The Prince (Heirs of Legacy Book 1)

by Paul Lauritsen

  “Good,” his father said, tossing aside a sheaf of documents. “Now we can get going. Are you ready?”

  Relam looked around hesitantly. “Is mother here?” he asked. He had not seen her since he had returned.

  The king’s expression darkened. “Your mother is very, very ill this morning, son. I don’t know what ails her, but she has the attention of every healer in the palace at the moment.”

  “What?” Relam demanded. “What happened?”

  “We don’t know,” the king said, shrugging dispiritedly. “Yesterday, she was extraordinarily tired when she woke. She hardly got out of bed before she was on her way back, saying she needed more rest. Then, this morning while you were at training, she summoned the healers.”

  “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Relam asked angrily.

  His father nodded sheepishly. “Well, I wasn’t worried yesterday. Your mother is always tired these days. But today . . .” his voice trailed off and he looked away, clearly troubled. Relam looked past him to the closed door of his parents’ room. Somewhere, on the other side of that wooden portal, was his mother, weary and weak. The thought drove Relam to distraction, nearly banishing all thoughts of the Midwood raid and the upcoming council meeting from his mind.

  “We can deal with this later,” the king said finally, his voice unsteady. Relam snapped out of his reverie, shaking his head to clear it.

  “Right now,” the king continued, “We need to stay focused. The Assembly will be looking to tear us apart today. The good news is, we have a surprise up our sleeve.”

  “Right,” Relam agreed, taking a deep, steadying breath. “Let’s go.”

  The king smiled slightly and rested a heavy hand on Relam’s shoulder. “Good man,” he said gently.

  Narin joined them in the hallway outside the royal apartments with a contingent of four guardsmen. They would stay outside the council room, as Relam’s father had ordered, but Narin had refused to let the king go to the meeting with no guards at all. Orram had conceded the point, knowing that it was only for his own safety.

  As they marched through the palace, the king began giving Relam final instructions quietly.

  “Remember, do not speak unless I ask you to. If one of the Assembly addresses you directly, check with me before you answer. They will likely see you as a weak link and go after you, trying to make you say something that will destabilize our position. Of course, there’s more risk of you having to speak now since you led the Midwood raid and everybody knows it. If I had foreseen the success that you had I would have asked you to return by night to avoid drawing attention to the whole thing . . . but we’ll just have to make do with the situation as is.”

  “Is Clemon still going to be there?” Relam asked. The king’s chatelain had many faults, but his experience in these matters would be welcome today.

  “Yes,” his father confirmed, nodding decisively. “Which is a very good thing.”

  They continued walking until they reached the council room’s heavy ironbound doors. The small band halted there and Narin pushed his way into the room, sword drawn, checking it for threats before letting the king and the prince enter.

  “All clear,” he reported a moment later, sticking his head back out into the hall. “There’s no one else here yet, your majesty.”

  “Good,” the king replied, entering the council room. “That gives us a moment to get situated. Narin, stand outside and let me know when our guests approach.”

  “Yes, your majesty.”

  Relam followed his father into the council room, looking around curiously. He had never had cause to enter this particular area of the palace before, and all of this was new to him. The council room was perfectly circular, white columns spaced evenly around the perimeter, the stone walls in between hung with banners displaying the crests of the royal family and the great lords. The table in the center of the room was circular as well, surrounded by eleven carved wooden chairs. The one opposite the door was larger than the others, and solid at the base while the others stood on four legs. Relam’s father made straight for this chair and sat down, shifting it closer to the table. Relam followed his father around the table and took his own place at his father’s right hand.

  They did not have to wait long. Only a few minutes after Relam and his father had arrived, Narin opened the council room door a crack to announce that Lord Clemon was approaching. The king’s chatelain then swept into the room and sat at the Orram’s left hand, nodding perfunctorily towards Relam.

  The others arrived as a group: Lord Thius came first, frowning and sweating lightly. Then the great lords, Garenes of the green hawk, Laurencian of the blue lion, Umeron of the silver stag, and Farad of the red boar. Lord Reshi, Jatt’s father, brought up the rear of the group.

  When all the lords had seated themselves, Relam’s father straightened in his seat and leaned forward slightly, resting his clasped hands on the table. “Welcome, my lords. I understand you have some issues to lay before me?”

  “You know what the issues are, Orram,” Garenes replied scathingly.

  Relam shifted uncomfortably. Not a good start, not at all. If the lords were frustrated enough to approach the king in such an aggressive manner, and neglecting his proper titles, then this meeting could go very poorly indeed.

  “The correct form of address would be ‘Your majesty’,” Clemon put in.

  Garenes curled his lip in disdain. “Spare me your groveling and sniveling, chatelain. We are here on business, not at some formal occasion.”

  “And since we are here for business, we will be keeping it professional I assume? Ignoring petty disputes that may exist between certain members?” Relam’s father asked matter-of-factly.

  Garenes snorted but made no reply, so Lord Thius took the floor.

  “The fact of the matter is, your majesty, that there are certain problems that the Assembly feels you should resolve immediately, and that should have been resolved a long time ago. Many,” he added, looking to his fellows for support, “Feel some of these are cases of gross negligence.”

