The Prince (Heirs of Legacy Book 1)

by Paul Lauritsen

  “Be that as it may-”

  “You two know each other?” Relam demanded.

  The two men looked at him. “Yes,” they replied in unison. Then, they went back to their conversation.

  “I assume that you are not here on a social call, commander?”

  “Forget the title,” Narin said, waving a hand. “It’s not mine anymore. I’ve been replaced.”

  “Really?” Oreius asked. “And how did that come about?”

  “The king fired me,” Narin said, shrugging. “It seems I let him down by allowing someone to get to the queen.”

  “I had not heard she was murdered.”

  “We’ve been keeping it quiet. Anyway, the king wanted me sentenced to life in prison but Relam convinced him to execute me instead.”

  “What?” Oreius demanded, rounding on the prince. Relam rose to his feet, holding his hands up to ward off the sword master. “You might have mentioned that,” he said in a dangerous voice, advancing on Relam.

  “Calm down, gray one,” Narin said, laughing. “It was all a ruse. We took four guards we could trust to the Citadel and faked my execution. They carried me out in a body bag and buried the bag beyond the city gates. I reentered the city last market day, disguised as a trader. I’ve been laying low since then.”

  “Well, that’s more like it,” Oreius said, sliding a sidelong look at Relam. “You had me worried about our boy here for a moment, Narin.”

  “I told you before and I’ll tell you again, he’s a good one, Oreius,” Narin said. “The finest you could ask for.”

  “So I hear,” Oreius replied drily. “Let me guess, you need a place to stay for a while?”

  “If it would not be too much trouble.”

  “You know there’s far too much house here for one old man,” Oreius grunted. “Take the north wing for yourself if you want. I’ll get you a key to the back door.”

  “Thanks,” Narin said, nodding.

  “Anything new on my mother’s death?” Relam asked eagerly.

  Narin hesitated. “Early days yet,” he prevaricated. “There’s some information I need to verify, some contacts I need to speak with. To get things done secretly takes time, your highness, especially when you are dealing with the lowlifes of the city. Their information is top notch, but you have to be careful how much you tell them. And there are always unwelcome listeners, hoping for information they can turn to profit themselves.”

  “Go carefully,” Relam urged. “You’re of no use if you get yourself killed.”

  “Haven’t you heard?” Narin said, flashing a quick grin. “I’m already dead.”

  Relam rolled his eyes. “Let’s get back to training,” he suggested to Oreius.

  “Yes, let’s,” Oreius agreed. “Get going Narin.”

  “See you around, friends,” Narin replied cheerily, moving smartly around the side of the house and back out into the bustling city.

  “Right,” Oreius grunted. “Back to work.”

  The rest of the morning was spent on more of the same awareness drill. Relam sat on the stone bench and listened, listing what he heard and sensed around him, what he could smell and taste on the air. Oreius gave him no indication of how well he was doing, but Relam privately thought that he had performed decently.

  They took lunch together in Oreius’ dining room again, a quick meal of ham, biscuits, and fruit. Then, it was back outside for an afternoon’s work on the practice patterns, starting with the ten Tar had taught Relam and moving into the new ones they had developed the previous day. Oreius did not demand the same frenzied pace, but Relam performed the strokes as fast as he could, knowing that he should get used to fighting at the speed of thought. This practice could one day mean the difference between life and death.

  Towards the end of the day, Relam helped Oreius develop two more practice patterns, numbers thirteen and fourteen. They were significantly more complicated than eleven and twelve, involving far more movement and imagination. By the end of the day, the young prince was wrung out once more, completely drained of energy with barely the strength to stumble home, clean up, and eat dinner alone before collapsing on his bed.

  The rest of the week followed a similar pattern. Morning drills in awareness, then lunch, and finally swordplay in the afternoon. Relam’s muscles grew stiffer and sorer every day, and the weekend could not come soon enough. He needed time to recover, two days of rest to build his strength up once more, so that Oreius could tear him apart the next week.

