made.

Ryder didn't believe that King Richard enacted such an edict as a tyrant.  Just the opposite.  He had to do all he could to keep the border safe from the Wildlands.  Had the King taken a lighter hand in the decision, Ebonwing and the rest of the region may have fallen to the beast tribes a long time ago.  Still, there were dozens of noble families in Valeria.  Each one had enough resources to supply the border for a year with what Ebonwing's taxation could only supply for a week.  That was Ryder's problem with the nobility.  They were so detached from the woes of the commoner.

Ryder abruptly stopped and bowed.  A servant on the otherside of the doorway did the same.  The princess left her room in a gown and continued down the hall without a word.  She was distracted.  It was probably another nightmare.  Ryder had overheard her handmaidens gossiping about the increase of night terrors the longer she remains at the castle.  It was slightly comforting to know that even the rich and powerful had trouble sleeping at night.  It was just too bad that it was probably a silly greed driven dream rather than the pain of guilt.  Honestly, what could a princess be guilty about?  Maybe she swore at a handmaiden.

Ryder chuckled a little to himself.  It earned the ire of the passing servant as he continued down the hall.  Ryder nodded as he passed more and more staff waking to the creeping light.  They were expected to be up before the king and have his day fully prepared before he put his slippers on.  A few of the staff would nod back.  Many of them knew Ryder but, as with the rest of the Ravens, had no idea what he really did around the castle.  Ryder himself was even more of a mystery as he always wore his own armor, as opposed to the Ravens' red and black uniform or a servant disguise.  The whispers about him being a spy or perhaps a friend of the king's were always amusing.  Truth told?  He was just hoping it'd get him kicked off castle duty.

The smell of pork blew away as the fresh, cool air pushed through the tower door.  The sun was finally lighting up Valeria as Ryder walked across the castle wall.  Already, Ryder could spot Sampson stuffing his ovens with fresh dough.  Ms. Janille was filling her stand with lillies and roses.  The end of the night, she would send a bouquet of roses to the castle gates.  'The King's favorite!' she'd claim.  The guards would laugh and promise to deliver them.  Richard has never seen them, nor heard of Ms. Janille.  Then, of course, there was...Roland Flamehart?

Roland was the oldest of Richard's brother, and the black sheep of the family.  When King Reginald passed away, he declared Richard as his successor.  By tradition of Tasec, the throne was to be Roland's.  This scandal, as the nobles saw it, was the first chink in the Flamehart armor.  They saw it as a weak move by Reginald and claimed that Richard was not ready.  Nobles and their traditions.  To Ryder and the rest of the common people, it was another world away.  The intricate backstabbing and politics of the throne ultimately didn't change the fact that the commoners were stepping stone for the nobility.

That all said, Roland was screwed out of a castle and instead inherited an estate outside of Valeria.  That was where the scorned brother spent most of his time.  Now he marched upon the castle with forty men in tow.  Fully armed and ready for battle.  So was Ryder.  He unsheathed his sword and started towards the tower.

"Open the gates!  The Duke of Eston approaches!"  The guards shouted at each other and then were snuffed out by the sound of the cullis gates opening.  Ryder cautiously put his sword in the sheath on his back.  He had been stationed at the castle for nearly six months and never once seen the Duke come for a visit.  It left a bad taste in his mouth, but nobody seemed to share the feeling.  He grunted at a lost chance to fight, kicked some pebbles away, and sulked back downstairs.  At the very least, he could find out why Roland was in town.  Ryder stopped as he passed a window in the winding staircase.

"I demand to see my brother."  Roland was a pudgy man with a brown beard that rivaled a Dwarf's in size and elegance.  The gold bangles around the braids was a nice touch, Ryder thought.

"My lord, King Richard has not yet arisen from his slumber.  Perhaps, if you and your men-"

"Then wake the damn fool!  Valeria is in danger and I'll be damned if my incompetant brother and his beauty rest is the reason it falls."  Danger?  Ryder liked the sound of it, but there had been no warning from the Ravens.  The eyes and ears of the king would surely have heard of an active threat to the castle.  So far, the best they had was the idle threats of Count Montierro.  The Count didn't even have his own army.  Surely, he wouldn't dare at making a strike for the King.  Ryder's curiousity peaked.  He had to know more and knew the perfect spot to do so.  No doubt, with such a serious claim, Richard would assemble the court to entertain his brother's concerns.