Chapter One
The sun just peeked over the horizon spilling its light across the plains and sparkled off the blue waters of the lake as the ring of swords echoed through the courtyard. A fine mist still hung in the shadows of the palace walls not yet chased away by the sun’s rays.
“Do not allow yer guard to drop!” A voice cut across the clash and clang of metal in the practice yard. Dozens of boys were paired off and scattered about the yard worn to dirt from the hundreds of feet over the decades. “Watch yer shields! If ye let the enemy that close and drop yer guard yer’ll be skewered.”
A man moved among the youths with a lazy stride, but his eyes sized up each pair as he passed, pausing only to shout instructions and point out weaknesses. Kallum Syer Theras watched the man’s approach with a wary eye and ignored the drag on his arm from another blow to his shield. His sword arm was numb from the hours of sparring, and yet still he circled with his partner. Sweat matted his hair across his forehead, turning it an even darker shade of brown, and he spared a brief moment to swipe the bangs from his eyes.
“Watch yer shield, Prince. Keep holding it there and ye’ll take a blade to yer neck!” The man bellowed before moving on to the next set of sparring boys. Kallum ignored his instructor as he moved away and side stepped to keep his sparring partner in front of him and turned his body to present as small a target as possible.
As another blow hurtled toward his head, Kallum raised his shield and staggered off balance as the force radiated through his already tired, aching body. His opponent’s dark eyes lit up as he noted the opening, and he pressed forward with another thrust Kallum managed to catch on his shield.
“Yield to me!” The boy hissed through gritted teeth as the two stood toe-to-toe. They were equally matched in height despite the two-year age difference. Their wide shoulders strained and their feet dug into the earth beneath them as they each tried to force the other to back down. “You cannot best me!”
This was nothing new for Kallum, since his arrival in Livingston, Vlandamyuirian’s capital city; he had learned to hone his defenses. Parrying the next blow with his sword, he circled to the left again and watched his opponent for a clue to his next move, his own icy blue eyes sparkling with anticipation as he set his feet and kept his mind clear to plan his next move.
“Come, Prince, surely you know defeat when you see it. I have beaten you. I am better than you!” The boy sneered and his face twisted into a grimace. A broad forehead tapered to a long, narrow nose and his lips were a thin, grim line. It was not a handsome face at the best of times, full of anger, frustration and hate, he looked harsh and cruel. Backing away slightly, Derric Sedgwick rotated his right shoulder attempting to loosen the cramping muscles.
Blocking out Derric’s voice, Kallum had learned his lessons well and would not let the taunts goad him into an attack as they had in the past. He kept his features smooth, allowed none of the emotions running through him show on his face to give him away. His eyes tracked his opponent, his firm jaw remained set and he jutted out his chiseled chin with determination. The young noble’s insults meant little, and Kallum knew if he responded it only evoked more aggression from his tormentor. He understood his very existence had been a shock to all those within Livingston. King’s Guard Captain Bedwin’s arrival with Kallum and the former King’s Guard Captain Lores Theras had brought a dead prince back to life.
A crown prince thought to have been killed at birth; Kallum’s arrival had quashed a squabble over the rights of succession, but unleashed a whole new upheaval within the Vlandamyuirian Kingdom. There were nobles who had arranged marriages and bought titles for years to gather the necessary power for a chance to gain the high king’s throne. These nobles were not convinced a resurrected crown prince settled those rights of succession, no matter what the king decreed.
Kallum was raised in the countryside far from the intrigue and politics of the royal court. He was still looked upon as a peasant, no matter what blood flowed in his veins; or how many people proclaimed him the spitting image of the young Haram Syer, who had claimed the throne so many years before. Thrust among the peers of the realm, the king expected Kallum would be treated as the future ruler, but few did. The slights, slurs and insults hurled his way often cut more brutally than any blow from a practice weapon. His only recourse was to learn to shut out such taunts and speak with his sword.
But while Kallum was more adept at handling the insults, his boyhood companions, who traveled with him from Evansfield, were not yet ready to overlook insults to their friend. Nearby, Chance Lering heard the taunts and decided to come to his friend’s aid. He dispatched his opponent with a maneuver learned from a barroom brawl and slammed into Kallum’s opponent. He then took up a support position to Kallum’s left.
“Chance, Keep away! I can deal with this!” Kallum shouted and threw his friend an angry glance before he turned back to prepare for Derric’s renewed attack. “I know you only seek to help, but this is my fight.”
“Sera, Kal. I heard what that pile of dung said. I’ll not stand by and have ye insulted! I promised to fight by yer side and that’s just what I’ll do!” Chance tossed his head to clear the black, sweat soaked hair from eyes that sparkled with pleasure and mischief.
They stood shoulder to shoulder and watched their sparring partners move toward them. Kallum and Chance attacked together and pushed beyond their opponents. They stumbled in amongst the other pairs and brought the practice to a halt.