  “Very well, let’s go down the list, shall we?” the king said, snatching up a copy of the scroll he had received from the Assembly the previous week. “Let’s see here: Reduction of taxes for the nobility . . . I think not, you can pay the same percentage as the beggars and peasants do easily enough. A council for meting out justice . . . Now that would be useful! It would save me hours of wasting time adjudicating petty disputes. Consider that request met, gentlemen. And that leaves-”

  “The largest issues, which you have so far ignored,” Laurencian interjected.

  “Ah, I believe you are mistaken there, my good lord,” Relam’s father replied. “The first item on your list of demands has been dealt with already.”

  “Excuse me?” Garenes interrupted.

  “Of course,” the king said, looking at Garenes. For a moment, there was dead silence and no one moved. “Go on,” Orram said, making a little shooing motion. “You’re excused, as you requested.”

  Garenes’ face darkened to an ugly red but he stayed seated, glowering at the king. Relam could not help admiring his father’s ability to crush the representatives of the Assembly so easily. He would have taken notes, but there were no writing utensils or parchment handy.

  “As I was saying,” the king continued, “Item one has been dealt with. Last week, an expedition was sent into the Midwood to deal with the bandit situation. The result was nearly sixty bandits killed, four captured, and a significant amount of plunder returned to Etares.”

  The lords sat back in their seats utterly flummoxed.

  “Our forces suffered no losses,” the king continued, turning his attention back to the parchment. “Oh, and Relam led the mission in case you were wondering.”

  The room fell into an uncomfortable silence for several moments. Finally, Lord Thius spoke again.

  “And what will this newfound wealth be used for?”

  “I’m not keeping it,” the king snorted
. “No, I rather thought that we might use the funds to clean up the Furnier and do something about the west side of Etares.” He and Relam had discussed this the previous day, and decided it would be best if the king introduced it as his idea.

  “Over the bridge you mean?” Garenes asked, frowning.

  “Is there another west side of Etares that I am unaware of?” the king replied mildly.

  “Fix it how?” Lord Umeron asked in his slow, deep voice.

  “Thank you for asking, my lord,” the king said, nodding to Umeron. “Unfortunately, I don’t have that answer yet. It will take time to make sure we do this right. I think the priority is proper housing and sanitation. That will help with the river situation too, keep people from dumping . . . erm, well, things, into the river all the time.”

  “That could work,” Laurencian admitted grudgingly.

  “Like I said, we will investigate to be sure, but I am optimistic as well,” the king said, nodding to Laurencian. “If the Assembly would like to contribute to this effort in the way of ideas or management, that would be welcome and it would also speed the process along.”

  “Well, we’ll see,” Thius said hastily. “The Assembly is very busy at the moment and-”

  “I believe his majesty meant a few members of the Assembly, not the Assembly itself,” Clemon broke in, glancing to Relam’s father for confirmation.

  “Yes, that will be more efficient,” Orram agreed.

  Relam nodded thoughtfully. His father had addressed nearly all of the nobles’ demands, and maintained control throughout by seizing the initiative. And, Relam realized, he hadn’t let up, constantly keeping his opponents off balance with little things like excusing Garenes. A masterful performance by a master manipulator.

  “As for this last item,” the king continued. “The formation of a royal navy. We have an extensive harbor guard here at Etares. I understand the Assembly wishes to extend this to the other waterways of the kingdom as well?”

  “Particularly in the south,” Thius agreed, nodding emphatically.

  “Why?” the king said bluntly.

  “I beg your pardon?” Lord Farad said, leaning forward.

  “Granted,” the king said automatically, causing Farad to reel back in his seat. Relam hid a smile behind his hand and quickly composed himself.

  “Why do we need a navy in the south?”

  “To protect the merchant fleets!” Lord Reshi said quickly.

  “Ah,” the king said, glancing at Clemon. “Marc, do you have those reports I asked you for about the disruption in southern trade routes? Sea trade routes, that is?”

  “Yes, your majesty, right here,” Clemon said, handing him a sheet of parchment in what was very obviously a prearranged display.

  The king held the parchment up and scanned it briefly. “Here we are: it is the conclusion of trade officials in Narne, Ishkabur, and other cities that the predominant problem facing the merchant marine is not any sort of brigands or pirates but the unusual number of deadly ice storms this year.”

  The king dropped the parchment. It swooped to the table and slid along the surface, coming to a rest near Lord Thius’ left hand. “So, my lords, unless you have an idea for a royal navy that can protect our ships from ice, I suggest we scratch this particular demand. I would be willing to add a few ships to the harbor guard here in Etares and expand their patrol range to cover most of the Furnier Sea, and add a few ships at Ardia, Ostgard, and Narne to patrol the rivers.”

  “That would be . . . satisfactory,” Thius allowed, wringing his hands agitatedly. Garenes was scowling beside him. Clearly, the meeting had not gone as well as the great lord had hoped.

  “Now, before we all return to our normal business, there was another matter I wanted to discuss,” the king said, his voice dropping ominously. Relam looked up in surprise, wondering what his father was up to. They had covered the demands with surprising success and were at the point of dismissing the lords. What else was there to do?

