>>5237613“I take it the original order used this iconography?” You ask.
“Yes, the Imperial Library had some for reference in the Capitol. I have it on good authority it is absolutely authentic, Captain-General.”
Having a visual identity is important for any fighting force or organization. Should help morale among your men at arms, knights, and even the more scholarly types. Even if it does seem cross purposes for an Order whose purpose is largely clandestine. As for authenticity, few living remember what the Beholders wore before they were disbanded. And even if they do, you really don't care.
“Very well. Garn, may you show me to my quarters? I haven't had the chance to ask , but I need to retire this evening if I am to be of any use at all tomorrow.”
“Oh, but of course Captain-General, just follow me. It's in the west wing tower. I hope you don't mind stairs, it's customary for the master of Barathon to be seated above it.” Honestly, it sounds impractical to you. But you can stand on ceremony, at least for now. You hope in your current exhaustion you can, in fact, handle the stairs the seneschal warned of.
It's some time before you arrive there, the second to last door on the long winding staircase of the tower.
“The last door is a balcony, of course. I do not recommend visiting it in weather like this, it gets quite windy. But the view is something on a clear day. Now then.” He opens the heavy wood door and reveals a surprisingly large quarters for a tower loft. At least the match for your quarters back in Hold Campbell in sheer area, it is considerably more luxurious in it's furnishing. A canopied bed much larger than any you can remember sleeping in, a wardrobe too large to be filled by the meager amount of clothing you brought with you, even the nearly unbelievable expense of a round copper mirror polished to a sheen. Noticing your expression, Garn clears his throat. “Ah, your predecessor was somewhat extravagant, Captain-General. I had what items you were traveling with brought up while you were familiarizing yourself with the castle. Do you require anything else?”
There's already a carafe of wine on the table next to the giant bed, so you suppose you got preempted on that one. “Thank you, Garn. You may return to your duties.”
With a bow, the seneschal leaves you alone with your thoughts. You intend to have a few goblets of mulled wine to quench your considerable thirst, but you barely down one before your tired bones scream for sleep, and you all but collapse onto the bed, your clothing discarded, and darkness takes you.
