The Prince (Heirs of Legacy Book 1)

by Paul Lauritsen

“And I never will,” Oreius said firmly. “Not until my time comes and I leave this world for good.”

  Relam looked up at the sky and was surprised to find that it was only an hour or so until the day would be over. Oreius noticed his glance and looked up, gauging the time as well.

  “We may as well call it a day,” he decided, setting his mug down. “You learned more important lessons from us talking than I could ever teach you with a sword. Tomorrow, come back ready to get back to work.”

  “I will,” Relam promised. “Oreius, thank you for telling me all of this.”

  “It’s my duty as a teacher,” the old man said with a wry grin. “I have to make sure that you will not repeat the mistakes I made in my youth.”

  The old warrior turned and began walking slowly back to the house, effectively dismissing Relam. The prince hesitated, thought about returning to the palace, then went instead to the stone bench and sat on it, closing his eyes.

  When his guards arrived an hour later, they found the prince still sitting there, eyes closed, legs drawn up underneath him. They went to turn away, but Relam stopped them.

  “Don’t go.”

  The guards turned back, a little embarrassed. “Sorry to disturb you, sir,” he heard Eric say. “But it’s time we were getting back to the palace.”

  Relam nodded and got to his feet, smiling. “Yes, it is. Thank you for fetching me.”

  “What were you doing there on the bench?” Johann asked curiously, looking around the garden.

  “Learning,” Relam replied. Then, without any other explanation, he led the way back to the palace.

  Chapter 32

  They had hardly left Oreius’ house, barely passed Tar Agath’s facility, before Relam was hailed by a young voice. He turned, seeking the source, and saw five young men leaving the Citadel, just emerging from the front gate. The lordlings, Jatt, Sebast, Delan, Knet, and Cevet. They were all wearing their swords and padded practice gear, leather helmets tucked under their arms.

  “Well, look who it is,” Sebast drawled. “Good to see you, your highness.”

  Relam’s guards stiffened, sensing the hostility from the lordling. “Go back to the palace,” Relam told them. “I’ll be along shortly.”

  “Sir-”

  “Go, Eric, and you, Johann. I won’t confront him with armed guards standing by ready to intimidate.”

  “You could just not confront him,” Eric muttered rebelliously.

  “Go,” Relam said calmly. “That’s an order.”

  Johann shrugged. “I trust the prince,” he decided, wandering back towards the palace. “He’s been training with that old bear Oreius, he can handle himself.”

  “Against five?” Eric protested.

  “Not five,” Relam replied, eying Cevet. “Four. And I have an ally in their midst.”

  Eric grunted. “Fine. But if you get in trouble, I won’t trust you a second time. And that one,” he added, nodding to Sebast, “Will pay for it.”

  “I gladly await that moment,” Relam said, smiling. “Now, get going.”

  Eric hitched up his sword belt and marched after Johann, muttering about foolhardy and idiotic princes. Relam wisely let the comments slide and moved to join the lordlings, standing in the shadow of the Citadel.

  “About time,” Sebast growled. “Where are they going, reinforcements?”

  “No,” Relam said, smiling thinly. “I sent them home. There’s no need for an escort now that you lot are here. I should be quite safe.”

  Cevet smirked knowingly and looked away. Delan and Knet looked perplexed. Garenes sneered openly.

  “You think you’re something special, don’t you, your highness?” Sebast growled. “Training with Oreius instead of D’Arnlo, challenging the rest of us to do the same.”

  “How did that go for you?” Relam asked innocently.

  Sebast scowled. “I never applied,” he lied. “It was a foolish challenge. And as such there was no reason to accept it or see it through.”

  “Really?” Relam asked skeptically. “Fascinating. You had better hope that Oreius doesn’t teach me too much, Sebast. Otherwise you might find yourself in the river again.”

  Cevet snorted with laughter and Sebast flushed angrily. “Watch it, princeling,” he warned. “We’re all trained warriors, and by the look of your rearranged face you aren’t.”

  “Trained warriors?” Relam asked, pretending to be impressed. “D’Arnlo works quickly. Didn’t you start training just this morning?”

  “Yeah,” Cevet said with a shrug. “But we reviewed all the stuff Tar taught us so we’re basically experts.”