“I knew you were a coward, peasant. Cannot fight your own battles, you need your peasant companions to come to your aid in a simple sparring match. How do you think to rule a kingdom?” He taunted. As the Earl of Plontimyuir’s son and the ring leader of the young nobles, Derric Sedgwick developed an instant dislike for the newcomers. “Can you not fight alone?”
A few boys giggled, and most already chose sides in the familiar practice yard brawl. Three shadows slipped out of the crowd and took up positions at Kallum’s side as the other young nobles spread out to surround the crown prince and his supporters.
“I see today will be no exception.” Talon Nedar called over his shoulder to Kallum from his position on the right as he parried blows from the first noble leading the charge. Beside him a newcomer to the group, Jason Militis said nothing but threw himself into the fray his sword flashed in the morning sunlight.
“Aye, Talon. It is the usual trouble.” Chance tossed back with a smile. He quickly learned to enjoy a good brawl from his constant forays into brothels and taverns in the city. Of all the boys, Chance dreamed of escaping the dull life of a farmer and exploring the big cities in the legend and stories.
“Only Chance could be so happy in the midst of a brawl,” Walis Ater, Kallum’s squire muttered as he fought off another set of blows from several of the boys who danced in the circle around them.
“It is his element,” Kallum grunted. He hooked his right leg around the left of one boy he faced and dropped him to the ground in time to avoid the attack from a second boy who jumped in from the left.
Instructor Jarrel knew there was little he could do to stop the brawl. It was a daily occurrence and the instructor was tired of it. While the noble houses continued to battle with the king over Kallum’s right to succeed him on the throne, the practice yards continued to dissolve into political squabbles.
Leaving the mob behind, Jarrel hurried into the office of Knight Captain Karl Perrin, “They are at it again, Captain.”
With a sigh, Karl rose from his desk and revealed a body honed on the battlefield, not yet softened by his newly acquired desk assignment. Long legs carried him around the desk where he grabbed his sword. Jarrel trailed behind him out the door. “It is time these boys learned a lesson. Call the Guard and tell them Prince Kallum needs assistance.” He strode down the hall toward the noise of the brawl. “These lads shall see what it means to draw steel on royalty.”
As Karl arrived at the practice field, Kallum and his companions chased back most of the boys. They ringed the crown prince and cheered on Derric and a few of the older boys that continued to press the fight. None of them noticed the arrival of Karl or the Kings Guard.
“What goes here, Captain?” Bedwin Rothal demanded as his keen gaze surveyed the melee on the practice yard.
“It is becoming too much of a habit for practice to end up like this,” Karl said as he motioned to the swirling ring of fighters. “Derric and the other nobles continue to gang up on Prince Kallum and his friends. Jarrel has been unable to finish a single lesson.”
In the midst of the brawl, Derric noticed the dwindling support and attempted to rally more to his cause, “Are you all going to allow a weak prince to beat you? Shall you simply bow down to his rule? Will you not seek to find a true leader?”
Derric’s words encouraged a few back into the battle, and Bedwin decided he had seen and heard enough. He pushed through the boys cutting a path straight toward Kallum. As the other noble youths recognized the King’s Guard captain, they fell back and dropped their weapons to their sides. Derric thought he had finally won them over the crowd until his next blow directed at Kallum fell on a new sword.
Whirling to see who had dared to interfere, Derric was shocked to look up into the hard, battle-worn face of King’s Guard Captain Bedwin. “Wh-what are you doing here, Sir Guard?” Derric stammered out and staggered back a step.
Bedwin sheathed his sword and looked out over the group taking note of the faces that stood with Derric and those with Kallum, “I was summoned to protect the crown prince. What goes here?” he asked with hands splayed on his narrow hips.
“Was simply a sparring session, Sir Guard. The Prince and I were paired today and I was suddenly attacked by one of those lowly peasant boys. I sought only to defend myself,” Derric answered, but kept his eyes lowered to keep Bedwin from seeing his anger and contempt.
“Looked more like an armed revolt against the prince lead by you, Derric,” Karl said as he tapped the sword Derric still gripped tightly in his hand. “Is that not so?”
“Nay, t'was only sparring,” Derric raised his eyes and glared at Captain Karl. “It is no fault of mine if my friends came to my aid as I was overwhelmed by them.”
“Is that how it happened? Did one of you join in with Prince Kallum against Derric?” Bedwin looked over Kallum and the boys spread out at his side.
Chance stepped forward, “Aye, I did join Kal to protect him from Derric. Methinks he’s turned one cheek already. He should not have to turn yet another,” Chance pointed out the slowly fading line that ran from Kallum’s left ear along his jaw disappearing under his chin.
Early in the boys training, Derric got a shot at Kallum when Jarrel was distracted by another group of boys. Kallum had sworn the group to secrecy as to how he had been injured; he now stepped forward himself grabbing Chance’s arm, “Hold your tongue, Chance,” he pushed him back into line with the others.
“Wait!” Bedwin looked between the boys standing before him. His eyes met each boy’s in turn assessing their reactions. “Did Derric give you that wound?” he asked.
