The following morning, Relam was standing on a balcony outside of his new quarters when he heard a soft footstep behind him. Familiar, and easily recognizable.
“I sense an old gray warrior behind me,” he said without turning around.
A soft snort came from behind him. “Maybe you are getting better,” Oreius grunted, stepping up beside Relam as he spoke. “It will serve you well when you go south.”
Relam nodded dejectedly. “Marching to war within days of being crowned,” he murmured. “I always wanted adventure.”
“But not of this sort,” Oreius agreed, leaning against the rail. “Nor do I want this for myself.”
“You have not changed your mind?”
“No, Relam. I am old. I had my war, and I can do more good here now, helping Narin to keep the rest of the kingdom in order.”
Relam nodded slowly. “It’s a big task. That’s why Narin is staying and Eckle is going with me to serve as guard commander for a little longer.”
“I heard. You really want that preening idiot commanding your guard during a war?”
Relam shrugged. “Not really. But, he can fight and Narin is needed here. So I will take him and hope he learns something in the process.”
Oreius chuckled to himself. “I hadn’t thought of that. It could be a great experience for that pampered Citadel warrior. I almost want to come along just to witness the spectacle.”
They lapsed into silence then, each with their own thoughts. Below, the palace gardens rustled in a stiff breeze. The city beyond was alive with voices and activity, a constant reminder of the imminent march.
“Surely you didn’t come all the way up here just to commiserate with me,” Relam said finally. “What is on your mind, my friend?”
Oreius turned and looked at Relam. “I wanted to tell you how proud I am before you leave. Proud of what you have learned, yes, but also of the king you have become. I would like to think that I played a part in your development, but much of what you needed you already had.”
“And now,” Relam said grinning, “Your training will help keep me alive long enough be a good king.”
“With any luck, yes,” Oreius agreed. “I do not know what waits for you in the south, but I don’t doubt that you will overcome it. It may not be easy. You may be tested. But if you succeed, then both you and this kingdom will be the stronger for it.”
“And if we fail?”
Oreius shook his head. “You will not.”
Relam cocked his head curiously. “Why do you say that?”
Oreius smiled. “Because you protect your own. I know you, Relam. You fight for your family. For your friends. For your people. As long as you have life, you will defend this kingdom, no matter the cost.”
“Rule their people well,” Relam murmured thoughtfully.
“Aye, and protect them,” Oreius added. “You will be a great king, Relam. When you return, I will still be here to help if you wish. But this war is your journey, your time.”
“Thank you, master,” Relam murmured. Deep within, the grief and fear that had consumed him since Clemon’s return seemed to ease a little. In their place, something else had begun to form: a determined resolve.
Abruptly, Relam turned to head back inside. “Where are you going?” Oreius asked.
“To war,” the young king replied immediately, his eyes hard and sharp as flint. “It is time to aid the south.”
End of Book 1
About the Author
Paul Lauritsen has long been an avid reader and writer of fantasy literature. He began writing his first stories in junior high, developing and building his own worlds of adventure and heroism. The Prince is the first volume of his four-book “Heirs of Legacy” series. Paul currently lives in Wisconsin, where he continues to write and develop new stories.
