The Prince (Heirs of Legacy Book 1)

by Paul Lauritsen

  “I can believe it, because I have known Ryker Thius for a long time, longer than any of you,” Hadere said heavily. “We grew up together. We were both from families that were on the border between nobility and commoner. We both wanted to raise our station in life, both dreamed of being people of importance in this world. I sought that importance in the guard, and succeeded.” The commander looked around at the others. “But Ryker was not so gifted at fighting. He was, though, a skilled orator and shrewd negotiator. He had a way about him, a way of persuading people to see things his way. He started out serving a minor noble in the Assembly, networking with other nobles along the way and accumulating a strong following. When next it was time to add members to the Assembly, he was a unanimous selection. Since then, he has worked his way up from new member to the Head of the Assembly and its Council.”

  “He was ambitious,” Relam observed.

  “Extremely,” Hadere agreed, nodding. “I reached the rank of commander and stopped. There was nowhere else to go. Ryker, on the other hand, I’m sure he dreamed of moving beyond the Assembly, of becoming something even greater. The next king of the Sthan Kingdom.”

  “That makes sense,” Relam said slowly. “But why not act sooner?”

  “Because he did not know how,” Hadere replied. “Remember, he had spent his life moving up the ladder in the Assembly. But there is no power ladder to the throne. It is inherited, father to son. He needed to not only gain support, but find a way to depose the sitting king and all potential heirs. So his aspirations were frustrated, and he had to wait.”

  “Until D’Arnlo came along, looking for support to take the throne for himself,” Relam murmured. “It all makes sense, but we won’t know if it is the truth until we talk to Lord Thius.”

  “You’re right, of course,” Hadere said quickly. “But trust me, that is what happened. I see no other reason why Ryker would join D’Arnlo’s scheme.”

  “Anyway,” Relam continued hurriedly, aware of passing time. “There’s still more to the story. I haven’t told you anything about this morning’s battle.”

  He outlined his confrontation with D’Arnlo, and how the lordlings had chosen to join him rather than the traitor. He spoke briefly of the fight, the many Citadel guards they had to overcome, and finally the duel of the masters. When he had finished, Relam sat back, quite out of breath.

  “Stunning,” Hadere murmured. “You did well, your majesty. I am most impressed.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Wil muttered. “What a fight. Wish that I could have been here.”

  “The problem is, what do we do next?” Relam said, glancing at Oreius.

  “It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

  Relam turned in surprise to find the source of the low, bitter voice. Cevet was standing behind Relam, hands balled up in fists, staring at the ground.

  “We go to arrest my father,” he said, looking up. “We need to do it before the Assembly meets this evening. Then, you can show up in his place and explain everything to them.”

  “Cevet,” Relam said, making an uncertain little gesture with his hands.

  “It has to be done,” the lordling replied, his jaw set. “And I’m coming with you.”

  Relam nodded reluctantly. “I can’t stop you,” he said finally. “But this will be hard on all of us. I can’t imagine what it will be like for you.”

  “I’ll manage,” Cevet replied curtly. “Let’s just get it over with.”

  “As you wish,” Relam replied. “Commander Eckle, stay here and assist Narin with the cleanup. Any guards that were disabled or disarmed in the battle need to be held under guard until we decide what to do with them. Send for more of the palace guards as well. We’ll make this our new base of operations for the time being.”

  “Yes, your majesty,” Eckle replied, bowing.

  Relam looked around and his eyes fell on Yavvis and Tar, standing a little apart from the others and talking quietly. “Yavvis, Tar!” he called.

  “Yes?” Tar said, turning.

  “Help Narin get the Citadel back in order. Commander Hadere, lock down the city.”

  “Again?”

  “Again,” Relam agreed, nodding. “If there are more traitors in our midst, we can’t let them get away. Keep the city locked down until I give the word. Nobody goes in or out, even through the harbor.”

  “Understood, your majesty.”

  “Cevet, Oreius, you’re with me. And you four,” he added, addressing his personal guards. He turned to face the lordlings. “Sebast, you and the others go home to your parents. Tell them what happened here, but don’t mention Thius yet.”

  “Are you sure?” Sebast asked. “You don’t want to wait until they are all gathered at the Assembly?”

  “No,” Relam said, shaking his head. “I’m expecting resistance from the great lords, particularly your father. I want you to start leaning on them now, start persuading them to follow me.”

  “I’ll do it,” Sebast promised. “Whatever it takes.”

  Relam flashed a grateful grin at the lordling. How quickly things had changed since their days as cadets. “Thanks, Sebast. Now,” he said, turning back to the group he had selected to go to the Thius estate. “It’s time to pay Lord Thius a visit.”

  Chapter 45

  Cevet’s home was on the River Road, close by the palace itself. It was a wealthy neighborhood, certainly, but not quite as impressive as the domains of the four great lords. The Thius house was the largest and most well-appointed on the block, situated on a lot that was slightly deeper than the others due to the curvature of the river’s path to the sea. The house itself stretched from one end of the lot to the other, three stories of stone and marble with a shingle roof. A smooth stone path ran from the road to the front door, flanked by narrow bands of grass and a pair of splashing fountains.

