Relam reached the royal suite roughly an hour after noon. The guards at the door informed him that his father was around the palace, bouncing from meeting to meeting. The prince thanked them, then checked in with his guards down the hall before retiring to his room.
The first thing Relam did upon his return was build a roaring fire in the fireplace in the main room, using up a significant amount of the wood in the basket beside the fireplace. He asked the guards to have a servant bring more up, then went back to his room and stripped off his practice clothes. He donned a dry long-sleeved shirt and thick pants and returned to the outer room, moving one of the armchairs close by the fire and propping his feet up on the hearth. The fire crackled and popped merrily, and the flames danced and writhed with warmth and joy.
Relam sat there for a long time, doing nothing and thinking less. The servant came and stacked more firewood quickly, bowing to Relam on the way out. The prince barely noticed though, somewhere between waking and sleeping. Over the course of the afternoon, he eventually drifted off, warm and dry and comfortable.
He was woken by the sound of the outer door opening. He sat up blearily, blinking and looked around in time to see his father enter. The fire had died down some, and was not even half as large as it had been before Relam dozed off.
“Shouldn’t you be training?” his father asked suspiciously, moving closer to the fire.
Relam shook his head. “Oreius let me off after lunch today with the weather being so bad.” He stood slowly and added more wood to the fire, building it back up for his father. “How was your day?”
“Long,” the king muttered. “The details of the hunt are all hammered out. Finally,” he added with a dark look. “Who knew something so simple and pleasant could be made so complicated by bickering guards.”
“They’re just trying to keep us both safe,” Relam pointed out. “It’s their job.”
“Yes, well, your Eric or whoever is a stubborn one,” the king muttered. “Insisted on tighter security on almost everything.”
“He’s very safety conscious,” Relam agreed. “Not a bad thing in a guard, but sometimes you have to beat him back a bit. He is intelligent though.”
“Extremely,” the king agreed. “And alert. He knew the weather was going to turn three days ago, told me himself.”
“He might have warned me,” Relam muttered, sitting back in his armchair again. “Anything else going on that I should know about?” he asked casually.
“No,” his father replied, drawing up his own chair. Relam tried to avoid letting out an obvious sigh of relief as he realized that his father hadn’t heard about Narin. “I don’t doubt that there will be problems again soon enough though. Winter always brings its share of trouble. Bandits move closer to cities for easier pickings, ice storms and snow storms disrupt work and trade, sink ships and ruin roads. And Mizzran is worried about avalanches on top of the miner’s revolt now.”
“Natural ones, or miner-made avalanches?” Relam asked curiously.
“Both,” the king replied heavily. “I wish there was a simple way to resolve that situation, but nobody has come up with one yet. Not me, or Clemon, or any of my other advisors. Not even the Assembly and they always have an opinion on everything!”
Relam raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Really? They have nothing?”
“Well,” the king admitted. “They do have an opinion. They believe I should have the perfect solution to the problem and they are happy to criticize it when I finally present it to them.”
The prince snorted. “Idiots,” he muttered. “I can see why you have no use for them.”
“It sometimes makes you wonder why the Council exists,” his father agreed. “Except to be a royal pain in the-”
He broke off as commander Eckle entered without knocking. “Sorry, your majesty,” he gasped. “But we have received a message bird from Lord Clemon. Apparently, he is being delayed in Ardia due to the weather. The committees associated with the trade dispute can’t get to their meeting place due to all of the ice and snow.”
The king scowled. “Wonderful,” he muttered. “Thanks for the update, Eckle. But please, knock next time.”
“Oh,” the commander said, glancing back at the door nervously. “Apologies, your majesty, I didn’t mean to-”
“No harm done,” Relam’s father promised. “I’ll see you tomorrow, early. I have to meet with the Council again.”
“Of course,” Eckle said, bowing and retreating.
As soon as the door was closed, Relam rolled his eyes and snorted derisively. “What a preening, self- important, groveling-”
“Buffoon?” the king suggested.
“Exactly,” Relam growled. “This is the best we can do for a commander?”
“Yes,” his father said, shrugging. “He is very good at his job though.”
Relam shook his head and was about to say more on the subject, but Griff chose that moment to enter the dining alcove and announce that dinner was ready. Immediately, the king and prince jumped up from their seats by the fire and hurried to the dining table for heaping bowls of nourishing hot stew and fresh, crusty bread. The meal was eaten in silence, save for the occasional slurping sound or the clink of a spoon against the bottom of a bowl.
When the meal had been finished, they returned to their seats by the fire, warm and content. Relam fell asleep in front of the dancing flames, dreaming of fire and dragons and adventure, as he often did.
The rest of the week passed slowly. The weather continued to deteriorate, going from cold mist to sleet to icy rain and snow. Drifts