  The fifth day of training ended at last and Relam returned to the palace. There was no sign of his father again, and no sign of Lord Clemon or Eckle either. This was a welcome bit of good news for Relam. In truth, by spending most of his time either sleeping or away from the palace, he had managed to evade his father’s advisors and officials.

  Relam’s luck couldn’t hold forever though. As he was sitting down to a leisurely late breakfast on the sixth day, there came a brisk knock at the door and Eckle entered without so much as a by-your-leave. Relam scowled at the commander and swallowed, clearing his mouth so that he could speak.

  “Good morning, your highness,” Eckle said pleasantly. “Did you have a good night’s rest?”

  Relam scowled at the commander. “Yes.”

  Eckle nodded. “Glad to hear it. Here is the list of names I promised you. All are well qualified and most have had Citadel training. Those who don’t are officers in the guard, appointed before I took over. They have performed surprisingly well, given the previous commander’s obvious lackings-”

  “I’ll take a look at this later,” Relam grunted. “Maybe visit the guards’ quarters to speak with the men.”

  “Of course, your highness,” Eckle said, bowing low. “Good day.”

  “Good day indeed,” Relam muttered under his breath as Eckle withdrew. Then, he returned his full attention to his briefly interrupted breakfast. The sausage, bacon, eggs, toast and potatoes were still wonderfully hot and perfectly cooked. Relam refilled his plate twice before deciding he was full and sitting back in his chair. As he dropped his napkin onto the table with an air of finality, Eckle’s list of names fluttered to the ground.

  Snorting derisively, Relam scooped up the list of names. He scanned it briefly, recognizing only a few of the guards on the list. He frowned, wondering when so many of the palace guards had become unknown to him, then shrugged. A lot of new faces had been brought in since the assassination attempt the previous year, and with Narin departing there had probably been a few more guards replaced. Relam had been too preoccupied with his mother’s illness and training to take the time to learn names over the last several months. He glanced at the list again, then ripped it in half, slowly, so that it produced a satisfyingly loud and drawn-out shredding noise. He hoped that Eckle was close enough to the outer door to hear it. Relam ripped the pieces in half five more times, then tossed the scraps onto the small fire in the fireplace to burn to a crisp. Nothing he had done in the last week had been quite so satisfying.

  Relam returned to his room and shut the door, intending to rest for the next several hours, to give his sore muscles time to recover. Then, a horrible thought occurred to him. What if his father and Eckle got wind that he had no intention of selecting a personal guard? What if they decided to assign him guards themselves? What if he was assigned guards he did not know? Or guards he did not trust?

  He had been on the point of sprawling on his bed, but now the prince began pacing restlessly, moving from the far left window to the far right and back again, turning quickly at the end of each length of the room. He could send the guards away, but his father would send them right back. He could threaten Eckle with throwing him in the river if he did give him guards. He could have Oreius throw the man in the river . . .

  Or he could thwart them by selecting his own guards, without their input.

  Relam belted on his sword and hurried out of the room, not even pausing to speak with the guards outside the door. The guards’ quarters were on the fir
st level, not far from the entrance hall but centrally located enough that in the event of an emergency guards could be swarming at every entrance in seconds. Relam stuck to the main corridors, since he did not know the servant’s corridors as well in this part of the palace and had no desire to get lost.

  On the way to the guards’ quarters, Relam passed the open door to the king’s audience hall. He peeked inside for the barest moment and sighed inwardly. His father was there, sitting on the throne, his crown upon his head, staring off into space, sitting hunched forward, leaning on his bare sword which was standing vertically, the tip resting on the dais. Clemon hovered anxiously nearby, while Eckle stood rigidly at attention. The prince scowled at the sight of the pompous new commander and moved on.

  A few more turns and a few more minutes of walking found him at the entrance to the palace guards’ domain. Two men stood outside the door, guarding the guards. They sprang smartly to attention as Relam approached.

  “Your highness!” they chorused, bowing low. “How may we help you?”