Kallum gave Chance a dark look. Chance shrugged his narrow shoulders in return as he casually caressed the hilt of his practice sword. He never thought it a good idea for Kallum to keep quiet about Derric’s actions, and he knew his friend would forgive him for spilling the secret. Knowing Bedwin awaited an answer, Kallum turned back to face the King’s Guard captain.
“Aye, Sir Guard, Derric marked me on our first day as a reminder to never best him at practice again. I disarmed him and he pulled a dagger from his boot. He slashed my face. So I would see it every day and remember.” Kallum folded his arms across his chest. “It is why Captain Karl disallowed all weapons but practice swords in the yard.”
“You knew of this incident, Captain?” Bedwin looked back at Karl in surprise. This was much more than boys who squabbled for dominance in the practice yard, and was something that should have been brought to the attention of the king, the Guard and the King’s Councilor Zeyer Radorm.
“Aye, of a dagger being used on the practice yard,” Captain Karl looked just as startled with Kallum’s revelation. “Not who had held it or why.” He looked at Derric where he stood seething in anger.
“Nay, sir Guard! He lies. It was not—” Derric stammered out a rebuttal, but Bedwin cut him off with a sharp gesture.
“Enough!” Without another word, Bedwin sent them off to their tutors calling an end to the morning’s practice.
When the last of the boys had left the yard, he sent the Guard back to their duties and motioned to Captain Karl to follow him to the palace. It appeared time to inform King Haram, Lores and Zeyer of the happenings amongst the young nobles.
In the king’s study, Bedwin and Karl explained what had been going on in the practice sessions since Kallum’s return to Livingston. King Haram sat quietly behind the large oak desk arranged before two large leaded windows that gave a view of the main courtyard of Ahzyr Palace, the main gate and Regillius Lake in the distance. Around the room, Lores Theras leaned against a wall covered floor to ceiling with bookcases. Opposite Lores sat the King’s Councilor Zeyer at a table covered in messages and other correspondence for the king.
“You are saying this has been going on daily at arms practice?” King Haram hauled himself out of his chair too agitated to remain seated despite the illness that sapped more of his strength every day. “Why was I not informed immediately? It has been months!”
“Majesty, in the beginning we had hoped it would sort itself out,” Karl said as he stood at attention in front of the king’s desk. “Prince Kallum has attempted to deal with this on his own. He wishes to win them over without an order from the king.”
“Yet we cannot allow them to be constantly at one another’s throats like a pack of wolves. The dissension must stop. Kallum should not have to win over anyone.” Lores paced around the room. His lanky frame first hardened in battle and later with the back breaking work of a farmer radiated his irritation. “He has to concentrate on all he has missed over the last sixteen years.” He felt the burden of not being able to give Kallum all he had needed while he had watched over the young prince and raised him as his own.
“It appears as if the anger and aggression continues to build as Kallum and his friends outpace the other nobles. The lack of organized training for the last sixteen years has not held him back Lores,” Bedwin stated. He explained to them how the five boys had held off a larger number of attackers.
“Think you he has the right of it?” Zeyer looked between Bedwin and Karl. These two men had a better grasp on the minds of the fighting men. “He will one day have to rule over these boys. Will interference from the king make that any easier? Should not the boy find his own path?”
“It is why I have not brought this to you before. I had hoped the King’s Guard would be a reminder to them of who Kallum is. Some of the boys are unsure who to follow. A reminder that Kallum does fight his own battles despite having the Guard at his command might help sway them,” Karl said.
“So we shall allow the boys to attack one another in the yard until Derric relents?” Haram demanded slamming his fist onto his desk and then leaning heavily onto it in order to keep his balance. “My son should not have to deal with this. It is too complicated. We should never have done this.”
Zeyer moved to the king’s side and laid a hand on his shoulder. “It is too late to look back with regrets. All that was done is the past, now is the time to look to the problems of the future,” he said gently and helped the king back into his chair.
Each man nodded or grunted in agreement, but all were thinking back to that time sixteen years in the past and wondering had there been a better way to deal with the threat against the heir.
“I knew we should never have lied about yer wound,” Talon muttered to Kallum as he walked behind him with Chance on their way to their rooms following the afternoon lessons.
At a glance, the three young men looked like any other nobles that walked the palace halls. They were three tall boys. Talon and Chance both had long, lanky frames of nearly seventeen hands, while Kallum had the wide, heavily muscled frame of his father standing nearer to nineteen hands. Fine clothes had replaced the plain homespun that they had worn in Evansfield. Shiny leather boots replaced the plain shoes upon their feet. But fine trappings did not change that these three had a much different upbringing from the rest of the young nobles they were now forced to deal with.
“What matters now, Talon? Bedwin knows,” Chance said as he strolled into Kallum’s room and dropped into one of the chairs before the fire. A casual flick tossed his jacket over the chair opposite him. “Derric will finally get what he deserves.” He stacked his hands behind his head and tipped the chair back on two legs feeling smug imaging Derric’s punishment.
