Whispering Secrets

         Shards of wood crashed to the floor as an axe plunged through the newly opened whole in the dressing room door. Again and again the axe plummeted through the locked entrance before it buckled under the pressure. A woman’s horrified scream could be heard down the halls of the echoing theater. Several of the actors and dancers rushed to the hall at the start of the commotion. For any late comers they were met with a most unpleasant feeling deep in the pit of their stomach.
         The small room was crowed with six bodies. Two guards, night patrollers, stood shoulder to shoulder facing the hallway. Their breast plates were covered with the scales of fallen dragons. An array of blues, gold’s, greens and red were patched together, layered as if a second skin had been bestowed upon them. Both men were identical right down to the scowl on they’re face. Black hairs held neatly at the base of their necks were tied with small strips of silk. Black gloved hands gripped the hilts of swords as dark blue eyes scanned the growing crowd of people suspiciously. A third guard was kneeled of the floor, his back also turned to the center of the room. Not facing the crowd gave this guard the opportunity to show the young man in front of him a small amount of sympathy. Running his hands through his dark brown hair Bailo found this situation to be, at best, a war in the making.
         
         The great hall held few people but the noise was defining. Making mostly all of the noise was the Duchess of Agate.
         “This is an injustice to my family. We have been nothing but loyal to the crown and this is how we are repaid!” The Duchess stood face to face with the king’s royal advisors, a small group of Elites to which she belonged to as well. For the past hour the Duchess Agate demanded the attention of the king but was forced out by her fellow advisors. The arguing stopped the moment the thrown room doors were opened.
         Bailo stepped in front of the Duchess’ threatening fist, gently caressing her fingers as he led her through the doors and before the king. The thrown room was stripped bare save for three chairs. The floor was tiled, echoing, since the carpet had been pulled, rolled and put away. Bailo released the Duchess’s hand bowed slightly and retreated, closing the glided wooden doors behind him as he left.
         “Please” the king gestured to one of the empty chairs, “sit sweet Duchess we have much to talk about.” Smiling sweetly Holden, the king, descended the few stairs that separated him from the Duchess Agate. His golden hair lay flat beneath his simple silver crown. His green eyes lingered on the Duchess’ low cut dress as she respectfully bowed in his presents.
         “I’m afraid what you ask for My Lady is next to impossible.”
         The Duchess’ reaction was more predictable than the rising sun. Her caramel colored face reddened her green eyes danced with anger. Sweeping her dark red curls over her left shoulder she patiently held her tongue before her king.
         “I do not understand why nothing can be done” she ground out between her teeth. “The law clearly states that in these circumstances…”
         “That the offender is put to death, yes I know the law as well as you but it can not be done. I am afraid I must protect this offender.”
         “Why must you protect this man? Why! Has not my family been loyal long enough to ask this favor. We have bled for you and died for you. Why must you protect him! What value could he...”
         Slowly Holden held out a silver locket, it glistened and gleamed and silenced her “His name is Caleb, and he is my younger brother.”