  “I’m here to interview men for my personal guard,” Relam replied, stepping closer to the door. “May I go in?”

  “Just a moment, your highness, we’ll announce you,” one guard said quickly.

  “No need for that,” Relam protested. But the guard had already shoved the door open and strutted into the room. Relam reflected that this was probably one of Eckle’s recruits.

  “His highness, Prince Relam!” the guard cried, thumping the butt of his spear against the floor.

  Immediately, most of the room’s occupants surged to their feet. Those who didn’t were sound asleep in the bunks lining the perimeter of the room, probably catching up after late night shifts. The rest of the guards stood at attention, most out of uniform, a few in full armor and carrying weapons as though they were about to go onto guard duty.

  “At ease,” Relam said quickly. The room relaxed. “As you were,” Relam added.

  The guards exchanged uncertain glances, then went back to what they had been doing. Eight guards moved past Relam, murmuring greetings, and slipped out the door. The rest either sat back down on their bunks or around the tables in the center of the room. A babble of conversation started up, hardly interrupted by the prince’s arrival.

  “You can go,” Relam said curtly, dismissing the guard who had announced him. Then, he moved into the room, moving among the men, looking for any he knew.

  Familiar faces were few and far between though. He knew a few of the sleeping guards by sight but not by name. Most of those who were awake he had not met. There were a dozen or so playing cards at one of the tables, betting night shifts and talking loudly as they played. Relam recognized one or two faces there, but none well enough that he wanted them as his personal guard.

  Relam finally gave up looking. He would pick four of the guards he recognized by sight at random and take them as his guards. If only more of Narin’s old men were here, like the four who had helped Relam execute the former commander. They would have been more than satisfactory.

  As he had the thought, the door to the guard room opened and a dozen men entered, pulling off their helms as they did. They all looked exhausted, stumbling wearily to their bunks along the back wall.

  “I can’t take much more of this,” one complained bitterly to his neighbor. “The new commander’s got it in for us, mates.”

  “Ah, you’re imagining things,” another replied. “Somebody has to take the night shifts you know.”

  “Twelve-hour watches through the night, three nights in a row?” another demanded.

  “Wil, you gambled last night’s watch and lost,” another guard pointed out.

  “And you dumped the privy bucket in front of the commander’s door for a laugh,” the first guard added, shaking his head.

  “That’s how we welcome all of them!”

  “Not Narin.”

  “Well, he was different wasn’t he? He was one of us. A good man. I’m glad-”

  “Shh!” The others hushed him quickly. Relam crept closer, curiously, looking at their faces. He couldn’t be sure but maybe-

  “Your highness!”

  The guards snapped to attention, and the one called Wil turned around guiltily.

  “At ease,” Relam said, grinning. “Having trouble with the new commander?”

  The four guards exchanged looks. “He’s a pompous ass,” Wil said, spitting on the floor. The other three guards’ eyes widened and they stepped back a little.

  Relam nodded. “Yes, he is.”

  Wil grinned. “Glad to hear you agree with us, your highness.”

  Relam took a closer look at the four men in front of him. They were the ones who had helped him execute Narin, he was sure of it. And they were all younger men, he realized, surprised. Late twenties, early thirties. Exactly the type of men he needed. And if Eckle didn’t particularly care for them, he wouldn’t be sorry to see them transferred.

  “How would you like a new assignment?” Relam asked. “As my personal guard.”

  The four exchanged glances. “That would suit us down to the ground,” Wil declared, saluting Relam. The others followed suit, snapping to attention once more.

  Relam grinned in reply. “Excellent,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I’ll see if I can arrange for different quarters for you, assuming you would like to be away from Commander Eckle for a while?”

  “That would be welcome,” one of the other guards said, nodding. “Thank you, your highness.”

  Relam held up his hands. “One thing we need to get straight,” he said brusquely. The guards froze, afraid they’d done something wrong. “No more ‘your highness’,” Relam continued, smiling as the guards relaxed. “It gets a little tiresome. If you absolutely have to, you can call me ‘sir’. Does that work for all of you?”