“Nay, he will not,” Kallum said flatly as he sat down on the edge of his bed. He leaned forward resting his elbows on his thighs and ran his hands through his short, dark brown hair. “I sent Walis to Zeyer and Captain Karl to make sure my father, Bedwin and the king stay out of this. Derric may never follow me, but I still may be able to sway a few of his supporters.”
“Sera Kal, why not just have him sent away or thrown in the dungeon!” Chance threw up his hands in exasperation. “You are a prince after all!”
Kallum stared into his friend’s deep brown eyes filled with confusion, “That is exactly why they should stay out of it, Chance. My being a prince means nothing to them.” He left his bed and moved to the table where he poured himself a glass of mead. “It is time we started winning more support.”
“But at what cost, Kal? Sera’s Blessing, must ye be crossing swords with Derric daily until the mutton-headed fool comes to his senses?” Talon asked from where he leaned back beside the door, one booted foot propped against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. “Methinks it grows old to fight for our very lives in practice.”
Kallum understood his friends’ frustration, but deep within he knew that while it was not an easy path he chose; it was the proper one to earn him the respect he would need one day to rule these same men. He remained silent and stared down into his cup as if the words he needed to make himself understand might be hidden in its depths.
“Those nobles need not ever like me, but they will learn to respect me,” Kallum stated softly and his jaw firmed making the still healing scar stand out upon his face. “We gain new friends as well.” He glanced up to meet both Chance and Talon’s eyes.
Smiles split both their faces as they remembered the whirling, hacking devil that had leapt to their side in the form of a common soldier’s son. “He surely can swing a sword,” Chance chuckled. “A commoner or not, I’d not want him angry at me.”
Talon launched himself away from the wall and stalked to the middle of the floor to lean over the table where Kallum stood. He too had sworn to support his friend and guard his back in this adventure, but he was not enjoying the odds on the practice field.
“One commoner will not get Derric Sedgwick off yer back. Methinks it will set him off even more. There must be a way for ye to take down that oaf a peg or two and learn him his place,” Talon hung his sandy blonde head and sighed. He sank into one of the chairs surrounding the table and resigned himself to a daily battle to the death at arms practice.
The three boys sat around in silence all lost in their own thoughts with only the sounds of the crackling fire to measure the passage of time. Deep within the private rooms of the crown prince, even the constant bustle of the busy Ahzyr Palace was muted. Kallum was determined to figure out the best way to handle Derric and yet gain the respect, if not the friendship, of some of the other nobles. When the idea began to form in his mind, he wasn’t sure that it would actually work, but regardless he knew that it would continue to enhance his training.
He swung his booted feet off the table and dropped the front legs of the chair he rested in back onto the floor. His sudden movement brought the other two back from their own musings, as they watched Kallum pace across the room. Despite the curiosity that was sizzling in the air from both Chance and Talon, they remained quiet and simply followed Kallum’s pacing knowing that once he had worked out whatever was on his mind that he would share it with them.
“Methinks it might be time for a little extra practice. Sword work is fine but there are many weapons for us to explore and master. The more knowledge, the more power we gain,” Kallum stopped in the middle of the room and made his announcement.
“Think ye could get us some knife work?” Chance sat on the edge of his seat bristling with excitement. “Ye know I have a fondness for them.”
“Aye and methinks I would enjoy honing my skills with a bow,” Talon agreed. The idea of additional skills sounded more like the kind of challenge that Talon had expected when coming to Livingston.
The rest of the planning was interrupted when Walis arrived leading the servants with the evening meal. Kallum’s squire oversaw the setting of the table and the serving of the food to the three until the final servant had departed. When Kallum had first returned to the palace, King Haram had insisted he eat in the main hall with the rest of the nobles. Kallum eventually convinced the king that he was not comfortable eating with an audience had been allowed to take his meals in his rooms. Once they were all alone, Walis joined them at the table. Kallum had insisted from the beginning that in private Walis was to treat him as a friend and not the crown prince. He had wanted at least this sanctuary from the outside world.
“Did you speak to Zeyer and Captain Karl?” Kallum asked as he poured more water into his cup.
“Aye, they were not pleased to hear ye wished nothing at all done to Derric, but they said it would be as ye wished,” Walis nodded and looked up at Kallum his hazel eyes filled with worry. “Think ye it really wise to just let Derric get away with his actions?”
Kallum explained his reasoning to his squire and then outlined the plan to increase their arms lessons. “I wish you and Jason Militis to join us,” he added while tearing off a piece of bread to dip into his stew.
Walis nearly choked on his mouthful of food, “Join ye? Me and Jason, we are not noble born. It would not be right,” he stammered.
“We are not of noble birth either,” Talon said with a nod of his head at Chance. “We are allowed to train with Kallum. I think his squire and anyone of his choosing should be allowed to train with him as well.”
“Sera, ye do not think it would only make more trouble with Derric?” Walis looked concerned.
“Fear not, Walis, soon Derric will be put in his place. One way or another,” Kallum said firmly before turning back to his meal.
