Martin is back!

Welcome everyone to the END OF THE SEMESTER!!! Summer promises to be a huge adventure for me. In case word skipped anyone, I will be working at Trefoil Ranch this summer. I'm their kitchen director. :D It makes me happy.

But the first adventure of summer was having my dad and brother fix my laptop. Thankfully, it's working again and I am able to edit and write now without worry of school getting in the way.

As promised, Martin is back. Review from a few weeks ago: Fred Chief had been introduced and Martin was made Spy Alex, the top most spy in Aeterna. Now, I think it's high time to introduce the villain....
***********
“And he’s the last one here,” Sona said with a sigh, watching at the fifth young man disappeared through the door.

Queen Abigail also watched, rubbing the side of her face. She knew when the search started it would take a while to find her son. “But it’s going to take longer than I thought.” There was nothing that could change the facts. Her son had been missing for sixteen years. Finding him overnight was not going to happen.

“And we still have all of Aeterna to search,” she sighed, leaning back in her chair. Already they had dismissed two of the young men; they confessed to being runaways. That left Martin, Dinny, and Matt as possible princes at the Tree. However, judging by the looks of all three of them, none resembled a Santer.

Glancing over at the research spy, Abigail was surprised to see a frown on her pretty face. “Something is bothering you?” she asked. Sona chuckled weakly.

“Several things are,” she admitted. She sank into her chair. “I can’t seem to get Martin’s question out of my mind. About why the prince was kidnapped. He’s right. The prince should have been held for ransom, but we were led to believe he was killed. Why?”

Abigail slowly nodded. The same question had been bothering her too. It kept her up half the night. She had been so emotionally distraught when he was kidnapped then supposedly killed that she hadn’t considered it before. Now though, with the excitement of learning he was still alive, she found herself asking questions she should have done before.

“It doesn’t make sense, does it?” The queen gazed thoughtfully through the door. “Henry was the heir to the Aeternan throne. He was more valuable alive then dead; we would have paid blood to get him back.”

“But he wasn’t held ransom,” Sona said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I could only come up with one reason why. He was more valuable as something other than the crown prince. What I can’t get is what could a two year old prince have that would make him that more valuable.”

“There is only one person who could answer that,” the queen said bitterly, tapping her finger on the table. “And I doubt General Terk will tell us anything. In fact, I guess he would blackmail us, laughing!”

“I know!” Sona exclaimed. Running her hands through her hair, she glared down at the large stash of papers before her. She frowned at the file for a moment before chuckling softly.

“Are you going to let me in on the joke?” the queen asked.

The researcher smiled. “Suit did say we can send as many field spies as we need. I’m sure one of our spies would gladly go get that information.”
********
“I’m to do what?”

Martin stared at the Spy Master. After he had taken his nap, he was summoned to Suit’s office, for what he supposed to be his first mission as the Alex. Although it was exactly that, he did not expect it to be on such a grand scale.

Suit raised an eyebrow. “I want you to go into General Terk’s camp and find out why he had the prince kidnapped,” he repeated. “And since I don’t want you to get caught sneaking in, you’ll be going into the camp as a diplomat.”

Martin continued to stare. “But… A spy needs ten years of experience before they’re allowed to impersonate someone like that. And then another five years before they’ll even meet with the high ranking enemies.”

“I know the rules, Martin,” Suit brushed aside. “But you’re the Alex now. Normal spying rules don’t apply to you.” He handed a folder over to him. Martin opened it, still a bit troubled. Yes, he was a good spy, but he was still too young. Those rules were set up for a reason. It always bothered him when others thought they could bend the rules because of their station. In his experience, it always led to problems.

“I need to stop thinking like an urchin,” he thought to himself, shaking his head. He was the Alex now; perhaps this was Suit’s way of getting him used to having the rules bent.

“You’ll be going under a false name,” Suit went on, pretending to not notice the silent argument his former apprentice was having with himself. “An Alex Hendricks, he’ll be your diplomat persona.” The Spy Master smirked. “Though, after you get back, I’d like you to create your own characters. Trust me on this; you’ll want a stash of names and contacts for emergency use.”

Martin smiled himself. He knew what it took to be the Alex. From the reports he read of other Alex Spies, formed characters helped when the unexpected came up.

