A Silent Game of Spies

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They were a day out. She expected to be home by this evening. Myrischka wanted a hot bath, a warm fire, and her own bed. And decent food. She was content now that there was a time table for her new ships.

“Your Majesty, I – pardon, Your Majesty, I have a message for you.” A courier was trotting alongside her.

Myrischka took in a deep breath and turned to stare at him. “Do you not see where I am?” She gestured to the wide expanse of snow, to the billowing banners at the front of her train, the men riding three by three before her to protect her, and the guard to either side of her.

“Begging all pardons, Your Majesty, I do. This was important enough that the man who gave it to me said it was urgent. He said you needed to see it immediately, so you could consider its contents on your way home.”

Myrischka lifted an eyebrow. If nothing else, it sounded curious. She accepted the message and brushed the courier aside.

Her mouth dropped open at its contents. Well, well, well. “Go back,” she told the courier, “and tell him he was right to send me word.”

The courier set off immediately.

Oooooo. Rhutgard. The man was far slyer than she had credited him for.

This changed the gameboard dramatically….

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