It had taken the spy three hours ahorse to reach the Sentinel Tower. The spy left his black stallion to the stables in the dead of night, and drew his dark blue cloak closer as he hurried thorough the narrow tunnel that lead to the upper landing. He encountered no one along the way, as he knew he wouldn't, but he kept his dagger close to him. Just in case.
The cobwebbed darkness of the tunnel slowly cleared as a ray of light fell on him. It came from the small window a few feet away. He would have to climb through it - it would take him directly to the lord's chamber.
Louis Hawthorne was sitting by the fire, the flames leaping in his obsidian eyes. The man was at least thirty years older than him and yet, he looked as strong as a batting ram. He had a gaunt face and dark red hair fell in his eyes as he looked up at the spy.
"I trust you have news for me, William."
"Yes, my Lord." The spy stood where he had , shuddering ever so slightly at the cold. "I was down at the Inn."
"Sit." The lord gestured at the seat opposite him. "What did you hear?"
"The usual ramblings of the magic men - the wraiths and the faeries. Now however I fear their mad musings have merit. I -" He hesitated. "I heard them speaking of the demons. Of the End of Days."
For a moment there was silence, then Hawthorne burst out laughing. "You young and your wild fantasising. There are no such things as demons, William. Not anymore. They were rid of the Earth some three hundred years ago."
"No, my Lord," William pressed. "The necromancers. They -"
"They couldn't summon a spirit worth a dime, even if I laid a knife to their own necks."
"But my Lord-"
"Enough, William." Lord Hawthorne was losing his patience. "Do not make a fool of me, boy. Go now and find something of import or I shall I leave you to rot in the dungeons for all the good it would do me."
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