“His background is in that folder,” Suit went on to say. “You already know what Terk is like, but I’ll caution you again. Be careful. His nickname isn’t the Mad General for nothing.”

Martin nodded in agreement. He knew the casualty list. “When do I leave?”

“Once you have your character formed.”
******
Princess Sara had gotten tired of being in the dry library all day. Sona may enjoy delving into records and finding small clues, but she was getting board.

“You don’t have to stay here,” Sona suddenly said. The princess jumped in her chair, turning to face the research spy.

“But I want to find my brother!” she protested. She really did want to find him, but she had been on the same record for half hour, reading it but she couldn’t say anything about it.

“We all want to find him,” Sona assured her. “But everyone needs a break. Go on. You can’t help find him when you’re about to doze off.”

Sara smiled weakly; she was about to fall asleep if she read another record. “I’m going to wander around,” she announced, standing. “See what this Tree has to offer.”

“Good luck!” Sona laughed. “When you get lost enough, ask someone for directions back.”

The princess didn’t understand what the luck was for until she did get lost. Unlike other forts, the Tree flowed to a different theme. The passages swerved along side the large oak roots, corridors suddenly ended for no apparent reason, stairs would appear beyond the corner. Once, she opened a door only to find yet another hall.

“This place is weird,” she muttered to herself. She would have asked for help, but she actually liked the difference. It promised to be quiet an adventure to explore this magical fort.

As she explored the mysteries of the Tree, she spotted Martin walking purposely in another direction. The princess frowned. What could he be doing? Her curiosity aroused, she followed after him.

It did surprise her when Martin appeared on Sona’s list. She had been staring at him when her mother and the research spy were done interviewing him, wondering why he had made that list. But then, suddenly, he stared her down. She shivered at the memory. She had no desire to find herself under those piercing eyes again.

But she was still curious. He was, after all, the first on the list.

Martin didn’t seem to notice her following as he opened a door and greeted whoever was inside. Laughing at something she didn’t hear, he walked in, closing the door behind him.

“What’s he doing?” she wondered. Without any reservation, she opened the door and walked in. She stopped a few steps in, gawking at what was before her. It looked as if she had entered an old backstage dressing room, filled with clothes, jewelry, theater paints, and wigs. Each costume was carefully hung on tightly packed racks, wigs and jewelry on shelves above the racks.

“Do you need something, Your Highness?”

The voice made Sara jump. Spinning around, she saw an old lady sitting behind a desk, sewing a patch on a tattered cloak.

“Um,” she said, still overwhelmed by the amount of everything in the room. “I saw Martin come in here…”

“He’s farther back,” the old woman replied, giving her a wrinkled smile. “You’d better hurry and find him before he’s completely unrecognizable.”

Confused by the warning, Sara went into the maze of color, her eyes trying to take in the amount found in this one room. She knew that with different combination of clothes, makeup, and wigs, someone could go through their entire lives being a different person everyday. She wandered around, completely amazed by the sheer possibilities the room had to offer

“You know,” a deep voice called out, “if you keep going around with your jaw hanging open like that, you’re going to swallow a bug.”

Spinning around, Sara found Martin sitting at a desk with a large mirror. She stared at him. Yes, it was Martin, but he was different.

“What happened to your nose?” she asked, joining him at the desk. At her approach, she saw it covered with theater makeup, false chins, and an ugly white wig.

“It’s false,” he said, leaning up close to the mirror and gently patting powder on the false square nose to blend it with his skin. “But the real question is what are you doing here?”

Sara scowled. How could he tease her like this? “Probably because he doesn’t have any respect for spoiled brats.” Taking a deep breath, she decided it was probably best to answer.

“I was exploring the Tree when I saw you come in here. I was just wondering what you were doing.”

Martin chuckled, leaning back from the mirror. Picking up the false chins, he held it up to his own chin then lowered it and began using what she assumed as glue to the inside of it. “I’m going on a mission.”

“A mission?” she asked, looking around for a chair and dragged the closest over. She sat down and propped her elbows on the desk. “What is it?”

“Can’t tell you,” he smirked, pasting the chins on.

“Oh,” she whined. “Come on. You can tell me. The only person in Aeterna who outranks me is the queen.”

