“Before we depart, I would like to speak briefly with the lords in attendance,” the king said. “I apologize for marring the evening with business, but it is absolutely necessary. I will only take a few moments of your time. Again, congratulations, and thank you for being here tonight.”
The king withdrew from the table and the guests rose quickly. The lords strode purposefully towards the back of the hall, where Relam’s father and Narin were waiting, Narin whispering urgently in the king’s ear. Orram was frowning as he listened. As the lords drew within earshot, he held up a hand and shook the guard commander off.
Wondering what that had been about, Relam stood and began walking towards the entrance to the hall, hoping to make a quick escape. To do so though, he had to walk past the place where the other lordlings had been seated.
As Sebast saw Relam approaching, he got to his feet and moved towards Relam, followed by Knet, Delan, and Jatt. Relam adjusted his course to loop around them, but they followed stubbornly. Finally, Relam reluctantly accepted that he would have to face them.
“Quite the celebration,” Relam said amiably as they approached.
“Yeah,” Sebast grunted as though he could care less. “I bet you feel real special don’t you princeling?”
“Well, tonight was a night for all of us,” Relam said, stressing the word all. “Seeing as each of us passed the trials, after a fashion.”
“After a fashion?” Garenes spat. “Do elaborate.”
“You know what I mean,” Relam growled. “There’s no sense in pretending otherwise. ”
Sebast scowled while his friends shifted uncomfortably. “I suppose that your father has fixed you up with a sword master as well?” Relam asked, pressing his advantage.
“Not yet,” Sebast replied. “We have months to do that.”
“Hmm,” Relam replied. “Well, why don’t we use this as another competition, Sebast? A way to prove who is the better student.”
“I’m listening,” Garenes said.
“Have you heard of a man called Oreius? The greatest of the four sword masters?”
“The greatest?” Garenes said, laughing.
“Relam’s right,” Cevet said, having just joined them. “Oreius is a legendary warrior. A hero of the realm too, named many years ago though.”
Relam hadn’t known that particular detail. “Do you know when the last time was he took a student?” he asked curiously.
Cevet nodded. “A long time ago, twenty years or more. He took two students, brothers, who went on to save the south from a Vertaga invasion nearly ten years ago.”
“Sounds like a master anyone could be proud of,” Relam observed.
The others shifted uncomfortably, some even flinching. Sebast rolled his eyes. “Is this a joke, your highness? You want to see who can be the first to train with someone who hasn’t taken a student in years?”
“Pretty much,” Relam agreed.
“Problem is, he won’t take any of us,” Delan muttered. “He never takes students anymore.”
“He has high standards,” Relam replied. “The question is, are any of you up to them?”
Sebast snorted. “I suppose you are?”
Relam smiled confidently. “Oreius will take on a worthy student,” he said, to the group at large. “Good luck, my friends. Using that term loosely, of course.”
“Of course,” Sebast said, smirking. Then, he turned away and left the banquet hall, followed by Delan and Knet. Jatt wandered back to the table where his mother was gossiping with the other ladies in attendance. Cevet lingered, eyeing Relam shrewdly.
“What?” the prince finally asked.
“I’m just wondering why you’ve instigated yet another competition with Sebast,” he said slowly. “Especially when he attacked you last time he lost.”
“Because he can’t bribe his way to success or have his father do it for him,” Relam replied. “From what I gather, Oreius is not one to take orders from puffed-up nobles.”
“You’re right,” Cevet agreed, shaking his head. “You know what happened to the last candidate, two years ago?”
“No.”
Cevet’s face split in a wicked grin. “Oreius threw him in the river. The lordling’s father went to demand an apology and Oreius gave him the same treatment.”
“I like him already,” Relam said drily, glancing past Cevet. As he did, he noticed a grizzled, gray-haired figure slipping out of the banquet hall. Looking around, Relam realized that Tar Agath was gone as well. The other sword masters were still lingering, D’Arnlo talking quietly with Cevet’s father, Yavvis politely listening to a corpulent minor lord Relam recognized as a member of the larger Assembly.
“I wish I could train with him,” Cevet said wistfully, turning away from the door Oreius had left through. “But I don’t think it will happen.”
Relam frowned. “Why not? I can’t imagine he would refuse you.”
“That’s not the problem,” Cevet replied. “My father has other plans for me.”
“Ah,” Relam said, nodding. “D’Arnlo?”
“Yeah,” Cevet said, shrugging. “He’s good, or so I hear. But, I don’t know. I don’t really like him as a person. And if you throw in his political views-”
“Son!” Lord Thius called suddenly from across the hall, beckoning to Cevet. “Let’s go! I have to be up early for a meeting tomorrow.”
Cevet waved a hand in acknowledgement. “We’ll talk more some other time,” he promised. “We could meet at Tar’s facility to train if you want.”
“Done,” Relam said eagerly. “Fourth day of this week work for you?”
“Yes,” Cevet agreed. “Now that we’re no longer cadets, any day works for me.”
“Cevet!” Lord Thius called again. “Come on, son.”
Cevet rolled his eyes. “Sebast isn’t the only one with demanding nobles for parents,” he muttered. “See you later, Relam.”
The prince nodded briefly in reply. He was looking past Cevet, to where Lord Thius waited impatiently, scowling and flushed. The moment Cevet had joined him, he swept from the hall, closely followed by Lady Thius. Relam looked around to see if anyone else had noticed
