“Last minute change,” the sword master explained briefly. “And I wanted to congratulate you in person, your highness. You were one of my very best students. I am sure you will go far, no matter who you choose as a master.”
“Not many options, are there?” Relam asked. “Just D’Arnlo really. Unless you are looking for older students?”
Master Agath laughed and sat back in his chair. “No, I am not, your highness. I enjoy training cadets and that is what I will continue to do. But, I would like to point out that you have options in front of you.”
“Such as?”
“Yavvis may train mainly those of common birth, but I do not think he would be opposed to taking you on,” Agath explained.
“My father may not like me training outside the nobility,” Relam murmured quietly. Fortunately, the king was deep in conversation with Narin, who was sitting by the queen, and he failed to notice.
“There is also Oreius,” Agath replied, leaning closer to the prince.
“I’ve heard he no longer takes students,” Relam replied, wishing that the sword master had offered some real alternatives and not far-fetched dreams.
“The fault has been in the candidates,” Tar Agath said slowly. “Not in Oreius. He will take on a worthy student. And he is the finest sword master the realm has to offer. Better than D’Arnlo. Better than me.”
Relam blinked in surprise. “You think so?” he asked.
“I know so,” Agath replied gravely. “And there are other advantages to training with Oreius that you may have already guessed at.”
“I can think of a few,” Relam agreed, glancing down the table to where the other cadets sat.
“Yes. But tonight is a night for celebration,” Agath said, raising his glass in a toast. “You still have nearly a year until you can train under a master anyways. To you, Relam! May you live a long and fulfilling life.”
“And you, Master,” Relam replied generously, drinking from his own glass. His eyes widened in surprise as he realized that for the first time his wine had not been watered.
“I am not your master any more, my prince,” Agath said. “Call me Tar. All of my friends do.”
Relam smiled and raised his glass again. “Very well, Tar. I’ll do the same.”
The meal turned out to be a far more cheerful and pleasant one than Relam had dared hope. The bothersome lordlings were spread out and reasonably far away, Marc Clemon was absent, and the great lords with their talk of politics were just far enough away that they could not bore the royal family or start any arguments with the king.
The sword masters, who had ended up seated between the royal family and the great lords, were not great conversationalists, but Relam did not mind. His old master, Tar Agath, sat by him through the entire meal, D’Arnlo on Tar’s other side, paying no heed to his potential student and instead ardently discussing something or other with a frowning great lord. The sword master Yavvis, from the heights, sat across from Tar, largely ignoring the others at the table. He struck Relam as a rather solemn man but he was massively built and muscular.
Beside Yavvis was the fourth sword master Oreius. While the other three sword masters seemed accustomed to court life, Oreius seemed uncomfortable. He scowled around constantly and talked to no one. He did not look the part either, clad in a simple tunic and pants with a cloak over top, his grizzled mane of gray hair wild and untamed, though his beard was short and well-trimmed. Altogether, he was an unnerving sight surrounded by the glittering, elegant nobles and their families.
As the plates were being cleared away, a thought occurred to Relam. “Tar, what happened with Sebast? If he didn’t pass, then why is he here?”
Agath’s expression tightened. “It was deemed an accident, a heat of the moment type thing. His father complained bitterly and demanded that I rescind my judgement.”
“And you did?”
Tar shook his head. “No, I most certainly did not! But he went to the Citadel and had Sebast tested by another trainer and approved as a soldier. They did not tell me who, nor why they saw fit to override my decision.”
“That’s ridiculous! You’re the one who trained us, you should have final say in anything that-”
“Relam,” Agath said gently. “This is a tangled world that we live in. What’s right and what’s wrong does not always matter, nor what is fair or unfair. More often than not, it is who has influence, power, or money and who does not.”
The young prince nodded soberly. “I understand,” he said softly. “Do you see any way that the world could change? For the better?”
Tar shook his head sadly. “I have lived long, Relam. I have seen multiple kings ascend the throne, lived through several wars. But the world we live in has been constant. And I don’t think any one man can change it.”
Relam sighed with frustration and sat back in his chair. As he did, he felt eyes on him and glanced across the table warily. His eyes met the flat gaze of Oreius, the sword master. They stared at each other for a moment, then the grizzled master turned away slowly and drank from his goblet.
“All pay heed to his majesty, the king!” the herald shouted suddenly, startling Relam.
Orram stood, holding up his hands for silence. “What a feast! A fitting way to celebrate the accomplishments of these young men. Once again, congratulations to all of you. We are all very proud of each of you.”
Polite applause followed this declaration, the cadets grinning at each