The sun just peeked over the horizon spilling its light across the plains and sparkled off the blue waters of the lake as the ring of swords echoed through the courtyard. A fine mist still hung in the shadows of the palace walls not yet chased away by the sun’s rays.
“Do not allow yer guard to drop!” A voice cut across the clash and clang of metal in the practice yard. Dozens of boys were paired off and scattered about the yard worn to dirt from the hundreds of feet over the decades. “Watch yer shields! If ye let the enemy that close and drop yer guard yer’ll be skewered.”
A man moved among the youths with a lazy stride, but his eyes sized up each pair as he passed, pausing only to shout instructions and point out weaknesses. Kallum Syer Theras watched the man’s approach with a wary eye and ignored the drag on his arm from another blow to his shield. His sword arm was numb from the hours of sparring, and yet still he circled with his partner. Sweat matted his hair across his forehead, turning it an even darker shade of brown, and he spared a brief moment to swipe the bangs from his eyes.
“Watch yer shield, Prince. Keep holding it there and ye’ll take a blade to yer neck!” The man bellowed before moving on to the next set of sparring boys. Kallum ignored his instructor as he moved away and side stepped to keep his sparring partner in front of him and turned his body to present as small a target as possible.
As another blow hurtled toward his head, Kallum raised his shield and staggered off balance as the force radiated through his already tired, aching body. His opponent’s dark eyes lit up as he noted the opening, and he pressed forward with another thrust Kallum managed to catch on his shield.
“Yield to me!” The boy hissed through gritted teeth as the two stood toe-to-toe. They were equally matched in height despite the two-year age difference. Their wide shoulders strained and their feet dug into the earth beneath them as they each tried to force the other to back down. “You cannot best me!”
This was nothing new for Kallum, since his arrival in Livingston, Vlandamyuirian’s capital city; he had learned to hone his defenses. Parrying the next blow with his sword, he circled to the left again and watched his opponent for a clue to his next move, his own icy blue eyes sparkling with anticipation as he set his feet and kept his mind clear to plan his next move.
“Come, Prince, surely you know defeat when you see it. I have beaten you. I am better than you!” The boy sneered and his face twisted into a grimace. A broad forehead tapered to a long, narrow nose and his lips were a thin, grim line. It was not a handsome face at the best of times, full of anger, frustration and hate, he looked harsh and cruel. Backing away slightly, Derric Sedgwick rotated his right shoulder attempting to loosen the cramping muscles.
Blocking out Derric’s voice, Kallum had learned his lessons well and would not let the taunts goad him into an attack as they had in the past. He kept his features smooth, allowed none of the emotions running through him show on his face to give him away. His eyes tracked his opponent, his firm jaw remained set and he jutted out his chiseled chin with determination. The young noble’s insults meant little, and Kallum knew if he responded it only evoked more aggression from his tormentor. He understood his very existence had been a shock to all those within Livingston. King’s Guard Captain Bedwin’s arrival with Kallum and the former King’s Guard Captain Lores Theras had brought a dead prince back to life.
A crown prince thought to have been killed at birth; Kallum’s arrival had quashed a squabble over the rights of succession, but unleashed a whole new upheaval within the Vlandamyuirian Kingdom. There were nobles who had arranged marriages and bought titles for years to gather the necessary power for a chance to gain the high king’s throne. These nobles were not convinced a resurrected crown prince settled those rights of succession, no matter what the king decreed.
Kallum was raised in the countryside far from the intrigue and politics of the royal court. He was still looked upon as a peasant, no matter what blood flowed in his veins; or how many people proclaimed him the spitting image of the young Haram Syer, who had claimed the throne so many years before. Thrust among the peers of the realm, the king expected Kallum would be treated as the future ruler, but few did. The slights, slurs and insults hurled his way often cut more brutally than any blow from a practice weapon. His only recourse was to learn to shut out such taunts and speak with his sword.
But while Kallum was more adept at handling the insults, his boyhood companions, who traveled with him from Evansfield, were not yet ready to overlook insults to their friend. Nearby, Chance Lering heard the taunts and decided to come to his friend’s aid. He dispatched his opponent with a maneuver learned from a barroom brawl and slammed into Kallum’s opponent. He then took up a support position to Kallum’s left.
“Chance, Keep away! I can deal with this!” Kallum shouted and threw his friend an angry glance before he turned back to prepare for Derric’s renewed attack. “I know you only seek to help, but this is my fight.”
“Sera, Kal. I heard what that pile of dung said. I’ll not stand by and have ye insulted! I promised to fight by yer side and that’s just what I’ll do!” Chance tossed his head to clear the black, sweat soaked hair from eyes that sparkled with pleasure and mischief.
They stood shoulder to shoulder and watched their sparring partners move toward them. Kallum and Chance attacked together and pushed beyond their opponents. They stumbled in amongst the other pairs and brought the practice to a halt.
