Relam ground his teeth in frustration. “I don’t need more guards, commander,” he said, adding emphasis to the man’s title.
Eckle merely smiled again. “I’ll send a list of names over in the morning,” he announced. “And await your choices tomorrow evening.”
Before Relam could retort angrily to this high-handed treatment, his father broke in. “Thank you Eckle. We’ll let you get back to your duties now.”
“Of course, your majesty. Good evening.” Eckle bowed and backed out of the room, closing the door noiselessly behind him.
Relam turned and glared at his father. “What possessed you to make him the new commander?” he demanded, pointing at the closed door with a shaking finger.
“He’s efficient,” the king replied. “And respectful and capable.”
“Respectful?” Relam asked incredulously. “Did you not hear a word the man spoke when he was in here?”
“He respects me.”
Relam shook his head in disbelief. “And what’s this nonsense about more guards?”
His father looked up at him unapologetically. “That was my idea. I will not lose you the same way I lost your mother, son. I placed my trust in the wrong person before. I will not make the same mistake again.”
“And how do you know that Eckle is not the same mistake, part two?” Relam said furiously.
“Enough,” the king said firmly. “He is the commander and I trust him to do his job. You will cooperate with him, because I command it. Understood?”
“You command it?” Relam said in disbelief.
His father glared at him.
“Understood, your majesty,” Relam finally replied, bowing stiffly.
“Good,” the king said, rising to his feet. “I’ll be back later.”
“Where are you going?” Relam demanded, trying to block his father’s path.
But his father simply stepped around him and marched through the door, without a backwards glance.
Relam kicked the nearest chair in frustration, scowling at the floor. Eckle’s treatment of him still rankled, but Relam was more worried about his father. What was he keeping so busy with? Had sitting on the throne and brooding for hours on end become the end all and be all of his life?
The prince sank into one of the chairs and put his head in his hands. “What do I do?” he moaned. “How can I fix this?”
Not surprisingly, no answer was forthcoming from the empty room.
A few minutes later, Relam was startled back to reality by a knock at the door. “That’ll be Eckle,” Relam muttered darkly. “Back with his list of candidates no doubt.”
The prince got up from his seat swiftly, already working out what he would say. He’d tell Eckle exactly where to put his list of candidates, then drive him off as fast as he could. If his father wouldn’t rescind his order to make Eckle commander, maybe Relam could be disagreeable enough to make the man quit.
Relam threw open the door to the royal suite, already drawing breath to tell off the new commander of the palace guards. But it was not Eckle who stood waiting in the hallway. It was an equally unwelcome visitor, Master Bene D’Arnlo of the Citadel.
“Master D’Arnlo,” Relam said, nodding stiffly. “Good evening.”
“Good evening, your highness,” D’Arnlo replied, bowing. “May I come in?” he said pointedly.
Relam stood aside, holding the door open a little wider. D’Arnlo stepped over the threshold and into the main room. The young prince surreptitiously signaled two of the guards outside to enter as well, then shut the door again, throwing the bolt home.
“Being extra cautious?” D’Arnlo observed mildly, nodding at the two guards.
“It’s standard procedure for guards to be present when we have visitors now,” Relam replied coldly. “Please, have a seat.”
“Thank you, your highness,” D’Arnlo replied, smiling as he sank into one of the chairs. Relam took a chair across the low table from D’Arnlo, one of his guards moving to hover behind him. The other stayed by the door, standing opposite the hinges so that he would not be trapped between the door and the wall if it opened suddenly.
“First of all,” D’Arnlo began. “My deepest condolences on the loss of your mother. She was a rare woman and an excellent queen. I imagine she was an even better parent.”
“Thank you,” Relam said, inclining his head slightly.
“I know that you are probably still grieving,” D’Arnlo continued. “But the world moves ever forward, whether we want it to or not. Whether we are ready for it to or not. Next week, my first-year students start training.”
“Wish them well for me,” Relam said wryly.
“Oh?” D’Arnlo said, surprised. “I had hoped that you might join us, your highness. I am here to formally offer you a place in my class.”
Relam blinked, dumbfounded. In hindsight, he probably should have expected this. No doubt Tar and Oreius had ‘forgotten’ to tell D’Arnlo that Relam already had found a master, had already started training in fact.
“I’m honored,” Relam replied at last, struggling to get the second word out. “But I am afraid I must decline your offer, Master D’Arnlo.”
“I beg your pardon?” D’Arnlo said quickly, leaning forward and scrutinizing Relam’s face for any clue as to why he was resisting training. “You do realize that I have offered to train you at the Citadel, the finest military institution in the world, and develop you into a master swordsman in your own right?”
“I do,” Relam confirmed. “That’s usually how training at this stage goes is it not? The truth is,” Relam continued quickly, not giving D’Arnlo a chance to respond. “I have already committed to learning from another master.”
“That is unfortunate,” D’Arnlo said, spitting the words out. “Because I am the very best of the sword masters in Etares. Anywhere else, with anyone else, you are only wasting your time, your highness.”
“Tar seemed like an excellent teacher,” the prince replied, raising an eyebrow.