  “No, we’re not,” Jatt broke in, frowning. “We have years of training to go.”

  “Well spoken,” Relam said, bowing slightly in Jatt’s direction. “But Cevet spoke only in jest, Jatt.”

  “You mean he was kidding?”

  “If you prefer it that way, yes.”

  Jatt nodded slowly. “I knew that,” he proclaimed, daring anyone to contradict him.

  “What about you, Sebast?” Relam asked, dropping his hand to the hilt of his sword. “Do you feel like an expert?”

  “I’m better than you at any rate,” the lordling snarled.

  Relam raised an eyebrow. “On what grounds?”

  “Let it go, Sebast,” Knet urged. Beside him, Delan nodded agreement.

  “No,” Garenes snarled. “I’ve had enough of him pretending he’s better than the rest of us because he was born in a palace and we weren’t. I’m sick of it. We will be great lords one day, except for Jatt and Cevet, we deserve better than this.”

  “Would you like to prove who is better once and for all?” Relam asked. “I believe Tar’s last class just got out. I’m sure he would let us use his training ground.”

  “Don’t do it Sebast,” Knet urged.

  Sebast waved Knet’s warning aside. “Fine,” he decided. “I’ll beat you quickly.”

  Relam bowed slightly. “As you wish. Before we begin though, I would like to propose that no matter the outcome, we drop these petty squabbles between us.” He eyed the rest of the lordlings. “All of us. One day, as Sebast pointed out, we will be the leaders of this kingdom. Three of you will be great lords, and though Cevet and Jatt are not of great lord houses they will go on to do great things as well. We will have to work together. As men and respected lords, not children.”

  Knet and Delan shuffled their feet, avoiding Relam’s eyes. Cevet looked intrigued by this turn of events, and was fingering his chin as though calculating the odds that this gambit would have any effect on the way things stood. Jatt was confused, but this was nothing new. Relam fixed his eyes on Sebast though, wondering what his reaction would be. The lordling merely rolled his eyes.

  “Fine,” he said again. “Let’s settle this. Once and for all.”

  “You give your word?”

  “If I must.”

  “And the rest of you?”

  “Aye,” Cevet said immediately.

  “Aye,” Knet and Delan chorused defiantly.

  “Aye what?” Jatt asked, blinking stupidly.

  Relam decided that Jatt’s response would have to do. “Very well. Let’s proceed.”

  They started off towards Tar’s training ground, ignoring Jatt’s protest, “Home is the other way, isn’t it?” In mere moments, they were at the front gate. A few students were trickling out, but the majority were still inside, talking amongst themselves. Tar himself was demonstrating a trick to disarm an opponent to a trio of interested observers, among them the tall athletic boy Relam had noticed on his previous visits. Aven was also in the small group, frowning with concentration.

  As the lordlings entered with Relam, the babble of chatter slowed, then eventually died out. Many of the students had been present when Cevet and Relam had fought two weeks earlier, and were curious what Tar’s former students were doing here so late in the afternoon. As the chatter died away, Tar stopped his demonstration and looked around, puzzled. His eyes lit on Rel
am and he started to smile. Then, his expression turned guarded as he saw who accompanied him.

  “Your highness,” the sword master said, bowing slightly. “Welcome, as always.”

  “Thank you, Tar,” Relam murmured.

  Master Agath turned abruptly to face Sebast. “I told you never to come here again,” he said flatly.

  Sebast stood his ground defiantly, his face flaming. The other cadets had all heard Tar’s words and were whispering amongst themselves, wondering what Relam’s companion had done to get himself banned from the facility. Relam ignored the whisperers and stepped closer to Tar, lowering his voice.

  “It was my idea. We need to put this behind us, now. All of us,” he added, looking meaningfully at the sword master.

  Tar did not miss the significance of Relam’s words. He cocked his head curiously, studying the prince. Relam wondered what his old teacher was looking for. Some sign of Oreius’ influence, perhaps?

  “Are you ready, Sebast?” Relam asked, scooping up two practice swords and tossing one to the lordling.

  “Don’t you want gear?” Sebast asked.

