“Why are you so angry?” asked Eglantine.

Morgan spun around, mouth opened to yell, freezing as she raised an eyebrow.

“They — I — ” he mumbled something under his breath.

The young Aralaise woman had a way of shutting down hysterics. She just seemed to disapprove. It reminded Morgan of the way he shut down dissent in the men. He didn’t like being on the receiving end.

“What was that my Lord?” she asked.

Morgan sighed, staring at the young woman, wondering again what she was really doing here.

“I’m not — don’t call me that.” Morgan said.

Months earlier. He had been on his way to scream at the new High Lord of Terridar, maybe turn him into a toad, but as he reached the High Lord’s quarters he spotted the High Lord speaking with a young woman in the hallway. A young woman that was not his wife.

He growled under his breath, “the man isn’t even careful.” He gathered energy as he stalked towards them.

He was a few yards away when she glanced up and announced, “Here he is now.”

The High Lord turned to face Morgan, a wide smile on his face, “Lord Morgan, your aide has explained your position and I now see why you were so adamant. I cannot promise that I can put an end to slavery immediately, but I will no longer work against your efforts.”

Morgan stared, first at the Terridar Lord and then at the young woman.

“With the High Lord willing to join us for these discussions, we should be able to make progress with the others,” she said to Morgan. Turning to the Terridar Lord, she added, “Thank you for allowing me to explain Lord Morgan’s position. I look forward to seeing you next week.”

She turned to Morgan again, “You didn’t have to come get me, I was about to leave to meet with you.”

Morgan opened his mouth to speak then closed it again.

“Shall we?” she asked Morgan, offering her arm to him.

Morgan took her arm, nodded to the High Lord, and escorted her down the hallway.

She whispered to him once they were out of earshot, “Before you do something rash, Lord Morgan, let me tell you that I am ready for whatever tests you wish to put me through.”

“Really?” he said, “Any tests?”

She smiled, “Yes, Lord Morgan. I have come to serve as your aide and you must trust me if I am going to be of use to you.”

“Who sent you?” asked Morgan.

“No one sent me, Lord Morgan. I volunteered. It has been mentioned,” she grinned up at him, “from time to time, that you are not very patient with diplomats. A …” she hesitation, then started again, “I thought you might find my skills useful.”

Morgan’s brow furrowed, “What skills are those? Did you … ?”

She scowled at him, “Just what are you suggesting?” she demanded.

“I … ” he gritted his teeth, “I apologize … If I was wrong, but I won’t –”

She cut him off, “You assumed those were only skills I possessed? Do you see all women that way or just the Aralaise?”

“What? No, that’s … ” he trailed off, flustered for a moment.

“You see, Lord Morgan? I am more than I seem and quite skilled with my tongue. Let me prove it to you.”

Morgan quirked an eyebrow at her.

She blushed suddenly, “With diplomacy!” She turned away to regain composure.

She turned back to look at him, staring directly in his eyes, “Lord Morgan, I understand you better than you think for reasons I do not wish to share with you at this time. I believe in many of the freedoms I have heard you and your companions discuss. I want you to succeed. I want to help you succeed. I can help you succeed and I will find a way to help you, even if I must do so by using my body. The choice to do so is mine. Let me serve you and your cause!”

Morgan stood and stared back at her for a moment. He began to gather energy.

The young woman seemed to steel herself for what might be coming.

“You have some skill with magic?” he asked suddenly.

“Only a small amount of talent with protective spells” she answered.

He channeled energy into a spell that first wrapped around him, then moved to flow over her. No unexpected spells were on her, and only a spell granting some awareness of danger adorned her.

“How did you get in?” he asked.

“I convinced someone to let me in,” she said, suddenly breaking eye contact.

“Who?” he demanded, “Also, how?”

She frowned, “I would rather not …” she faltered, “Fine. I told a young guard that I was the mistress of one of the Lord’s men.”

“That’s all if took to get in here?” asked Morgan, “Perhaps I should worry for the Lord’s safety?”

She sighed, “No, he thought me a … He … demanded a kiss and let me in because he thought me a harmless woman.”

