Relam marched out into the courtyard, an expanse of short, bright green turf surrounded by one-story walls on all sides. No windows overlooked the courtyard and no flowers bloomed along its borders. This courtyard was for weapons practice, and weapons practice only. One corner of the courtyard served as an open-air armory for training. A wooden roof extended over a triangle of stone, sheltering the area from weather. Within, archery targets were neatly stacked with quivers hanging from pegs above them and all manner of wooden practice weapons were leaned against the walls. Relam left the practice weapons where they lay. Since he was not sparring today, he would use his own sword.
The field was not large, only ten meters by thirty, but more than suitable for a single prince practicing his swordsmanship. Relam drew his blade and held it vertically in front of him, taking a deep breath. Then, he flowed into the first series of strokes Tar Agath had taught him. The blade flashed in the weak morning light, cleaving air effortlessly.
Relam finished the first pattern and started it again, speeding up the strokes this time. Then, he moved into the second pattern and the third. Each was performed flawlessly, as easily and effortlessly as when he did them with a practice sword. It was just like being at Tar Agath’s facility, except without the audience of other lordlings.
After the fourth pattern, Relam lowered his blade and turned around, headed for the small lean-to in the corner. There was a rain barrel standing against one of the supports, and the water inside would be cool and fresh.
Relam sheathed his sword and picked up a cup, pulling the lid off of the rain barrel with his free hand. Filling his cup, he drank deeply, then stood there for a moment, sipping slowly. He knew the importance of staying hydrated, and though it was still early and the day was mild, he was taking no chances. He had seen plenty of trainees collapse from heat exhaustion during the course of his training.
As Relam refilled his cup, he heard the doors to the courtyard open and close. He turned quickly, his right hand dropping to the hilt of his sword. Then, he recognized Aven and relaxed, grinning at the younger boy.
“You got my message?”
Aven nodded, holding up the prince’s practice gear. “The guards told me you’d be here.”
Relam nodded. “I need to stay sharp to impress Master Agath.”
“I doubt the other trainees are working today,” Aven pointed out, setting the padded gear down amidst the practice weapons in the shed.
“You’re probably right,” Relam agreed. “But I don’t make decisions based on what everyone else is doing. Certainly not on what Sebast-”
He broke off and shook his head. It would not do for word to get out that he and the other lordlings were on such bad terms. Princes had to be above that sort of thing.
“Anything else you need from me?” Aven asked tentatively, breaking the silence.
“Not right now,” Relam replied, picking up his cup again. “I’m just going to keep on working by myself.”
“I might as well watch,” Aven decided. “I have nothing else to do at the moment.”
Relam nodded and drained the last of his water. As he set the cup down, his eyes passed over the archery targets and quivers leaning against the back wall. Curious, the young prince stepped closer, peering into the jumble of weapons.
“Looking for something?” Aven asked, hopping up on a low table, his legs dangling in front of him.
“No,” Relam replied as he pushed the targets aside and unearthed what he was looking for. “Found something.” He scooped up the unstrung bow and continued looking. Surely there would be a bowstring lying around somewhere. He continued searching, shoving targets, wooden axes, and other equipment out of the way.
“What did you find?” Relam heard Aven’s feet hit the ground as he jumped down from the table, trying to see what Relam was doing.
Relam continued searching, then finally found the last thing he needed in a sealed wooden box. Smiling, the young prince turned and held his findings out for inspection.
“What do you think?”
Aven stepped forward, eyes fixed on the bow and bowstring in Relam’s hands. “That doesn’t look like a normal bow,” he observed, running a hand over the smooth wood.
Relam nodded. “Yes, this one’s a recurve rather than a longbow. Better for our purposes, actually. Master Agath says these give you the best power for a smaller build. When I was younger he trained me to use the bow, before I was big enough to begin learning swordsmanship.”
“What do you mean when you say ‘our purposes’?” Aven asked suspiciously.
Relam handed him the bow. “If you’re going to get into the guard, best to know which end of an arrow is which. Grab a quiver.”
Aven took the bow, looking at it with wide eyes, then almost reverently pulled a quiver down from where it hung on the wall. He ran a finger along the fletching of an arrow, smiling slightly.
The young prince meanwhile picked up one of the targets, grunting in surprise at its weight. The target was solid wood, with rings carved in the surface and filled in with black paint. It was also nearly a meter wide, a heavy and awkward burden.
