“I do not know anyone by that name in the royal courts,” Relam mused.
“He keeps to himself, lives on the river front not far from Agath’s facility. I don’t blame him for spending so much of his time there,” Narin continued, smiling. “I’ve been there before. Beautiful house, a little large for a lone old man but comfortable enough. But the gardens are spectacular, and the view of the river.”
“Better than the palace gardens?” Relam asked, grinning slightly.
“Begging your pardon your majesties, but yes, I think so,” Narin said, to Relam’s surprise. “It is a place of peace, tranquility. A very natural place.”
“Hardly where you would expect a warrior to retire to,” Relam’s father grunted. “He was one of the finest in his day, led one of the campaigns against the old Orell kingdom as I recall.”
“He must be old then,” Relam observed. The Orell War had been many years ago.
“Many years older than I,” the king agreed. “Some say he’s gone a bit strange, too. Doesn’t take students anymore and has some interesting ideas about this kingdom. Pity, he used to be the very best.”
“Maybe it’s the students who are the problem,” Relam suggested. “Maybe he has very high standards.”
“Could be,” his father agreed with a shrug. “But there’s no way of knowing is there?”
“It’s time,” the queen interrupted. “Everyone is assembled below.”
No sooner had they gotten in position once more than the sound of the herald’s staff against the marble entry floor rang through the hall and up the stairs.
“Most esteemed ladies and gentlemen of the court,” the herald called, his voice carrying to every corner of the space with ease. “The royal family! His majesty, King Orram, her majesty the Queen, and his highness Prince Relam.”
Relam’s parents began to descend the front steps as everybody below bowed deeply. Relam followed a few paces behind, feeling rather insignificant and superfluous. Beside him and a step above, Narin was watching everything at once, his left hand strangling the hilt of his sword. By glancing around casually, Relam was able to count all of Narin’s guards, spaced out in pairs at strategic points to monitor the entrance hall. No doubt, there were even more guards outside.
“All clear,” he murmured to Relam as they reached the base of the stairs. “Though I’ll be more at ease once we enter the banquet hall.”
Relam nodded imperceptibly, then smiled and nodded to the nearest guests, as protocol demanded. Fortunately, he happened to be close to Cevet Thius and his family. Cevet winked at Relam, while his parents bowed even lower. Cevet’s father, the leader of the Assembly of Nobles, was a thick man, nearly as wide as he was tall, and rather short. His emerald doublet was practically bursting at the seams and his thick belt was obviously bent as it tried to restrain his stomach. Cevet’s mother on the other hand was almost painfully thin, but she had a fierce and proud demeanor. She met Relam’s gaze boldly and frankly, with none of her husband’s groveling.
“My noble friends!” the king boomed, raising his hands. “Welcome! Welcome, and thrice welcome! Tonight, we celebrate several outstanding young men, who have achieved a great milestone in their lives. A scant few days ago, they faced the trials under sword master Tar Agath, and succeeded. They are men now, soldiers, and are on their way to becoming full-fledged warriors.”
The audience applauded politely, noble fathers clapping their sons on the back. Relam searched the crowd for Tar Agath and found him, leaning against the back wall, a contemptuous expression on his face. He saw Relam looking at him and started, surprised, then smiled and nodded in a friendly manner. Relam returned the greeting, then moved on, scanning the crowd for other faces.
“And now,” his father continued. “We celebrate! To the banquet hall!”
The audience laughed and cheered as the king led the way to the banquet hall, the queen still on his arm. Relam followed close behind, with Narin trying to keep up. The guard commander was muttering darkly about the swarming crowds and trying to herd the royal family along as quickly as possible.
Then, they were through the doors and into the spectacular hall. Relam had been to many formal dinners and feasts in this place before, but it never ceased to amaze him with its beauty and elegance. White marble pillars marched down the left and right side of the banquet hall, leading up to a domed ceiling coated in gold leaf. Five brilliantly lit silver chandeliers hung down from the roof, and elegant lanterns hung from the pillars on the walls. Between the pillars were tapestries, depicting famous scenes from the Sthan Kingdom’s history. All showed the Sthan people in a powerful, triumphant light as they overcame adversity: be it enemy armies or natural disasters or political turmoil.
The floor of the room was pure marble as well, cut in diamonds that ringed a central circle usually reserved for dancing. Tonight, though, the hall was split right down the middle by a long string of tables covered with spotless white cloths and silver plates and utensils.
Relam followed his parents to the far end of the hall, where three ornate chairs headed the table. His father’s chair was the largest, gilded, heavy, and solid. The chairs for the queen and the prince were no less ornate, but the throne had something extra to it, a sense of power and prestige. The young prince stood behind his chair and waited for his mother and father to sit, as protocol demanded, wondering why the trappings of royalty were so different from reality. A glance around the hall said that royalty was power and privilege, wealth and control. But his father was working constantly, with little free time, a significant amount of stress, and long days.
His parents sat and Relam followed suit. All up and