It was Morgan’s turn to sigh, “Who is it? I’ll have him removed. No, I’ll have him watched. He might lead me to someone more dangerous.”

She smiled at him, with a wide open, honest smile that lit up her entire face, “Very good Lord Morgan! That’s what my fa –” she stopped suddenly, composing herself again, “That seems wise.”

“How old are you?” he asked, suspicion on his face, “Are you even half my age? You should not be a pawn in your fa’s plans. I have friends who can safely see you to wherever you wish to go.”

She looked into his eyes again, “I am not a pawn in my ‘fa’s’ plans, or the plans of any other. I do not need rescuing, my lord. I have sought you out for my own reasons. I wish to help you for my own reasons. Someone did help me find my way here, but I asked them. No one in my family has pushed me to seek to be here. Will you let me prove my worth or not?”

He stared at her for a moment, then released his spell.

“I believe you,” he said, “You are good.”

She smiled again, “Lord Morgan! I will be –”

Morgan cut her off, “I am not a Lord, and my allies are all instructed not to use that title. I have real ones if you insist, but ‘Lord’ is not one of them.”

He continued, “I will need to trust you, as you said, but to do that, I will need to know you. First, what is your name and who is your father?”

“Thank you,” she hesitated and then curtseyed, “Sorcerer Morgan.”

He rolled his eyes.

She continued, “My name is Eglantine. I know I already stress the limits of trust, but I wish my father’s name to remain a secret. For now.”

Morgan paused for a few seconds, then nodded, “For now. I need to meet my brother in half an hour. Tell me what you know about the other new Megalan Lords while we walk. I will wrap us in a sound barrier so no one can hear us.”

He concentrated for a few seconds and nodded to her.

Morgan and Eglantine began walking down the hallway as she spoke, “Lord Natiahs is rumored to have been profiting from refugees, both before and since becoming a lord… He is also said to have been imbibing some sort of magical enhancing potions …”

Now “You will have to accept the title. Or ‘Sorceror Morgan’. No one wants to talk to ‘Captain Morgan’ and he doesn’t exist any more anyway. The Lords want to deal with equals, so they give you the title,” she said while looking through a stack of papers.

He sighed again, “I have no interest in politics — I only did what was necessary. I think it sounds ridiculous, but at least Sorceror is accurate.”

She brought the stack of papers towards him, “This,” she said, while waving the papers, “This is what is necessary now.”

“I should have escaped with Traveller,” he joked. It was becoming a common joke.

He flinched as she swatted him with the papers and said, “You’re avoiding the question. Why are you angry? This time.”

She handed him the stack of papers and stared at him until he spoke, “We spend two-thirds of the time preventing the High Lords from killing each other. It’s like dealing with children. Who knew Breakfield was the rational one?”

“You could ask High Lord Breakfield to make a proclamation asking the other Lords to listen to you — again.”

He frowned at her, “Yes, because that worked so well last time… At least he actually wants to improve things. The others are mostly trying to figure out how to gain favor or power, or prevent someone else from gaining.”

“You need to learn to play them against one another, use their own greed against them to get what needs to be done, done. The first two are important, the rest are just supply orders,” she said, gesturing at the papers.

“How did I end up in charge of supplies?” he asked, glancing at the first paper.

“You removed the man previously in charge of it and then threatened that you would have the Lady Ed fly the next one into the clouds and drop him.”

Morgan smiled, “Lord Reisen” he said, “He was almost Lord fallen.” He picked up a pen and signed the first paper, then handed it to Eglantine.

He scanned the next sheet, “And when will you tell me what you’re really here for?”

“I have already told you, High Lord Morgan, you just do not want to accept it.”

He shook his head and signed the second sheet, “Just Morgan. At least in private.”

She curtseyed and pulled the signed sheet from his hand, “You sign the rest of those like a good supply clerk and I’ll get these where they need to go. We have dinner with the Sahudese ambassador this evening.”

“Hurry back then. I want to practice my Sahudese before we go,” he said.

She nodded and quickly walked off, leaving Morgan to his paperwork.

This short piece of fiction is set on the world of Steve Jackson Games’ Banestorm book.