Standing Stone
an excerpt

Standing Stone
Sunfire - 29th Year of the Reign of King Rollard of Elakand

Proclamation

The messenger paused in the entrance to the great hall of Castle Diamont. Seeing the court was gathered for the midday meal, he tossed back his dusty cloak to reveal white and gold ecclesiastical livery, fouled with horse sweat. He flicked a clot of muck from a boot and strode past bowing servitors and the courtiers and retainers seated at trestle tables to the dais.
He inclined his head to each in turn. "Chief Sacerdote Danestor." In orange silks. "My Lord Count Reynal." A pale, square face and iron-grey hair. "My Lady Countess Elisse." Still the most beautiful woman in Elakand. And by her side a handsome . . . Nephew? Son?
"Sir Loriano of Vayne--Troubadour." The man's smile was a shade too broad.
The messenger's face stiffened. He held up a scroll bound with seals and announced in a loud voice: "I bear an urgent proclamation from His Holiness High Priest Osgaron to be read to the people at the Midsummer Festival."
The whole court burst out laughing.
The messenger drew himself up, red-faced. "My lords, I come from the High Priest, and His Holiness speaks for Brocar. His Word is not a matter for levity!"
"Of course it is not! Calm yourself, my good fellow, calm yourself!" Count Reynal flapped one hand and tried to suppress a grin. "Unfortunately, our Midsummer Festival ended four days ago. Surely you encountered our departing guests along the road?"
The messenger muttered something unecclesiastical. "My horse went lame. I got lost in the forest," he gritted through clenched teeth.