Martin snorted as he picked up the pad with the powder. “Just because you’re high ranking doesn’t mean it’s important for you to know. Besides, you’re still a kid.” He stopped applying the makeup to give her a serious look. “Enjoy your childhood while you can. The time of ignorance will pass sooner than you think.”

Sara stared at him and the odd lecture he had given her. What did he mean? But then she realized that she was under his stare again. Shivering, she turned away. She heard him snort softly. Looking back up, she saw him continue working on his face.

“Well,” she said, clearing her throat. “If you can’t tell me what your mission is, how about telling me why you’re making yourself look like someone else.”

“It’s for my mission,” he answered. “I don’t want to be recognized.”

“And making yourself look like an old man is going to do the trick?” she asked, unconvinced. “Come on, Martin, you’re a young man. How are you going to pull off an old man?”

Martin grabbed the wig and quickly put it own. Before she could react, he reached out with an unsteady hand and pinched her cheek.

“Well,” he said in a quaky voice and smiling like an idiot. “Aren’t you a cute little girl. Now, tell me, how old are you?”

Sara jumped back, surprised by the act. Martin smirked again and took off the wig. The princess rubbed her cheek where he had pinched her. He really did have some nerve, teasing her like this.

“Alright,” she grumbled, “you can do the act.” His only response was another chuckle. Glancing at the wig, she asked, “How were you able to put that on with such ease?”

“I’ve practiced at it,” he answered, finishing with his new chins. “And I keep my hair short. That’s how.”

“You’re really good at this,” she noticed, “aren’t you?”

“Disguises are my specialty.” Martin picked up a wax pencil and began drawing wrinkles on his face. “Even when I was a kid, I would steal clothes and dirty old mop heads to disguise myself. It came in very handy when I was trying to avoid getting caught.”

Sara frowned. She had expected to hear about the practice but the story from his childhood was something different. “Did he not… have one?” It would explain why he told her to enjoy her childhood. “Where did you come from, Martin?”

However, she didn’t ask the question. Something told her he would clam up the moment she started asking.

“Your disguises have certainly gotten more complicated,” she noted, steering away from the subject. Martin smiled with a nod.

“That they have.”

She watched him a bit longer as he applied the wax wrinkles under his eyes. Were all her possible brothers like him? Did they all have stories filled with the pain she heard in his voice?

“Maybe,” she began to wonder, “Maybe I should start knowing these possible brothers. They’ve all got their own stories.”

“Can you give me a few pointers?” she asked. Martin glanced at her.

“Planning on escaping notice of people?” he asked, smirking. “Sorry, your Highness, you’re too well known in these halls now.”

“It’d be a useful skill to have,” she threw back. “I should learn while I can.”

Martin continued to stare at her, as if judging her for it. Finally he shrugged. “Alright, the first thing you should know about disguises is that most of the time, the simplest ones are the best.”
*********
“Are you at least going to tell us where you’re going?” Luke asked as they rode to Firth.

Martin tried to glare at his friend, but he knew with his disguise on as an old man, he could hardly look threatening.

“I told you,” he repeated to them, “I can’t tell you.”

“Then we shall guess,” Thomas declared. “From the looks of things, you have disguised yourself as an old man, though not too old. Your wig is still full of hair, suggesting that your persona is not yet able to retire.”

“You’re wearing rich men clothes,” Luke went on, “suggesting also that your persona is a man used to money. Also, you’ve been holding your posture high, meaning the persona is an arrogant person, different than yourself.”

“Now our guess,” Thomas finished, “you’re a either a nobleman or diplomat headed for an enemy camp. That’s why we’re escorting you to the group of guards who are at Firth to pick you up.”

Martin rode on in silence. Leave it to his friends to figure out what Sara could not. Then again, they were trained to be observant.

“So,” Luke said when he didn’t answer, “which enemy camp you going to?”

“Is it your business?” He knew what their reactions would be when they realized just who he was going to met.

“If it involves you getting in so much danger you can’t get out of it,” Luke’s easy reply came. “Now, are you going to tell us or are we going to have to find out the hard way?”

“I’m going to Fort Pinewood,” he grumbled.