  “How can you possibly accuse me of negligence?” the king demanded. “Last week was the first time I had seen any of these demands, and today they have all been addressed, one week later, and in a more than satisfactory manner.”

  “Well,” Lord Thius blustered. “You see, these have been ongoing problems-”

  “Then why have they not been brought to my attention before?” the king demanded, his voice rising. “If you want to accuse me of negligence, you better have a recurring pattern of me ignoring problems brought to my attention. Otherwise you, my lords, will end up on the losing side. As you have today.”

  Lord Thius opened his mouth to say something else, but the king held up his hand. “Don’t,” he said fiercely. “You’ve already lost. Don’t make it worse.”

  Thius closed his mouth and looked down at his sheet of demands. He swallowed hard, then stood and bowed gravely. “Thank you for your time, your majesty,” he said with all the politeness that could be mustered. “We thank you for your . . . cooperation.”

  The Head of the Assembly pushed back his chair and swept towards the door, gesturing for the other lords to follow. After a moment’s hesitation, they did, Garenes standing so quickly he knocked his chair over. Without bothering to right it, he swept from the room.

  When the last lord had left, Narin entered the council room, quietly closing the doors behind him. “What did you do to them, your majesty?” he asked, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I’ve never seen a great lord look meek before, but I could swear I just saw such an expression on each of their faces!”

  “Even Garenes?” Relam asked.

  Narin shook his head. “Not really, he looked furious. I didn’t know a human face could turn that color honestly. I assume this is where he sat?” the guard commander added, straightening the fallen chair.

  “Yes,” Relam said, glancing at his father. “How did you do that? You reduced them to absolutely nothing and then finished them off!”

  “It takes practice,” his father replied. “But that is how to deal with the Assembly. Seize the initiative, keep them off balance, send them packing. Run the meeting on your own terms, your own scheduling.”

  “They never seem to catch on somehow,” Clemon said thoughtfully, looking around the nearly empty council room. “They did seem a little disorganized today though.”

  “Yes, and not at all confident,” the king added, frowning. “Usually it’s not that easy.”

  “To be fair, many of their claims were spurious,” Clemon continued warming to his theme. “I’m really not sure what they expected. When you consider-”

  “We can analyze it later,” the king said, silencing Clemon temporarily.

  Relam breathed out a sigh of relief and stood, stretching. “That was certainly more interesting than I expected,” he admitted. “Do you think anything will come of it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The river, the west side of Etares, the navy-”

  “The navy certainly,” his father replied. “That’s something I can take care of in an hour. The river and the poorer section of the city will take more time and a good deal of cooperation from the Assembly.”

  “So, no chance?” Relam guessed.

  “That’s not an entirely accurate assessment of the Assembly’s decision-making ability, your highness, but a fair one,” Clemon agreed despondently. “The Council is mostly talk, no action. That’s why I was so agitated the other day when I found out they actually followed through on delivering demands.”

  “And look how well that turned out,” Relam said drily. “You’ve probably discouraged the Assembly from ever acting again, father.”

  Chapter 20

  A year passed. Summer turned to fall, and fall to winter. The streets of Etares became thick with dead and decaying leaves, and the distant Midwood appeared not as a verdant green tangle of growth but as a gray, twisted, and haunted land. The weather turned cold and hard, the skies alternately showering ice and snow on the capital city. A thi
n skin of ice formed on the Furnier River and along the edges of the harbor, and workers were hired to break the buildups with long poles so that ships could pass. Through the dreary season, the royal family suffered from a near-constant stream of illnesses and minor colds. Relam’s mother took the brunt of it, fragile as she was, staying in her room all day for most of the winter. When she was not in bed, she sat in front of a raging fire in the main room, wrapped in blankets but still shivering, a vacant look in her dulled eyes.

  Finally, winter relinquished its icy grip on the capital city. The ice retreated, the last of the snow melted, and buds began forming on the ends of tree branches. Blooms appeared in every garden and window box, and the weather shifted from devastating snow and ice storms to gentle spring rains. The world was alive again, and growing warmer every day. Soon, the hard winter was but a memory.

  At last summer came again, and the outside temperature grew to be uncomfortable. Plants wilted in the heat, though they were constantly watered by their caretakers. Bars and inns began doing a roaring trade in cold drinks, serving workers, soldiers, nobles, and commoners alike. The heat spared nobody in its oppressive rule.

  Even with the coming of spring and summer though, the queen remained in ill health. Every now and then she would recover enough to visit friends or leave the royal apartments for a few hours. But within a few days, she would sink back into the same recurring, wasting illness. She was all skin and bone now, frailer and paler than ever before.

  As a result, Relam spent much of his time trying to help his mother back to health. His father had a kingdom to run, of course, and knew little of healing in the first place. The royal healers did as much as they could, but Relam insisted on taking over simple tasks for them, helping where he could and learning along the way.

  Eventually, the day approached when Relam would begin training with Oreius. He had heard nothing from the old man in the interim, and Tar had not mentioned him to Relam when he visited the training ground. But the prince thought it safe to assume that Oreius would still train him. Which meant in less than two weeks his year of freedom would be over.