Today, time passed so slowly. How long had he been sitting in that room, waiting for them to call him? Was it an hour yet, or had merely minutes passed? His incessant pacing no doubt made the time seem greater than it was. Despite giving you something to do, pacing was almost magical in its ability to slow down time and make one more agitated about the future. Now this crossed his mind, Caelan stopped his pacing abruptly. Perhaps if he stood still, something he was adept at, time would pass faster? Of course it was but idle speculation, but even idle speculation was more interesting than staring at the gilded walls, no how masterful their decoration.

It was a simple fact of nature that a man as important and busy as the King would often be out of time with his appointments, forcing the less important subject to wait. Despite knowing this, Caelan found himself feeling unusually impatient, most likely because he did not mind waiting and watching when there was a goal in mind, but to be effectively trapped in a room, no matter how lavish, was pointless. There was nothing to learn, no people to observe, nothing to hear. It was, to put it simply, downright boring, and Caelan was not someone who bored easily.

The blonde haired man sighed loudly, despite a small voice at the back of his mind, a remnant of his noble days, telling him it was rude to do so. Though who cared, the room was empty, bar the few large paintings of people who even in death were probably more important than himself. Perhaps this irritation he felt at being kept waiting, although justifiably, was a result of his noticeable lack of sleep? At least then he would have reason enough to be restless. Though once again it was idle speculation, something he seemed to be prone to do.

Perhaps it would be better if he kept his mind on the situation at hand, rather than wondering about such pointless things as sleep deprivation and restless feet. The reason he was attending to meet with the king in the first place was due to some news that he had recently acquired on his travels. For the last few weeks he had been residing at the borders of the country, often crossing over the enemy lines to do what he did best. It was a learning experience, to say the least, with the cultures being significantly different from one another, but Caelan was a clever man, he knew what to say and when. Despite all this there was little information about the situation that the King did not already know. Perhaps a few updated numbers and locations of forces, but nothing drastically new.

On his return to the capital, a detour had been made to one of the nearby fiefdoms, where the talk of uprising had been whispered. Although nothing definite as of yet, which of course was the main reason he was to speak to the king. Caelan could generally choose his own tasks, but in a situation like this one, it was his ruler’s final decision on which matter should be more important to the spy. There was little more knowledge to be gained from the borders, it was generally up to military genius now, but perhaps the King had other plans, it was not Caelan’s place to speculate, merely obey.

So with any luck the waiting would soon be over, and Caelan would discuss this matter with his master, with just little hope that he was not forced to return to the borders.

That Lawley boy. Aedan had seen very little of him, by choice, but he had covertly sent his spymaster to the Lawley fiefdom to gather information. It could prove useful if he were to trust the idiot in command of his forces in battle. Sometimes you had to be coercive. It was already clear that Darien wouldn't obey his king out of the loyalty or goodness of his heart.

Aedan had been in a meeting with his General, whose opinion in the aftermath of the fiasco of the border skirmish (how had the barbarians managed to breach their walls? It was unacceptable) had been invaluable. Now he strode quickly down the halls, his boots beating out a rapid tempo on the flagstones, his guards scurrying behind him. He dismissed them with a wave of his hand when he entered his audience chamber.

"Call in Ramsden," he said curtly, over his shoulder, and settled into his chair to wait.

Aedan was put-upon and sorely preoccupied, true, but he couldn't keep from feeling the fire of excitement as it flared in his chest. For as long as he could remember, he had wanted to go to war. Had waited, restlessly, while the kingdom prospered, while he'd managed to make alliances with a few Scalian barons. And now it as all happening at once...

And there was still so much bureaucratic, boring work. And his marriage. But by the end of the year, or at the latest next spring--this Aedan swore to himself--he'd be at the front. In the meantime he would keep a close eye on, well, everything.

"Ramsden," he said, waving the man in with a gesture of greeting. The guards knew to stay out, now. Meetings with his spymaster were always private. "Take a seat."