Relam said nothing. He had never heard the story of the Orell War told quite this way before. All the tales agreed that the Orell were a noble and proud race, but they never mentioned how wrong the Sthan Kingdom had been. Probably, Relam reflected, because Sthan bards had composed the stories and sagas and written the praises of the heroes.
“When I returned to Etares,” Oreius continued. “I was made a national hero for my service. A great honor.” The old man laughed bitterly. “But I knew better. I was nothing more than a butcher. I withdrew from the army and retired. That was when I found this place. A place of peace and beauty and simplicity. A place where I could forget what had happened.”
“If you wanted to get away from it all-?”
“-why did I stay in the capital?” Oreius guessed, smiling ruefully. “Because I was stuck here. Once I found this place of . . . tranquility, I didn’t want to let it go. I was torn between wanting to leave and go where no one could find me, like a mountain lodge or maybe an island in the southern sea, or staying here. I kept a low profile for several months, and people largely forgot about me. A few years later, I began quietly taking a few students to earn some money, students that I felt could go on to make a real positive difference in this world.”
“You’re not just talking about training a warrior,” Relam observed. “You wanted to pass on what you had seen and learned. Your mistakes.”
Oreius nodded. “Yes. Eventually, I gave up because I couldn’t see that any of it was helping. My students were doing great things, commanding the city guard, the palace guard, being battle commanders on ships in the royal navy. But it didn’t seem to be enough. The real turning point was the war ten years ago, against the Vertaga. That was when I really gave up hope of changing the world. War and bloodshed and violence would tear lives apart, whatever I did.”
“Then why train me?” Relam asked. “To keep me from becoming my grandfather?”
“Not at all,” Oreius replied. “No, I train you because for the first time I see someone with not only the heart and the skill to make a difference, but also the position. The birthright. The power and prestige necessary to run a kingdom. The wits and heart to do it justly, and with due consideration for the people under your wise rule.”
“You’re putting an awful lot of faith in someone who isn’t even officially a crown prince,” Relam observed.
“It will happen before your training ends,” Oreius said, shrugging. “And I believe that you can change the way our kingdom sees the world. Teach them to value peace, not war. Teach them to value charity, not greed. Teach them to value not power, but resilience.”
Relam nodded. “I hope that I can,” he murmured. “This place here . . . it’s all of those combined. I can see why you couldn’t leave.”
“And I never will,” Oreius said firmly. “Not until my time comes and I leave this world for good.”
Relam looked up at the sky and was surprised to find that it was only an hour or so until the day would be over. Oreius noticed his glance and looked up, gauging the time as well.
“We may as well call it a day,” he decided, setting his mug down. “You learned more important lessons from us talking than I could ever teach you with a sword. Tomorrow, come back ready to get back to work.”
“I will,” Relam promised. “Oreius, thank you for telling me all of this.”
“It’s my duty as a teacher,” the old man said with a wry grin. “I have to make sure that you will not repeat the mistakes I made in my youth.”
The old warrior turned and began walking slowly back to the house, effectively dismissing Relam. The prince hesitated, thought about returning to the palace, then went instead to the stone bench and sat on it, closing his eyes.
When his guards arrived an hour later, they found the prince still sitting there, eyes closed, legs drawn up underneath him. They went to turn away, but Relam stopped them.
“Don’t go.”
The guards turned back, a little embarrassed. “Sorry to disturb you, sir,” he heard Eric say. “But it’s time we were getting back to the palace.”
Relam nodded and got to his feet, smiling. “Yes, it is. Thank you for fetching me.”
“What were you doing there on the bench?” Johann asked curiously, looking around the garden.
“Learning,” Relam replied. Then, without any other explanation, he led the way back to the palace.
Chapter 32
They had hardly left Oreius’ house, barely passed Tar Agath’s facility, before Relam was hailed by a young voice. He turned, seeking the source, and saw five young men leaving the Citadel, just emerging from the front gate. The lordlings, Jatt, Sebast, Delan, Knet, and Cevet. They were all wearing their swords and padded practice gear, leather helmets tucked under their arms.
“Well, look who it is,” Sebast drawled. “Good to see you, your highness.”
Relam’s guards stiffened, sensing the hostility from the lordling. “Go back to the palace,” Relam told them. “I’ll be along shortly.”
“Sir-”
“Go, Eric, and you, Johann. I won’t confront him with armed guards standing by ready to intimidate.”
“You could just not confront him,” Eric muttered rebelliously.
“Go,” Relam said calmly. “That’s an order.”
Johann shrugged. “I trust the prince,” he decided, wandering back towards the palace. “He’s been training with that old bear Oreius, he can handle himself.”
“Against five?” Eric protested.
“Not five,” Relam replied, eying Cevet. “Four. And I have an ally in their midst.”
Eric grunted. “Fine. But if you get