“I knew you were a coward, peasant. Cannot fight your own battles, you need your peasant companions to come to your aid in a simple sparring match. How do you think to rule a kingdom?” He taunted. As the Earl of Plontimyuir’s son and the ring leader of the young nobles, Derric Sedgwick developed an instant dislike for the newcomers. “Can you not fight alone?”
A few boys giggled, and most already chose sides in the familiar practice yard brawl. Three shadows slipped out of the crowd and took up positions at Kallum’s side as the other young nobles spread out to surround the crown prince and his supporters.
“I see today will be no exception.” Talon Nedar called over his shoulder to Kallum from his position on the right as he parried blows from the first noble leading the charge. Beside him a newcomer to the group, Jason Militis said nothing but threw himself into the fray his sword flashed in the morning sunlight.
“Aye, Talon. It is the usual trouble.” Chance tossed back with a smile. He quickly learned to enjoy a good brawl from his constant forays into brothels and taverns in the city. Of all the boys, Chance dreamed of escaping the dull life of a farmer and exploring the big cities in the legend and stories.
“Only Chance could be so happy in the midst of a brawl,” Walis Ater, Kallum’s squire muttered as he fought off another set of blows from several of the boys who danced in the circle around them.
“It is his element,” Kallum grunted. He hooked his right leg around the left of one boy he faced and dropped him to the ground in time to avoid the attack from a second boy who jumped in from the left.
Instructor Jarrel knew there was little he could do to stop the brawl. It was a daily occurrence and the instructor was tired of it. While the noble houses continued to battle with the king over Kallum’s right to succeed him on the throne, the practice yards continued to dissolve into political squabbles.
Leaving the mob behind, Jarrel hurried into the office of Knight Captain Karl Perrin, “They are at it again, Captain.”
With a sigh, Karl rose from his desk and revealed a body honed on the battlefield, not yet softened by his newly acquired desk assignment. Long legs carried him around the desk where he grabbed his sword. Jarrel trailed behind him out the door. “It is time these boys learned a lesson. Call the Guard and tell them Prince Kallum needs assistance.” He strode down the hall toward the noise of the brawl. “These lads shall see what it means to draw steel on royalty.”
As Karl arrived at the practice field, Kallum and his companions chased back most of the boys. They ringed the crown prince and cheered on Derric and a few of the older boys that continued to press the fight. None of them noticed the arrival of Karl or the Kings Guard.
“What goes here, Captain?” Bedwin Rothal demanded as his keen gaze surveyed the melee on the practice yard.
“It is becoming too much of a habit for practice to end up like this,” Karl said as he motioned to the swirling ring of fighters. “Derric and the other nobles continue to gang up on Prince Kallum and his friends. Jarrel has been unable to finish a single lesson.”
In the midst of the brawl, Derric noticed the dwindling support and attempted to rally more to his cause, “Are you all going to allow a weak prince to beat you? Shall you simply bow down to his rule? Will you not seek to find a true leader?”
Derric’s words encouraged a few back into the battle, and Bedwin decided he had seen and heard enough. He pushed through the boys cutting a path straight toward Kallum. As the other noble youths recognized the King’s Guard captain, they fell back and dropped their weapons to their sides. Derric thought he had finally won them over the crowd until his next blow directed at Kallum fell on a new sword.
Whirling to see who had dared to interfere, Derric was shocked to look up into the hard, battle-worn face of King’s Guard Captain Bedwin. “Wh-what are you doing here, Sir Guard?” Derric stammered out and staggered back a step.
Bedwin sheathed his sword and looked out over the group taking note of the faces that stood with Derric and those with Kallum, “I was summoned to protect the crown prince. What goes here?” he asked with hands splayed on his narrow hips.
“Was simply a sparring session, Sir Guard. The Prince and I were paired today and I was suddenly attacked by one of those lowly peasant boys. I sought only to defend myself,” Derric answered, but kept his eyes lowered to keep Bedwin from seeing his anger and contempt.
“Looked more like an armed revolt against the prince lead by you, Derric,” Karl said as he tapped the sword Derric still gripped tightly in his hand. “Is that not so?”
“Nay, t'was only sparring,” Derric raised his eyes and glared at Captain Karl. “It is no fault of mine if my friends came to my aid as I was overwhelmed by them.”
“Is that how it happened? Did one of you join in with Prince Kallum against Derric?” Bedwin looked over Kallum and the boys spread out at his side.
Chance stepped forward, “Aye, I did join Kal to protect him from Derric. Methinks he’s turned one cheek already. He should not have to turn yet another,” Chance pointed out the slowly fading line that ran from Kallum’s left ear along his jaw disappearing under his chin.
Early in the boys training, Derric got a shot at Kallum when Jarrel was distracted by another group of boys. Kallum had sworn the group to secrecy as to how he had been injured; he now stepped forward himself grabbing Chance’s arm, “Hold your tongue, Chance,” he pushed him back into line with the others.
“Wait!” Bedwin looked between the boys standing before him. His eyes met each boy’s in turn assessing their reactions. “Did Derric give you that wound?” he asked.