  Relam shook his head. “I’ll fight as I am. You can wear the gear if you want.”

  Garenes hesitated, then tossed his helmet to Knet and stripped off his padded jerkin. “I don’t want anyone complaining that it wasn’t an even fight,” he said, smiling thinly. “Especially when you lose.”

  “You are ready, then?”

  Sebast nodded, raising his blade.

  “Begin,” Relam said.

  Predictably, Sebast attacked first. The lordling wanted to assert his dominance, and the best way to do that was to win the fight quickly and decisively. He came after Relam using the practice patterns Tar had taught them all as cadets. It was a precise, powerful attack but not a particularly skilled one. Relam could see, thanks to his time with Oreius, that Sebast’s timing was slightly off and that his blows were not achieving maximum effect. Relam parried calmly, standing his ground, not retreating so much as an inch.

  Sebast continued to attack and continued to fail, foiled at every turn by Relam’s blade, deflecting his thrusts, parrying his cuts, blocking his overhead strikes. Finally, Sebast locked his blade with Relam’s and they shoved back and forth, each trying to gain the upper hand. Sebast, realizing that he was not making up any ground, disengaged eventually and backed away.

  Relam held his sword loosely in one hand, watching Sebast. So far, there hadn’t been anything he couldn’t handle. But there was a chance, albeit a slim one, that Sebast could get lucky. Relam needed to go on the offensive to make sure that didn’t happen. The prince advanced slowly, holding his sword point down and slightly out to the side.

  Sebast raised his own practice blade and shuffled his feet uncertainly, faltering before Relam’s implacable stare. The prince continued to move forward at the same pace, perfectly calm and at ease with the situation. Sebast meanwhile was clenching his sword in both hands and his eyes were darting everywhere, waiting for an attack.

  As he drew within striking distance, Relam lashed out with a thrust. Sebast deflected it, then ducked as Relam’s sword whistled through the space where his head had been. He parried an overhead cut next, then clumsily blocked another cut.

  All the while Relam kept up his unwavering stare and outward calm. He and Sebast circled for a moment, trading places. Then, Relam attacked again, using the patterns that Tar had taught him. But he did them at Oreius’ speed.

  The prince lunged forward, thrusting and hacking, his blade there one moment and gone the next, too quickly for the eye to follow. Sebast tried to parry, but rarely made contact with the wooden practice sword. Relam pulled all of the blows though, just as he would if he were doing the patterns as part of a drill. The practice sword came close to striking Sebast, but not too close. And it was always moving, appearing and disappearing, striking and withdrawing, a brown blur that came from everywhere and nowhere. Sebast looked around wildly, trying to understand what was happening. Relam did not look around but kept his eyes calmly fixed on Sebast.

  Finally, the prince decided it was time to end the fight. He executed the tenth pattern at top speed, then lunged forward, sliding his blade along Sebast’s until it struck the hilt. Then, he twisted his practice sword and ripped Sebast’s from his grip. The lordling looked up stunned as his practice sword spun through the air, landing in Relam’s outstretched left hand.

  For a moment, there was stunned silence. Then, pandemonium broke out as the cadets burst into applause and cheers, chattering to each other excitedly. The other lordlings did not react so exuberantly. Knet and Delan were wide-eyed, silent observers, and even Cevet looked a little taken aback by the speed and skill Relam had displayed. But Relam watched Sebast. The young Garenes was breathing heavily, but in his eyes Relam saw shock and disappointment. Then, the other boy’s shoulders slumped.

  Relam set the two practice swords aside and extended his hand. Sebast hesitated, eying it, then shook decisively, grimacing and closing his eyes as though it pained him. Then, shaking his head, the lordling scooped up his practice gear and stepped out of the spotlight to lick his wounds.

  Relam turned and found the other lordlings practically on top of him. “We move forward today,” he announced, shaking hands with each of them. “As friends. And allies.”

  Knet and Delan nodded, bowing slightly. Cevet inclined his head gravely, then grinned, unable to contain his exuberance. Jatt nodded ponderously, and enveloped Relam’s hand in a crushing grip. The prince had to check and make sure all of his fingers were still intact when he finally extricated himself from the handshake. As he did, Tar Agath stepped forward.

