The Duke - 1st Draft
by Will Ashmore
The knots in your gut twist tighter as you wind your way up the stairs towards the Duke of Swarthia’s inner sanctum. Two hulking guardsmen behind you breathe heavily, struggling to keep pace in their heavy armour, as the chamberlain leads you onward. The spry old man pauses at the top to smooth his doublet, then pounds on the heavy oaken door three times with his rod. He casts a frigid glance at you over one shoulder...
“Mind your tongue, unless you’d care to lose it. The Duke is in foul spirits.”
The door swings wide, and the old man grasps your arm with a vice-like grip. He pulls you into the room with surprising force, sending you sprawling to the floor. One of the guards chokes back his obvious amusement as you struggle to compose yourself.
Looking up, you lock eyes with the Duke, who is seated in a large chair next to the hearth. He observes you with a kind of malevolent indifference for a long while, then suddenly: he speaks...
“Do you know why I’ve summoned you?”
Start again