“It is your opinion. By most accounts, he is a good fighter, well-versed in court protocol, intelligent, and more than fit to take on his father’s role.”
“That’s because nobody else knows him like I do!” Relam retorted. “I’ve sparred with him every day for years, and I can tell you that the ‘honorable lordling’ face he puts on for the rest of the world is nothing more than a thin disguise.”
“Silence!” the king shouted. Relam stumbled back, surprised and a little hurt. “Silence,” his father said again, in a hushed voice. “As king I cannot rush to judgement. I will look into this, son, I promise. I will speak with lordling Garenes and his father, as well as Tar Agath. Were there any others present?”
“No,” Relam said, shaking his head. He wished he had not brought the incident up at all. The discussion had quickly evaporated the joy of passing the trials. Now all was suspicion and hard feelings. And more than a little frustration with his obstinate father and his ‘investigation’.
“Let’s not overshadow Relam’s accomplishment with this incident,” his mother said, as though reading his thoughts. “Our young prince has passed the trials!”
“Yes,” the king agreed resolutely. “That’s what matters right now. Congratulations, son.”
“Thank you,” Relam said, glad they had moved on from Sebast. “By the way, during the trials, Master Agath showed me how to counter a few of your tricks.”
The king laughed, a real booming laugh that shook the walls. “Did he? We should see if you can use that knowledge against me some time. Or maybe Tar and I should spar. It’s been a long time,” he added thoughtfully, gazing off into the distant past. His smile faltered a little and he frowned slightly. “We used to be very close,” he said quietly. “But I don’t think I’ve even spoken to him for several months, and only then at a formal event.”
“Kings are busy,” Relam said, shrugging.
“Maybe, but still . . .” The king frowned thoughtfully.
They were interrupted by a perfunctory knock at the door.
“Enter,” the king called, shaking himself.
The door opened and Relam braced himself as he recognized Marc Clemon, resplendent in emerald robes with golden stoles over top. “I hear there’s excellent news, your highness!” he said, smiling patronizingly at Relam. “Completed the trials, well done, well done indeed!”
“Thank you, Lord Clemon,” Relam said, bowing slightly. “It was all thanks to Master Agath’s hard work and teachings.”
The king’s chatelain nodded gravely. “Maybe, but you still had to pass on your own, without his help. And it’s a big milestone on the way to being a warrior.” He turned to the king then, all but dismissing Relam. “My lord, I have here some reports that require your attention. Another border dispute between the lord of the marshes and one of the plains lords.”
“Again?” the king sighed. “What is it this time?”
“The swamps have been shrinking due to the recent droughts in the area and the plains lord, Lord Tal has claimed the newly dried swampland as part of his holdings, while Lord Fenmere is claiming that he still holds the land, even though it is not swamp.”
“The things these lords find to argue over,” the king muttered. “Very well. Back to work, I suppose. I’ll see you at dinner son, and we’ll celebrate properly as a family then. Does that work for you?”
“Of course,” Relam said, grinning impudently. “My schedule for the next twelve months is wide open!”
The king scowled. “I’d forgotten about that. You wouldn’t care to take some of my kingly duties for me, would you?”
“I don’t think so,” Relam said, glancing at Lord Clemon. “I might be tempted to drown Fenmere and Tal in the swamp they’re fighting over.”
“That would solve the problem,” the king said hopefully.
“It would set an unfortunate precedent, your majesty,” Clemon said quickly.
“Matter of perspective,” Relam’s father grunted in reply. As Clemon opened his mouth to protest, he cut him off. “I’m only joking, Marc. Mostly.”
“Oh, well, in that case, we had best get on with solving the problem,” Clemon said, straightening his stoles. “Besides the marshland dispute, there are also some officer positions in the guard and some issues of overcrowding in the barracks to consider. Plus, the problems at the harbor of not enough space to offload cargo and such, though what we’re to do about that I really don’t know. If I’ve told Harbormaster Treran once I’ve told him a thousand times that there simply-”
“Come on,” the king said sharply, taking Clemon by the elbow and propelling him out the door. “I’ll be back later,” he called over his shoulder. “Much later.”
The door slammed shut behind the two, abruptly cutting off Clemon’s never-ending stream of dithering. Relam sighed heavily and turned to his mother.
“Well, at least that’s over with. I don’t know how father puts up with him every day.”
The queen smiled ruefully. “It is his duty as king, Relam. He has to deal with it.”
Relam shrugged. “Can’t say I’m in any hurry to be following Clemon from one problem to the next all day.”
“Nor should you be,” the queen agreed. “Enjoy being young for now. There will be plenty of years down the road where you have to shoulder the burden of royalty.”
“The burden of royalty,” Relam mused. “Most people think those words shouldn’t go together.”
“And most people are wrong,” his mother said, frowning. “A king has to put his own interests last, and those of the kingdom first. A king who does otherwise-”
“Is a sorry excuse for a king,” Relam finished. “Yes, I know.” He stretched, groaning slightly. “I think I’ll take some time off,” he decided. “Maybe read, do a little woodcarving. Or just sleep.”
“You can do anything you want,” his mother agreed. “You’re free for the next year.”
Relam grinned. “Then back to slaving away under
