Lerial is stiff and sore in a few places, but not nearly so much as he thought he might be. Undercaptain Woelyt strides forward to meet them. “What detachment is this? No one was expected at the palace this evening.” Eshlyn glances to Lerial, who eases the bay he has ridden for the latter part of the day forward. “I fear I’m the cause of the unexpected detachment, Undercaptain.” Woelyt looks up quizzically, starts to say something, then stops. After a moment, he goes on. “Lord Lerial … there was no word…” “No … I imagine there wasn’t. When Commander Altyrn felt my training was completed, he sent me back to Cigoerne with the dispatch rider and this escort party.” Lerial inclines his head. “Squad Leader Eshlyn was kind enough to take on the duty.” “Ser.” Eshlyn nods to the undercaptain. “We were to escort Lord Lerial to the palace and then continue to Lancer headquarters.” “I won’t keep you,” replies Woelyt.
