It was only a short walk from the throne room to a large set of doors that led into a massive hallway.
Brightly polished wood panels lined the walls, broken at regular intervals by ornately carved doors of the same wood. A massive stained glass window allowed multi-coloured light into the hall.
Depicting a muscular man sitting astride an enormous palta, the panes had been crafted so artfully that individual features were clearly visible.
The man had his mouth open in a silent roar and held a massive sword aloft as if about to attack something which had not been included in the scene.
Dumar walked alongside the shuffling necromancer who had stared resolutely at the floor during this walk.
A group of Royal Guards led the way, escorting the royal family followed by Grethron and Dumar who were followed in turn by a further contingent of guards.
At each set of doors the company passed, a pair of guards detached from the rear-guard and remained behind.
The guards who remained dispersed throughout the hall to guard the doors there while a single pair led the queen towards a doorway at the rear of the hall.
Both guards entered, leaving the reduced company outside, presumably while they checked the area beyond.
Once finished with their reconnaissance, the pair of guards silently took their places at either side of the portal and snapped smartly to attention.
The queen entered followed by the princess and the other man who was, as yet, unknown to Dumar. Grethron and Dumar himself remained at the rear.
Through the door was yet another room, the furnishings and tapestries, along with draperies and floral displays, transformed this stone chamber into a warm and inviting place.
Comfortably upholstered couches and chairs in purple were scattered with plush cushions in the same colour. Hints of gold trim complemented the furnishings rather than detracting from them or making them gaudy.
Selected, framed paintings and portraits adorned the walls each having its own space from where it could be viewed.
The queen seated herself in a deep chair, leaning her chin against her hand and gazing off into space.
The princess moved across to a couch and seated herself quietly, after a few moments her gaze lit upon Dumar and remained there as he scanned the room.
The unknown man retreated to the rear of the room and paced backwards and forwards staring at the floor, Grethron slumped into a chair as if defeated by something while Dumar remained standing beside the door in an attempt to remain unobtrusive.
Dumar had been on high alert and in combat situations for half a day now and the energy expenditure combined with the concentration needed to sustain this began to take its toll.
He leaned against the wall and stifled a yawn, attempting to ignore his cramping, growling stomach.
Silence stretched out, broken only by the shuffling of the pacing man at the rear of the room who was also the only one who moved and the sobbing, sniffing queen.
Eventually the queen seemed to rouse herself and turned to look at Grethron, after a few seconds of perusal she spoke.
"What in the name of Dawa brings you here?"
Although the words were quietly spoken, they might as well have been yelled directly in the old man's face, such was their force.
It snapped Grethron from his own reverie and caused him to stare back at the queen.
"There is some news of great importance I needed to speak to you about," the old man explained. "In light of the events today, however, I believe it would be more prudent to convey my news tomorrow."
"Just speak plainly, old man," the queen commanded.
Grethron declined, however.
"It would merely add to your woes, Celouise, it should wait until tomorrow."
Queen Celouise almost leaped to her feet and stormed across to where the old necromancer sprawled.
"My son lies dead in my throne room after once more attempting to usurp the throne!" She shouted. "The palace had been taken over by some unknown force and we were under house arrest!
"You turn up after Dawa knows how many years of absence and begin by telling me your oh so important news can wait until tomorrow!"
The man at the rear of the room halted to stare at the scene unfolding before him.
Queen Celouise's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper as she continued.
"I have just watched my first born son die and you think there is something worse you can tell me? Stupid old man! Either tell me why you darken my home or..." She was cut off abruptly as Grethron rose to his feet.
"Malthrom is coming."
The queen rocked backwards as if Grethron had physically struck her. As the backs of her legs connected with the edge of the chair she had only recently vacated, she collapsed into the enfolding softness of the purple velvet.
Celouise's expression showed a mixture of emotions, predominantly fear. In a sickened voice she stammered.
"How did?...It cannot happen...What?...When is..?"
She paused and glanced into the old man's eyes as if hoping to glean the answers to these unformed queries and in the hope he was making some kind of sick joke.
Dumar watched as the hope faded from her face and the realisation became clear. In a small, almost childish, voice she spoke again.
"I cannot go through it again, Greth, I simply cannot," the broken queen placed her head in her hands as sobs rocked her frame.
The old man approached the crying queen and reached a hand towards her, laying it gently on one shoulder.
Celouise almost recoiled from the contact but moderated the action into a mere rocking backwards to raise her eyes to meet his.
"Are you sure?" She pleaded with eyes wide.
Grethron nodded slowly.
Dumar noticed the man at the rear of the room had ceased pacing and was staring, white faced, at the old necromancer. The big man turned his attention to the younger woman in the room who was staring back at him with her blank expression.
Dumar returned her stare, studying the younger version of the queen. Her blue eyes were fixed, unwaveringly, on Dumar's own which caused a shock of feeling -nervousness, desire - to shoot through him.
Now what was that? He wondered.
Grethron retreated to the seat he had just left and took up the staff he had left behind, laying it against his shoulder and wrapping his arms around it as if seeking comfort.
The old man seemed to think of something and his head snapped up, seeking something.
Turning to find Dumar Grethron spoke.
"Come and have a seat, Dumar," his voice was subdued. "There is no need for formality here."
The big man took a few steps and slumped into a chair after depositing his bag on the floor, idly he noticed the blue eyed woman followed him with her gaze and watched him still.
I wonder what's so interesting about me? Not that I mind her watching.
"How's the hand?" He asked the old man.
Grethron held it out and winced as he flexed the fingers.
"Nothing is broken," He grumbled, "Some bruising perhaps."
The queen had fixed her gaze upon Dumar as if she had only just noticed he was there.
"You were in the throne room," She stated. "You helped Alystra as she was fighting," The queen nodded towards her younger counterpart.
So her name is Alystra then. Dumar thought.
He tried the name silently a few times and for some reason he could not understand, it brought a smile to his face.He nodded to the queen who continued.
"I thank you for your efforts," She stated, "May I know your name and something of you?" She asked, protocol and ingrained politeness making her ask.
"Sure can," the big man replied. "My name's Dumar and Grethron here brought my soul from where I was, stuffed it in some poor guy's dead body and wants me to kill his brother," Dumar noted the change of expression on both the queen and Grethron's faces. "Or so he told me," the big man added.