“Fort Pinewood?” Thomas frowned. “Isn’t that where General Terk is currently stationed?”

“Martin…” Luke started, sitting tall in his saddle.

“Listen,” he snapped, before he got another lecture of being careful. “I can’t stop my life because I might be a prince. This is what I’ve been trained to do. So, you need to back off and let me do my job.”

Luke started to protest when Thomas held up a hand. “He’s right,” he said softly. “It’s his job now, as the Alex, to do these kind of things. And besides, you don’t think Suit would send him if he thought it was too dangerous for him, do you? Our Spy Master is very much aware that he’s on the list.”

Surprisingly Luke shut up, though he did pout the rest of the way to Firth. Even when Martin finally joined the real escort to Fort Pinewood, Luke gave him a short salute; he was sure the gesture was meant to be insulting.

“Oh Luke,” Martin thought as he watched his friends ride back to the Tree, “I don’t completely believe it, why do you?” He was going to have a long talk with him when he got back.

“Excuse me, m’lord,” said the captain of his escort, “where to?”

Martin wanted to flinch at being called m’lord, but hid it. “Fort Pinewood. I have a meeting with General Terk.” If they were surprised by the destination, they hid it. Forming a circle around him, they rode off in the direction of Pinewood.

Martin kept his eyes forward as they rode, considering what he should have before accepting the mission. Luke was right; he should be careful. He admitted the possibility of him being prince and he knew how dangerous his job was. But what he also said was right. He couldn’t just drop his life and live in a locked room until they discovered who the prince was. This was his job and he was going to do it. Even as he thought it, he remembered the danger and Luke’s argument.

“Thinking like this isn’t going to help me.” He shook his head. It was going to take them two weeks to get to Fort Pinewood. Plenty of time to think of a way to get out of the mess.
********
The journey to Fort Pinewood was long, boring, and about drove Martin nuts. He took off the wig when he went to bed, but he had to leave the rest of his disguise on. The itch of his growing beard was annoying him. The night before they arrived at the fort, he took off his false chins to shave. He was not going to approach one of the most dangerous men in Aeterna with his mind half on the itch on his chin.

But as much as his disguise annoyed him, the guards were even worse. This was his first mission where he impersonated a nobleman. The other missions, he was always just a commoner, someone easily dismissed. After all he could blend into a crowd without trying. Being called m’lord just set him on edge.

“But if I am the prince,” he thought as they set out for the last day, “Then I’ll be called that all the time.” It was not a comforting thought.

Around noon they turned to ride down a large canyon and followed the shallow river that cut the stone ground over the years. Martin resisted the temptation to stand in his stirrup to find the fort. They arrived too soon in any case. Fort Pinewood was built into a side of a cliff, a testament to Aeternan engineering. But the Venter take over had made the testament like a dark stain on the cliff. Flags of blue and silver were hung from the battlements, a sharp contrast to the orange stone of the canyon. Cold wind whipped against Martin’s velvet cloak, causing him to shiver slightly. But he was sure his shiver had more to do with entering the fort than the breeze.

The draw bridge lowered, allowing the delegation to enter the fort. Martin sat tall on his horse, portraying an arrogant nobleman, even though he felt his stomach do summersaults. He feigned indifference when he passed through the fort’s gate and was ordered to get off his horse. As he pretended to stumble off his horse a Venter soldier approached him.

“Ambassador Alex Hendricks?” he asked with a bland voice.

“That is my name,” Martin replied with a yawn. “Where is General Terk?”

“He is busy at the moment,” the soldier replied. “But if you will follow me, I will take you where you can refresh yourself from your journey.”

“Thank you,” the spy said, following after the soldier. “The trail can be harsh.”

There was a small smile from the soldier. “So it can be.”

The soldier led Martin farther into the fort. The spy kept his eyes open, trying to note anything useful. The cutout practice field was strangely empty. Martin suppressed a snort.

“They don’t want me to see anything I shouldn’t,” he thought as they took a sudden left into a hall with nothing but doors. “But, then again, I am a new ambassador. I wouldn’t trust myself either.”

The soldier opened one of the many doors, revealing a plain room with only a table and a few chairs.