  “Well done,” he said quietly. “All of you,” he added, looking around the circle of young faces. “A year ago, I would not have believed this day to be possible. You’ve all come very far in that time.”

  The lordlings murmured their thanks. “Now, get going,” Tar said, grinning.

  The lordlings laughed and started for the gate that led out onto the River Road. Relam hung back, not wanting to change everything too suddenly. Better to give them time to get used to it all, he thought. He glanced back at Sebast, and saw that the young heir of the Garenes house was slumped dejectedly on a bench, Tar Agath standing beside him. As he watched, Tar sat beside his former pupil and said something quietly. Sebast looked up, disbelief and surprise written in every line of his expression. He spoke tentatively, a question perhaps, and Tar responded with a grave nod. Then, to Relam’s amazement, Sebast stood, bowed to the sword master, and made for the exit, nodding to Relam as he went.

  “What did you tell him?” Relam asked as Tar Agath stood once more.

  “I told him that I am proud of the courage he displayed, to put aside the past,” Tar replied. “I told him I was proud of how he had grown, and that he is welcome here any time.” He paused, reflecting for a moment, then went on. “You did good work here today, Relam. You young ones are the future of this kingdom. And now it is a future united.”

  “It wasn’t just me,” Relam said, shrugging. “I couldn’t have done it if Oreius had not shown me the way.”

  “Oh? What way was that?”

  Relam smiled. “Ask him about it. Better yet, visit his garden and think on it. I’m sure it will come to you.”

  Tar shook his head. “I’m impressed, Relam. You have moved beyond my humble teachings to something greater. Something much, much greater.”

  The sword master bowed slightly, and moved off to gather his pupils and send them home. Relam stood there a moment longer, savoring the scene of happiness and peace. Then he turned and began making his way back to the palace. There was still another battle to be resolved.

  Night was falling by the time Relam trotted up the palace steps, nodding to the guards as he passed. Inside the palace itself the servants were just starting to light lanterns in all of the corridors to stave off the darkness. Relam climbed the staircase to the next level and followed the familiar path home, eventu
ally ending up in front of the door to the royal suite. Four guards stood at the entrance, none of them Relam’s, so he went past and knocked on the first of the guest rooms he had assigned to his personal guards. There was a brief pause, then the door swung open to reveal Eric, still dressed for battle.

  “You made it back,” he observed. “Did you settle the lordling?”

  Relam smiled slightly. “Yes. Permanently.”

  Eric’s eyes widened and Relam hastened to explain. “I didn’t kill him,” he said quickly. “It’s just that we have settled our differences. All of us. They are no longer my enemies.”

  “Ah, well, that’s good,” Eric said. “I’ll tell the others you’re back I suppose. Anything else, sir?”

  “That’s all,” Relam replied. “See you in the morning.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The door swung shut and Relam heard the bolt slam home, securing the entrance. Smiling slightly, Relam returned to the door to the royal suite, pushing through it. Just across the threshold, he froze.

  His father was waiting, standing by the dining alcove, where a veritable feast had been laid out. The king noticed Relam and turned to face him immediately, wringing his hands anxiously.

  “Son,” he said, his voice catching slightly. “Can . . . can we talk?”

  Relam nodded. “Any time, father.”

  The king released a shaky laugh and gestured to the armchairs around the fireplace. “We’ll eat in a moment,” he said. “Unless you want to clean up first-”

  “That can wait,” Relam said, cutting him off. “It’s been a long day.”

  “Yes,” his father agreed. “It has.”

  Relam waited for his father to continue the conversation, but he seemed to be at a loss for words. Finally, Relam decided to broach the subject himself. “Is this about the fight last weekend?”

  His father’s head jerked up, and they stared at each other for a long moment, the king’s eyes full of guilt and sadness, the prince’s betraying nothing.

  “I’m so, so, sorry,” Relam’s father whispered. “I don’t know what happened to me when . . . when your mother died. There is no way to describe the pain, no words to help you understand the abyss inside.” His voice broke and his eyes filled with tears again. “I was helpless,” he whispered. “Helpless and hopeless. And then came the anger, and it dragged me out of the depths, but in that span I did some things I fear were unforgiveable.”