The long hall which led to the chamber of the Lords had always seemed to Marcus as excessive. The hallway was nearly 50 meters long, and served only one purpose: to intimidate those who had been summoned to the chamber.
Marcus strode purposefully along the hall wearing his dress uniform, which was nearly indistinguishable from his casual dress uniform, except that his sword now hung at his left hip, and one of his Officer's Pistols sat in a holster at his right.
He was escorted by his four captains, the most senior of which, Jarrod, walked beside him, leaving a space in the two by three formation for one lieutenant.
He had chosen Paxton for the honor as he had never visited the chamber before. As such, his anxiety was so strong that Marcus was sure he could hear Paxton's heavy breathing from where he stood at the head of the group. As they neared the end of the hall they could see the ornate doors which led to the chamber. They were massive affairs, with ornate golden inlay that looped and curled around the outer edge of the door, complementing the rich, dark, wood.
Flanking the doors stood two guards in ceremonial uniforms of the Lords' Guard.
One of the most prized positions available for retired soldiers was that of a guardsman, and judging by the number of golden cords around their shoulders, these particular guardsmen had been selected for their fighting skills.
As approached the door, the guards opened the door and announced their presence to the Lords inside.
"Commander Crassus of the 5th Battalion, my Lords." The guard on the right said in a respectful yet carrying voice.
Once inside the doors, Marcus and his officers quickly knelt down onto their right knee with their right fists touching the floor, and their left hands grasping the hilts of their swords.
"My Lords." All six men said simultaneously, awaiting instructions.
"Welcome Commander." Lord Feston called from the dais where the Lords' thrones sat. "Please rise and come closer. Your men as well"
All six men stood up smartly and approached the dais where the Lord's thrones stood in a semi circle. They stopped at the edge of the steps and closed into a line surrounding the open half of the circle of thrones. Marcus walked up the steps alone to greet the Lords, with the nagging trepidation that he always felt when he was summoned.
It was not that the Lords were cruel or unfair men, it wasn't even that they didn't like him. In Marcus's mind the Lords had a fairly good opinion of him. However, despite all this they wielded enormous power. One word from any of them could have his career destroyed, and they could even have men executed on the spot. Not that that had happened in 50 years, but the power still remained, and it was something Marcus intended to keep in mind.
"So!" Lord Covax said jovially from the center throne, "We understand that the campaign in south Africa went as well as could be expected, what with the lack of advance warning from the Mining Guild about the stiff opposition... We summoned you here to tell us a little about it ... things that weren't in the official report ..." he finished, smiling widely.
What they really wanted, Marcus realized, was battle stories. Sitting on a throne all day running the state without any sort of excitement must be extremely boring.
With this realization the atmosphere became much more relaxed and less austere. So for the next quarter hour Marcus regaled them with stories about the campaign and the final assault on the town.
As he was wrapping up his last story, he looked down to see Lieutenant Paxton swaying on his feet. The young lieutenant was so nervous that he had been standing stiffly the entire time, locking his knees. If he didn't alleviate the pressure, he would pass out in front of the Lords.