Kallum gave Chance a dark look. Chance shrugged his narrow shoulders in return as he casually caressed the hilt of his practice sword. He never thought it a good idea for Kallum to keep quiet about Derric’s actions, and he knew his friend would forgive him for spilling the secret. Knowing Bedwin awaited an answer, Kallum turned back to face the King’s Guard captain.
“Aye, Sir Guard, Derric marked me on our first day as a reminder to never best him at practice again. I disarmed him and he pulled a dagger from his boot. He slashed my face. So I would see it every day and remember.” Kallum folded his arms across his chest. “It is why Captain Karl disallowed all weapons but practice swords in the yard.”
“You knew of this incident, Captain?” Bedwin looked back at Karl in surprise. This was much more than boys who squabbled for dominance in the practice yard, and was something that should have been brought to the attention of the king, the Guard and the King’s Councilor Zeyer Radorm.
“Aye, of a dagger being used on the practice yard,” Captain Karl looked just as startled with Kallum’s revelation. “Not who had held it or why.” He looked at Derric where he stood seething in anger.
“Nay, sir Guard! He lies. It was not—” Derric stammered out a rebuttal, but Bedwin cut him off with a sharp gesture.
“Enough!” Without another word, Bedwin sent them off to their tutors calling an end to the morning’s practice.
When the last of the boys had left the yard, he sent the Guard back to their duties and motioned to Captain Karl to follow him to the palace. It appeared time to inform King Haram, Lores and Zeyer of the happenings amongst the young nobles.
In the king’s study, Bedwin and Karl explained what had been going on in the practice sessions since Kallum’s return to Livingston. King Haram sat quietly behind the large oak desk arranged before two large leaded windows that gave a view of the main courtyard of Ahzyr Palace, the main gate and Regillius Lake in the distance. Around the room, Lores Theras leaned against a wall covered floor to ceiling with bookcases. Opposite Lores sat the King’s Councilor Zeyer at a table covered in messages and other correspondence for the king.
“You are saying this has been going on daily at arms practice?” King Haram hauled himself out of his chair too agitated to remain seated despite the illness that sapped more of his strength every day. “Why was I not informed immediately? It has been months!”
“Majesty, in the beginning we had hoped it would sort itself out,” Karl said as he stood at attention in front of the king’s desk. “Prince Kallum has attempted to deal with this on his own. He wishes to win them over without an order from the king.”
“Yet we cannot allow them to be constantly at one another’s throats like a pack of wolves. The dissension must stop. Kallum should not have to win over anyone.” Lores paced around the room. His lanky frame first hardened in battle and later with the back breaking work of a farmer radiated his irritation. “He has to concentrate on all he has missed over the last sixteen years.” He felt the burden of not being able to give Kallum all he had needed while he had watched over the young prince and raised him as his own.
“It appears as if the anger and aggression continues to build as Kallum and his friends outpace the other nobles. The lack of organized training for the last sixteen years has not held him back Lores,” Bedwin stated. He explained to them how the five boys had held off a larger number of attackers.
“Think you he has the right of it?” Zeyer looked between Bedwin and Karl. These two men had a better grasp on the minds of the fighting men. “He will one day have to rule over these boys. Will interference from the king make that any easier? Should not the boy find his own path?”
“It is why I have not brought this to you before. I had hoped the King’s Guard would be a reminder to them of who Kallum is. Some of the boys are unsure who to follow. A reminder that Kallum does fight his own battles despite having the Guard at his command might help sway them,” Karl said.
“So we shall allow the boys to attack one another in the yard until Derric relents?” Haram demanded slamming his fist onto his desk and then leaning heavily onto it in order to keep his balance. “My son should not have to deal with this. It is too complicated. We should never have done this.”
Zeyer moved to the king’s side and laid a hand on his shoulder. “It is too late to look back with regrets. All that was done is the past, now is the time to look to the problems of the future,” he said gently and helped the king back into his chair.
Each man nodded or grunted in agreement, but all were thinking back to that time sixteen years in the past and wondering had there been a better way to deal with the threat against the heir.
“I knew we should never have lied about yer wound,” Talon muttered to Kallum as he walked behind him with Chance on their way to their rooms following the afternoon lessons.
At a glance, the three young men looked like any other nobles that walked the palace halls. They were three tall boys. Talon and Chance both had long, lanky frames of nearly seventeen hands, while Kallum had the wide, heavily muscled frame of his father standing nearer to nineteen hands. Fine clothes had replaced the plain homespun that they had worn in Evansfield. Shiny leather boots replaced the plain shoes upon their feet. But fine trappings did not change that these three had a much different upbringing from the rest of the young nobles they were now forced to deal with.
“What matters now, Talon? Bedwin knows,” Chance said as he strolled into Kallum’s room and dropped into one of the chairs before the fire. A casual flick tossed his jacket over the chair opposite him. “Derric will finally get what he deserves.” He stacked his hands behind his head and tipped the chair back on two legs feeling smug imaging Derric’s punishment.
