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Father Benedict, the Watcher of the White Hand, road his ass from the
Academia Blanc, the teaching center built about the Tower of Ganthet, and
through the city Caemlyn towards the motte which rose from
its
center.
Upon reaching the bridge he spoke to the guard. The guard waved him past
and Fr. Benedict's ass clip-clopped across the wooden planks that hovered
above a pit full of the sharpest spikes. Once across he spoke to yet
another guard and was waved through the gate and into the bailey.
The Wiltshire Bailey was the administrative center of this portion of the duchy. There were buildings housing Kingsmen of all kinds. Of chief importance was the Bailiff Alar Philtrum. The bailey court was originally built just for his position, as Steward of the King, this Bailiff was not only the High Constable of the land, but an administrator in high standing. Yet it was this very man who deemed Fr. Benedict to be an administrator of very little import. "The answer is still no, Watcher." "But kind sir," responded the exasperated Benedict. "If I cannot have audience with these two strangers how are we to--" "The White Hand has no business here, this is a matter for me and me alone. I am responsible for keeping order in the Crown Bailiwick, I am responsible for looking after the prisoners here." "But sir, it was said that the strangers appeared out of thin--" "Hellions to you!" roared Alar Philtrum. "The Guard did well to bring them straight to me. You and your meddling kind are no doubt intrigued by this damnation, but I am of a far calmer disposition. We shall get the information we need without you or the company you keep. Don't think me a simpleton, Benedict, I have never trusted the likes of wizards and I pity you for your mission to keep them alive in our land. Again I tell you, your request to see the prisoners is denied. Good day!"
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1/25/2003 6:40:31 PM
Extending Enabled
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