“The General will be with you as soon as he can,” the soldier said with a bow as Martin moved into the room. “I’ll arrange for some food to be brought.” With it said, he bowed again and left, closing the door behind him.

Martin glared at the door, frustrated that he was unable to gather any information from the simple walk. Knowing that there wasn’t anything he could do, the spy sat down and waited. A few minutes later a slave came in and left a tray of food. The slave didn’t even look him in the eye, but kept his eyes down. Giving a rather quick bow, the slave hurried from the room.

“Slaves,” Martin said darkly. He had seen enough of the slave market when he was at Loman; escaping a few of the slave catchers as well. He had seen how the slaves were treated. Under fed, over worked, the hopelessness in their eyes, in their souls. He had breathed a sigh of relief when he learned that Aeterna was one of the few nations to have outlawed slavery.

He was debating about the food delivered when the door opened again. But this time, Martin stood to attention.

“Sorry about the wait,” the man said, brushing the front of his fine blue uniform. “War keeps us all on our toes. I am General Terk.” He held out a hand.

Martin suppressed another shiver. Terk was a tall man, opposing and stern. Standing a foot taller, he loomed over the spy. Terk wore his dark greased hair back, revealing a narrow face with a long nose and thin black eyes. As Martin shook his hand, he stiffened. The General’s hands were icy cold and hard.

“I am Ambassador Alex Hendricks,” he said, pulling his hand back. “You’ve received the letter, I take?”

Terk chuckled. The sound of it made Martin’s nerves tingle uncomfortably. “I have,” Terk replied, sitting down and grabbing an apple. He propped his feet up on the table. “I must confess, Ambassador, I was mildly surprised to get it.” He took a bite out of his apple

“Aren’t we all,” Martin said carefully. Sitting back down, he did not break eye contact. “He knows something,” he thought, noting the smug smile on the Venter general’s face. “The question is what?”

“So, tell me,” Terk said, taking another bite, “what kind of information will we be exchanging?”

“It is mostly up to you,” he replied, slowly lacing his fingers together and propping them up on the table. “It depends on how much you know about a certain… recent discovery.”

Terk raised a thick eyebrow. “A recent discovery? May I ask what it was about and why I might be… involved in it?”

“Remember some sixteen years ago,” Martin started, watching Terk’s face carefully, “when the crown prince of Aeterna was taken from the palace and killed?”

The general’s eyes widened then narrowed. The reaction surprised Martin. “I remember it,” he tried to say casually but failing at the tone. The spy heard the heat in the general’s voice. “What about it?”

“The recent discovery was that our prince might yet be alive,” he said, noting the look of triumph in Terk’s eyes. “If you remember correctly, the kidnappers were suspected to be Venteran.”

“Indeed,” Terk said, a mad laugh reaching his eyes. “That is interesting to learn.”

“That is an understatement,” Martin said with a small smile. “You get information if you tell us anything you know about the prince.”

Terk gazed at his half eaten apple, deep in thought. Martin waited, unsure how the general would react. There was a reason Terk was nicknamed ‘the Mad General.’ He was unpredictable. One minute he could be pleasant and charming, the next he would be beheading his own friend.

“I must think on this,” Terk said finally, looking Martin strait in the eyes. “I’ll see to it that you and your men are set up for the night.” Without waiting for an answer, the general stood up and left the room.
************
Martin paced around the guest chambers, wondering how long he was going to be forced to wait. He hated this. Not being able to do anything or go anywhere. This left him feeling nervous and restless. The combination was not something he cared for. It gave him the time to think about things he would rather not.

He paused at a mirror, seeing the face that he had put on. He was used to seeing his face as someone else’s; he had mastered that art long ago. It was almost like an obsession, it was as if he were trying to find a face that would fit. He thought nothing of it. But after his dreams with the wrong reflection, he started seeing things differently. All the questions he had avoided thinking about during the journey returned in force. What if he was the prince? Could it be quite possible that he had been staring at the wrong face all along? Was that why he could take on other faces? Because he didn’t have one of his own?

Martin shook his head. That did not make any sense at all. Certainly, if he were the prince, he should have at least looked like he belonged to the royal family.

A knock at his door saved him from thinking further into the matter. A Venter soldier came in and bowed.

“General Terk would wish to speak to you again.”