“Nay, he will not,” Kallum said flatly as he sat down on the edge of his bed. He leaned forward resting his elbows on his thighs and ran his hands through his short, dark brown hair. “I sent Walis to Zeyer and Captain Karl to make sure my father, Bedwin and the king stay out of this. Derric may never follow me, but I still may be able to sway a few of his supporters.”
“Sera Kal, why not just have him sent away or thrown in the dungeon!” Chance threw up his hands in exasperation. “You are a prince after all!”
Kallum stared into his friend’s deep brown eyes filled with confusion, “That is exactly why they should stay out of it, Chance. My being a prince means nothing to them.” He left his bed and moved to the table where he poured himself a glass of mead. “It is time we started winning more support.”
“But at what cost, Kal? Sera’s Blessing, must ye be crossing swords with Derric daily until the mutton-headed fool comes to his senses?” Talon asked from where he leaned back beside the door, one booted foot propped against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. “Methinks it grows old to fight for our very lives in practice.”
Kallum understood his friends’ frustration, but deep within he knew that while it was not an easy path he chose; it was the proper one to earn him the respect he would need one day to rule these same men. He remained silent and stared down into his cup as if the words he needed to make himself understand might be hidden in its depths.
“Those nobles need not ever like me, but they will learn to respect me,” Kallum stated softly and his jaw firmed making the still healing scar stand out upon his face. “We gain new friends as well.” He glanced up to meet both Chance and Talon’s eyes.
Smiles split both their faces as they remembered the whirling, hacking devil that had leapt to their side in the form of a common soldier’s son. “He surely can swing a sword,” Chance chuckled. “A commoner or not, I’d not want him angry at me.”
Talon launched himself away from the wall and stalked to the middle of the floor to lean over the table where Kallum stood. He too had sworn to support his friend and guard his back in this adventure, but he was not enjoying the odds on the practice field.
“One commoner will not get Derric Sedgwick off yer back. Methinks it will set him off even more. There must be a way for ye to take down that oaf a peg or two and learn him his place,” Talon hung his sandy blonde head and sighed. He sank into one of the chairs surrounding the table and resigned himself to a daily battle to the death at arms practice.
The three boys sat around in silence all lost in their own thoughts with only the sounds of the crackling fire to measure the passage of time. Deep within the private rooms of the crown prince, even the constant bustle of the busy Ahzyr Palace was muted. Kallum was determined to figure out the best way to handle Derric and yet gain the respect, if not the friendship, of some of the other nobles. When the idea began to form in his mind, he wasn’t sure that it would actually work, but regardless he knew that it would continue to enhance his training.
He swung his booted feet off the table and dropped the front legs of the chair he rested in back onto the floor. His sudden movement brought the other two back from their own musings, as they watched Kallum pace across the room. Despite the curiosity that was sizzling in the air from both Chance and Talon, they remained quiet and simply followed Kallum’s pacing knowing that once he had worked out whatever was on his mind that he would share it with them.
“Methinks it might be time for a little extra practice. Sword work is fine but there are many weapons for us to explore and master. The more knowledge, the more power we gain,” Kallum stopped in the middle of the room and made his announcement.
“Think ye could get us some knife work?” Chance sat on the edge of his seat bristling with excitement. “Ye know I have a fondness for them.”
“Aye and methinks I would enjoy honing my skills with a bow,” Talon agreed. The idea of additional skills sounded more like the kind of challenge that Talon had expected when coming to Livingston.
The rest of the planning was interrupted when Walis arrived leading the servants with the evening meal. Kallum’s squire oversaw the setting of the table and the serving of the food to the three until the final servant had departed. When Kallum had first returned to the palace, King Haram had insisted he eat in the main hall with the rest of the nobles. Kallum eventually convinced the king that he was not comfortable eating with an audience had been allowed to take his meals in his rooms. Once they were all alone, Walis joined them at the table. Kallum had insisted from the beginning that in private Walis was to treat him as a friend and not the crown prince. He had wanted at least this sanctuary from the outside world.
“Did you speak to Zeyer and Captain Karl?” Kallum asked as he poured more water into his cup.
“Aye, they were not pleased to hear ye wished nothing at all done to Derric, but they said it would be as ye wished,” Walis nodded and looked up at Kallum his hazel eyes filled with worry. “Think ye it really wise to just let Derric get away with his actions?”
Kallum explained his reasoning to his squire and then outlined the plan to increase their arms lessons. “I wish you and Jason Militis to join us,” he added while tearing off a piece of bread to dip into his stew.
Walis nearly choked on his mouthful of food, “Join ye? Me and Jason, we are not noble born. It would not be right,” he stammered.
“We are not of noble birth either,” Talon said with a nod of his head at Chance. “We are allowed to train with Kallum. I think his squire and anyone of his choosing should be allowed to train with him as well.”
“Sera, ye do not think it would only make more trouble with Derric?” Walis looked concerned.
“Fear not, Walis, soon Derric will be put in his place. One way or another,” Kallum said firmly before turning back to his meal.