  “Yes, sir!” four voices chorused impudently.

  “One last thing,” Relam said. “I need to know your names. You’re Wil,” he said, gesturing to the first guard. “I heard that. But who are you other three?”

  “Galen,” a guard with a bushy black beard replied immediately.

  “Eric,” a bald guard said, stepping forward.

  “Telegaranitnat,” the last guard said proudly, raking his shoulder length brown hair back.

  Relam hesitated, not quite sure he had heard right. “Could you repeat that?”

  “His name’s Johann,” Eric grunted. “And he’s an idiot.”

  “Oh,” Relam said, peering at Johann more closely. “If you say so.”

  “He was in on the privy bucket escapade,” Galen added, sliding a look at Wil.

  “He was asking for it,” Wil put in. “Narin was a much better commander.”

  “I agree,” Relam said, lowering his voice. “But it would be best if we did not appear overly fond of the deceased commander for the time being. Clear?”

  “Aye,” Johann agreed.

  Relam briefly wondered if he really wanted these men as guards. Then, he mentally shrugged. At least they would be mildly entertaining. And they had no use for Eckle which was an added bonus.

  “Right, I’ll go and speak to the commander about transferring you, then find you new quarters. For now, just take the empty guest rooms on the same hallway as the royal suite.” He looked around the guard room curiously. “Where is the commander’s quarters?”

  “Down the hall two doors,” Wil supplied. “On the right.”

  “But he won’t be there now,” Eric said. “He’ll be guarding the king.”

  “Oh, yes,” Wil said, nodding. “He will be.”

  “I’ll find him,” Relam promised. “Anything else I’m forgetting?”

  “There might be one more thing,” Wil said, an evil grin spreading over his features. “Assuming that the cleaning staff hasn’t been through yet this morning.”

  “Not again, Wil,” Eric groaned.

  “Well, if we’re not here we can’t be blamed,” Wil said ingenuously, all wide-eyed innocence.
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  “Sir, permission to smack Wil?” Eric asked, exasperated.

  “Permission denied,” Relam replied briskly. “I need him in one piece. Besides, I think a little parting gift for the new commander is in order. He needs to learn how to earn the respect of his men, does he not?”

  “Yes, he certainly does,” Wil agreed, bobbing his head.

  “One hundred percent,” Johann concurred.

  Eric and Galen exchanged a look, then shrugged in unison. “Why not?” Eric said at last. “A last rebellious act, in honor of our fallen commander.”

  “Here, here!” Wil and Johann chorused.

  Relam winked at them. “Don’t let anyone catch you,” he warned. “Officially, I was never here.”

  “No worries, sir,” Wil said cheerfully. “Nobody will ever trace it back to you. Or us, for that matter. I’ve got a foolproof plan.”

  “Just as well,” Eric muttered. “Since you and Johann are going to be a part of it.”

  Relam left the guards to their own devices and exited the barracks, shaking his head. Now, all he had to do was beat down Eckle’s objections and make the whole thing official. He took a deep breath, and headed for the audience hall, where he had no doubt his father, Clemon, and Eckle would be waiting.

  Chapter 29

  Relam peeked around the door to the audience hall. Sure enough, they were there. The king, his chatelain, and the commander, all exactly as they had been when Relam passed by nearly an hour ago.

  The prince slid around the door and into the audience hall. As before, the lanterns were extinguished, the only light filtering in from the clerestory above. His footsteps echoed in the empty hall, rebounding off the walls and ceiling.

  “Father,” Relam said, bowing slightly. “I must speak with commander Eckle for a few moments.”

  The king stirred, lifting his gaze from the floor to look at Relam. “Speak,” he commanded, his voice low and quiet.

  Relam shifted uncomfortably. He had hoped to separate his opposition, divide and conquer as it were. “I have decided on four men to serve as my personal guard,” he announced, glancing at Eckle.