“That’s great!” Relam said, grinning, the pain in his hand momentarily forgotten. “So, it’s official? You’re going to join the city guard?”
“Yes,” the boy said proudly. “I start training next week, once they can get all of the paperwork straightened out. I’ll be issued a sword and armor then, but they did give me these today.” He tugged at the uniform tunic, trying to straighten a crease caused by the broad leather belt around his waist. Relam noticed Aven was wearing new boots as well. He even looked taller, and more confident. Maybe it was the fact that he finally had something to be proud of.
“I’m glad it worked out,” the prince said quietly. “You’ll be a great soldier, Aven, if that is the path you choose.”
Aven shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe when I start training I’ll get stronger and bigger. Maybe big and strong enough to train as a cadet.”
“You don’t have to be big to be a warrior,” Relam reminded him. “Just look at Cevet Thius.”
“Yes, but he’s been training almost since birth to make up for his size,” Aven replied. “I haven’t. I’ve been working as a servant, cleaning up messes since I could walk.” He scooped up the towel Relam had wrapped his hand in earlier. “Speaking of, anything else you need from me, Relam?”
“Maybe some fresh towels later on,” Relam replied. “Can’t think of anything else at the moment. Thanks for your help cleaning up.”
“No problem,” the youth replied. “It’s my job. Well, one of my jobs anyway.” He flashed a quick grin, then left, closing the door behind him.
Relam sighed and sank into his chair, taking a moment to catch his breath and revel in his accomplishments over the past few days. He had sparred with his father, passed the trials, and now secured his friend and loyal servant an opportunity to grow and become something much more than a mere servant.
“Who knows?” Relam said to himself. “Maybe someday he’ll be in my personal guard.”
Smiling at the thought, the prince turned to face the tall windows. As he did, his eyes drifted across the bloodied knife and the carving of a dragon. Hastily, he stowed the carving in its secret hiding place and wiped the knife clean.
“Good thing Aven didn’t see that,” he muttered. The carving was not something he was ready to share with others. Yet. It seemed so childish a dream, seeing a dragon. Touching one. Maybe even flying on one or fighting one. The prince could not say which of those possibilities excited him more.
Tomorrow, he would go back to the libraries, he decided. He would reread the old tales and spend the whole day in the company of the books he had once so loved. The ones that provided a world of adventure despite his insulated life in the palace, secure from any threats, from outside contact, from the rest of the world. What was the kingdom like, beyond the walls of Etares? He knew of far off places certainly, even had some idea of their geography. Maps could tell him that. But what were the cities and villages like? The people? How tall were the mountains, how broad the plains, how wide the rivers that bordered the plains? Were the swamplands really a festering, stinking realm? Was the north really as cold as the stories said? What of the tales that spoke of whole armies being swallowed by vicious storms?
Once again, the prince felt the call of adventure. To roam, to live by his wits and blade. What it must have been like to be a hero of old. A law unto himself, a force to be feared because of ability, not because of some title bestowed at birth.
His ruminations were interrupted by the sound of the outer door opening. “-and there really is no reason why we should go personally to sort out the dispute. Trust me, your majesty, you want nothing to do with those lands.”
“You’re right, I don’t,” Relam’s father replied loudly. “I don’t want to visit them, experience them. Smell them.”
“So, you want me to refuse their request?”
“Obviously. If they want me to hear this in person, they can ride to the capital.”
“Very well, your majesty, I will communicate that immediately.”
“Good. See you tomorrow, Marc.” Relam heard the outer door close, then his father muttered, “Unfortunately.”
Relam waited a moment, then quietly slipped into the main room. “Another typical afternoon?”
His father turned around and scowled. “You could say that. The lords fighting over the swamp sent another message asking me to come in person to survey the issue.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re idiots,” the king muttered disgusted. “I’m a king. I don’t have time to go riding off around the known world to resolve every dispute. And I certainly don’t need the ‘extra experience and perspective’ such a trip would give me. And it won’t help me make a better decision either. If I go, it will be to grab the pair of them and-”
“Dinner’s ready,” the queen interrupted, stepping out of the dining alcove. Relam and his father exchanged sheepish looks and made their way to the table.
As he sat down in his typical place, Relam looked up and saw his mother frowning at him across the table. “Relam, what happened to your hand?”
“Nothing,” he said casually. “Just sliced myself while doing some carving.”
“That looks like more than a slice,” his father said drily, noting the thick bandage. “You sure that thumb is still attached if you take the bandage off?”
Relam grinned. “Okay, you got me. I stuck it back on with a blob of pitch. I’m just waiting for it to firm up, then the bandage
