The Battle of Secrets | Tales of the Knights - Pt. 3

  In the four days since Gideon had returned to the city, he had spent much of that time in deliberation. The debriefing on the day of his arrival has been underlined by an unexplained sense of tension, as if there was a dangerous secret unknown only to him, or worse, that he had unknowingly made some terrible mistake during the unexpected course of action he had been forced to take. His superior asked only one question, about the tome that Gideon had confiscated from the mad noble, and seemed satisfied by Gideon's response that it made no sense to him. Despite his worries, or perhaps because of what he feared, Gideon did not give voice to his own concerns and headed back to the barracks still bearing them. His mood remained grey for most of the subsequent days and he spent much of this time solitarily, poring over archictectural diagrams and territorial maps as much to distract himself as to keep his skills as a castellan from waning.
  On the fifth day after his return, he received a summons. One that made it clear that something, if perhaps not everything, would be revealed to him. The message came bearing the mark of the Lord of Shields himself, the commander of their order, and certainly one of the most powerful individuals in the whole Kingdoms: evidence enough that there was some greater significance to the events that had taken place. Gideon set the chrono-tracker resting on his desk and slipped the letter underneath its base, then unfurled another diagram from his collection and let the timer tick down.
  In the end, he had paused the alarm early and headed to the designated room with twenty minutes still to wait. He had expected to feel a sense of dread when stood by the doors, but in actuality he could not help feeling a thrill of anticipation. Theoretically, his rank was only separated from the commander by two levels of seniority, but each lord held a duty appointed by the Grand Regent himself which demanded their foremost attention before any other. The charge of the Lord of Shields was the defence of the entire Northern Kingdoms, and the Adamant Claws were his eyes, ears and hands to achieve this great purpose where a single person in isolation could never. The most recent time that Gideon had seen his leader with his own eyes had now been years ago, during the parade in celebration of the Kingdoms' unification and the ascension of the Grand Regent. Never before had Gideon received the opportunity to meet face-to-face with this famed warrior, nor was he sure that he ever would again.
  His reminiscence was ended by a chime and the display bar on an access panel next to the door illuminated to inform him that the office's occupant would now be receiving guests. He moved to stand directly in front of the doorway, knocked once-
  "Enter," came the response after a moments' delay.
  -and headed in. The room was not as spectactular as he had imagined. There were no trophies taken from vanquished warlords or heads of slain monsters mounted to the walls. Instead, the space contained a selection of rather ordinary furnishings: a bookshelf, a table surrounded by chairs, a rug woven with the pattern of a shield and, at the far end of the room, a sturdy desk carved from dark wood, behind which sat the one who had summoned him here.