“It’s about time,” he thought irritably as he passed the soldier and into the hall. He let the soldier led to the conference room, although he had already memorized the way.

By the time he had arrived, a meal was being set on the table and Terk was already sitting.

“Good evening,” the general said, standing up and shaking Martin’s hand again. As before, the spy had to suppress a shutter as he shook the ice hand. “I hope your accommodations are to your liking.”

“They are,” he replied, sitting down. “I’ve never been to Fort Pinewood before. I must confess, I was expecting the beds to be hewed from the stone.”

Terk laughed, the mad look in his eyes giving Martin an uneasy feeling. If he ever needed to remind himself why he fought against this man, this first meeting was going to be one of those reminders.

“Yes, you Aeternans are a bit upright and stiff,” the general said, pouring himself a drink. He took a slow sip. “Speaking of upright and stiff, pour yourself a drink.”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” Martin said with a fake sigh. “My healers tell me to stay away from spirits. Something about my liver.”

Terk barked a laugh. “You may live longer, but life will be without something.”

Martin shrugged. “Shall we discuss what I’ve come here for?”

“What?” the general asked, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you like it here inside Fort Pinewood?”

“You must be a master observer,” Martin said, nodding his head in acknowledgement. “Forgive me, but I am not fond of being encased in stone.” Truth was, Martin didn’t care wither or not he was in the stone fort. He was used to living underground.

“Yes,” Terk said, “it is a bit nerve racking. What kind of information are you willing to provide?”

“That depends on what you can tell me about the prince,” Martin answered strait away. Terk was known to try to get information without paying the price.

“Then we’ve reached a problem, Hendricks,” Terk sighed dramatically. He waved a slave over to refill his drink. “Why should I reveal anything when I don’t know what I’m getting in return?”

“The feeling is the same on my side of the table,” the spy growled. “Seems we do have a problem.”

Terk swirled the drink in his glass, staring into it as if the answer could be found there. Martin sat, waiting for a reply. Just because Terk had been civilized with him so far did not ease him into a sense of security. He knew how unbalanced the Mad General was.

“And I will guess bribes won’t work with you,” the general suddenly said, almost to himself. “I’ve said it before. You Aeternans are an upright and stiff people. When will you realize the world outside your ‘perfect’ nation is nothing like you want it to be?” This last part became a yell.

Martin sat in silence, not trusting himself to answer. He did know what the world was like outside Aeterna. He had no desire to go back.

Terk downed his drink. Bang! He slammed it down on the table, shacking the tableware with the force of his fist.

“I want your information,” he growled, standing slowly from his chair. “You’ve obviously been told a lot, so much just in case I know that critical piece of information concerning your prince. About where he is.”

Martin glanced around the room, nervous to see both slaves and soldiers back away from the table. He too stood. The situation had become dangerous.

“Listen, Terk,” he said, walking around the table as the Mad General began circling the table to him, “I can’t tell you anything. Not until you tell me something first.”

The Mad General laughed. “I wouldn’t be sure about that.” Before Martin could react, Terk jumped over the table and hit him across the face. The spy fell with a cry, cradling his false nose. He gasped when he realized the force of Terk’s fist had dislodged the square nose from his own. Hearing the general walking up behind him, he quickly considered breaking his nose to keep a reason for holding on to it when the ice hands took hold of his shoulders and spun him around.

“Now listen here, Hendricks…” Terk began to say, raising his fist when he saw the false square nose hanging from his face, dangerously close to falling off. The room was silent as they all stared at Martin’s strait nose.

Terk then laughed.

“So,” he said, grinning as he finished ripping the nose off. “You’re actually a spy, are you?” Grabbing hold of his false chins and wig, the general ripped them off as well. Martin gritted his teeth to keep himself from crying out as the glue took skin with it.

“And a young spy as well.” Terk continued to laugh. Martin just sat there. He was exposed and caught in Terk’s strong hold.

“I told Suit I was still too young,” he thought, glaring up at the mad man laughing above him. “Why didn’t he listen? Why did I go with it?” But he was caught and he still didn’t have any answers.
********
And so, Martin has been captured by the enemy, though this time he didn't mean to. So, until next post, enjoy contemplating Martin's fate!