Vilt gasped and Dumar turned to see his normally pale face had gone even whiter as he held one hand to his mouth in fear and disgust.
Fultard glanced at the boy before looking back at Grethron and continuing.
"We had no clue as to what had happened, no clue as to who had murdered my lads but a good idea of who it must have been down to," Fultard drained his cup and tapped it on his table top thoughtfully.
"Two days ago Saruline came out of his rooms surrounded by his new bodyguards. I have no idea how he sneaked them all in there," the commander took a deep breath before continuing.
"It was early morning when he emerged and had Queen Celouise, Prince Warval and Princess Alystra confined in their rooms.
"The little shit has managed to gain control of almost the entire eastern wing, holds the rest of the royal family hostage and is quite happy to see anyone sent against him killed.
"We are at a stand-off at the moment as I cannot risk the queen's life. I ordered the servants and staff away from the main buildings, ordered the gates sealed and was working through some rudimentary ideas when you turned up."
A concise report, Dumar realised, from a decidedly military man.
Grethron sighed deeply, rose and moved over to stare out of the large window behind Fultard. As he scanned the area outside, he watched the few Royal Guards who were there, their professionalism such that they continued about their duties and training even in this extreme situation.
"I did not believe he would actually try and usurp the throne," Grethron rumbled. "How can he possibly think the people will support him?" Fultard shook his head.
"I have no idea, Greth," he answered. "But he seems to have access to an army. Bastard!" The Commander swore.
"Sorry to interrupt," Dumar said, "But what's going on?"
Grethron glanced behind him and frowned.
"Prince Saruline, first born son of Queen Celouise and heir to the throne, has been under the impression he should have been crowned after his father died during the last war.
"He has been plotting and scheming all through the years of his mother's reign," the old man turned and fixed Dumar with a dark look. "Previously, however, he has confined himself to verbalising his position, it would appear his tactics have taken a more hands on approach." Returning his attention to Fultard, Grethron asked.
"Have you spoken to Fashzhamina?" Fultard made a disgusted face and indelicate sound.
"If I wanted martial law declared in the city I would send a message to him," his voice had a sarcastic tone. "I thought it may be better avoided."
"However," Grethron retorted just as sarcastically. "His command of the army might well facilitate the liberation of the queen."
Fultard shook his head.
"Sorry, Grethron, palace security is my domain and I will not have that overzealous, power hungry maniac stamping his authority all over the place."
A pair of men entered Fultard's office and stood to attention. Both were dressed in the silver trimmed, dark blue all the Royal Guards wore.
Each also sported a breastplate, helmet and greaves, polished to a high sheen, with black leather boots and forearm guards completing the uniform. Each also carried a three-foot-long, leaf bladed sword and sported a small round shield, both items immaculately maintained.
"Pillsor, Derane, report!" Fultard ordered sharply.
"Sir!" One of the men spoke. "We have been sent to report Prince Warval and Princess Alystra have been moved into the royal apartments, along with the queen and remain under guard."
"Numbers?" Fultard asked.
"There appear to be in the region of forty individuals in the occupied sections of the palace, however it is difficult for anyone to gain an accurate count due to their all covering dress, sir."
Grethron had a look of shock on his face.
"How in the name of Dawa did he get forty killers into the palace?" He demanded.
Fultard looked away in embarrassment.
"As I said before, I have no idea how he got them in. I had patrols all over the place, Greth, in the corridor outside his apartments, in the grounds outside his apartments anywhere I could think of to keep an eye on the little..." The Commander halted as he saw Pillsor and Derane were still in the room. "Dismissed, lads. Go off duty for a while but stay close in case we need you."
The pair saluted and marched out, stirring the dust once more. Grethron was deep in thought, rubbing his chin and tapping his ring against the weird staff he carried,
"It is possible he could have sneaked his men in one by one," the old man admitted. "Come to think of it, they may have come in by way of the sewers. What did he mean about their 'All covering dress?'" Grethron wondered.
"Every last one of them is covered head to foot in black, even their faces are covered," this seemed to pique the old Necromancer's interest.
"Alvasherii?" Fultard shook his head.
"I already contacted them when I saw the uniforms they wore, the Archassassin guaranteed they were not his people. He even went as far as to inform me he had been contacted by Saruline before but turned his offer down due to the political ramifications."
"How accommodating of the assassins," Grethron snorted.
"At least they have shown their willingness to stay clear of the palace," Fultard pointed out.
Grethron gave him a withering look.
"Only to ensure their own safety," he replied. "They might be good at creeping about and cutting people's throats while they slumber, yet in an all-out fight they would be decimated to a man and the Archassassin knows it," the Necromancer's tone left no doubt as to what he thought of this group.
"For all his glorious speeches, the Alvasherii assassins are nothing more than a group of hired thugs, out to make money just like everyone else."
An almost peaceful quiet fell over the small office after Grethron's outburst until Fultard spoke again.
"So, have you anything in mind?" He asked hopefully.
Grethron rolled his right shoulder as if relieving an ache.
"I need to assess things for myself first," he stated.
***
Hastily constructed barricades manned by the blue and silver clad Royal Guards blocked several of the passages leading to the area where Dumar assumed these royal people were.
The beautifully tiled and decorated walls and floor showed the scars of skirmishes between the two forces. Blood stained the floor and several of the tapestries had been torn down to lay crumpled on the shattered remains of beheaded statues.
The barriers themselves had initially been hastily constructed from whatever furniture had been close at the time, subsequent additions had included larger and more solidly built items created for the job.
From snatches of overheard conversation, Dumar got the impression the guards were puzzled by the way their opponents were behaving. The guards had apparently been attacked intensely on several occasions, the opponents then pulled back, seeming content to hold the sections of the building they already had.
Just before Fultard, Grethron, Dumar and Vilt arrived at the front lines they were accosted by another pair of Royal Guards, the first of who reported something to Fultard almost silently before pointing at a door which had two more men stationed one on either side. Fultard motioned for the companions to follow.
The room had been stripped clean of all furniture, probably to build the barriers. White stone walls showed where tapestries and paintings had once hung; the long, hanging curtains were in an unkempt heap on the floor allowing the afternoon light to blaze through the window.
A powerfully sweet stench of decomposing meat overlay the scent of dusty disuse the room already smelled of. Dumar could detect the stench of sweat and fear coming from the two men already in the room, even over the rot.
Fultard closed the door and acknowledged the further two Royal Guards inside the doorway, who saluted in return, before turning to the only other thing in the room.
"Apparently, the lads caught this one scurrying around on his own and managed to subdue him before holding him in here," the Commander explained while indicating a seated figure tied to a chair in the centre of the room.
"Happened just before we got up here," Fultard approached the seemingly unconscious figure cautiously.
Covered, as the Royal Guard, Pillsor, had said, from head to foot in black material resembling silk, the man was indeed tied securely to a chair. His head was slumped forward as if asleep yet Dumar was unable to discern any chest movement and could not hear him breathing.
Furthermore, the stench of death and decay intensified as they approached the man. Grethron and Fultard could smell it also, Vilt remained halfway between the door and the chair, one hand clasped to his mouth.
Commander Fultard reached out and removed the black hood after glancing silently at Grethron and Dumar before recoiling in surprise as the horror beneath was revealed.