  “Not bad,” Oreius murmured as they passed between the fountains. “A spot of color would do this place a world of good though.”

  “Stay focused,” Relam muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

  “Sorry,” Oreius replied. “Cevet, are you sure your father will be home?”

  “I don’t know where else he would be,” the lordling replied, shrugging.

  “Then I guess we better knock,” Relam decided, stepping up onto the front porch. He reached out with his right hand, grasped the heavy metal knocker, and slammed it down three times.

  The small group waited there, frozen in time and space, waiting for the moment when the door would open and the confrontation would begin. Several seconds passed. Then, finally, Relam heard someone approach, slide the bolt securing the door back, and turn the latch. The portal swung open, revealing a tall spare man, totally bald and clad in a servant’s uniform.

  “Your majesty!” he said immediately, bowing before Relam. “What an unexpected honor. Welcome to the Thius household. How may I help you?”

  “I need to speak to Lord Thius,” Relam said quietly, trying to keep his voice from carrying through into the house.

  “Lord Thius is busy at the moment,” the servant said loudly. “Shall I see if he can be interrupted to speak with you?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Cevet said, stepping forward. “We’ll just go speak with him now. No need for you to go to him, Rhone.”

  “Master Cevet!” Rhone bowed again. “Welcome home. Your father is most anxious to speak with you.”

  “Is he?” Cevet asked bitterly. “That would be a first.”

  The servant, Rhone, must have sensed from Cevet’s tone that something was amiss. He stood uncertainly in the doorway, one hand still on the door, as though he were debating whether to shut it again.

  “Rhone,” Cevet said quietly. “Let us in.”

  Rhone hesitated a moment longer, then stepped aside. “Are you sure you would not like me to announce you?” he asked. “Lord Thius would want to prepare-”

  “I know,” Relam said grimly. “That’s why we came without sending word ahead first.”

  “I�
�m not sure I understand,” the servant said nervously, wringing his hands.

  “Rhone,” Cevet said. “Just tell us where my father is right now.”

  “In his study, as far as I know.”

  “Thank you,” Cevet said. “Come on, Relam, I’ll show you the way.”

  “Allow me-”

  “No,” Cevet told Rhone sternly. “You will go and find my father’s guards. Tell them that my orders are to keep anyone from entering or leaving the house until I give the word. That includes my father.”

  “My young master, I-”

  Cevet drew the servant aside, speaking quietly and quickly. “My father has betrayed the crown, Rhone. He is now a fugitive. I only tell you this so that you will obey. His orders mean nothing now. I am in control. Is that clear?”

  Relam could tell Rhone was bursting with questions, but the servant managed to keep them to himself for the moment. “Perfectly, master Cevet,” he replied instead, bowing low one more time.

  “Good,” Cevet muttered. “Come on, Relam. We have an appointment with my father.”

  Cevet took the lead, marching up a gently curving staircase in the main foyer to the second level. There, they turned onto a paneled hallway with a dark wood floor. At the end of that hallway was a wide door flanked by two guards. At least, Relam assumed they were guards. There were swords at the men’s sides but they wore no armor or helms. Instead, they wore ceremonial robes and carried long, iron-shod staffs. As Relam’s group approached, the guards crossed their staffs in front of the door with an impressive crack!

  “Step aside,” Cevet commanded, glaring at the guards. “I need to speak to my father.

  “Sorry, sir,” one of the guards said. “None can enter. Your father has commanded it.”

  Cevet drew his sword, leveling it at the guard. Oreius and Relam’s guards followed suit before either of Lord Thius’ guards could react.

  “Stand down,” Cevet said quietly.

  “Yes, sir,” the other guard said, stepping aside quickly.

  “Shall we announce you?” the first guard asked.

  “I think I am capable of announcing myself, and my guests,” Cevet growled. “You are dismissed, gentlemen.”

  The guards exchanged an uncertain look, then shrugged and wandered off down the hall with many a backwards glance.

  “What’s the plan?” Relam murmured to Cevet.

  “I’ll go in alone,” Cevet replied in undertone. “My father will be more forthcoming if he thinks I am here on my own. You and the others can listen at the door, to hear what all he was guilty of.”

  “That’s extremely deceptive,” Oreius observed.

  “He’s a traitor,” Cevet said bluntly. “And we need to know who all was working with him and D’Arnlo.”

  “Fair point. But how good an actor are you?” Relam asked, frowning.

  “I’ll manage,” Cevet replied.

  “Look nervous but committed,” Oreius advised. “Like you’re not sure about your father’s decisions, but you trust him anyway.”

  “Got it,” Cevet said. “Better get against the walls so you’re not seen when I go in. I’ll call for you at some point.”

  “And we’ll come running,” Relam promised.

  “All right,” Cevet said, taking a deep breath and shaking himself slightly. “Everyone in position?”

  Relam and the others melted back against the wall. Cevet gave the young prince a brief nod, then stepped up to the door, pushing it open slightly and poking his head in. "Father?” he asked uncertainly.

  “Son,” Relam heard Lord Thius answer. “I’m glad you’re here. Have you come alone?”

  “Yes,” Cevet said warily, hovering anxiously.

  “Come in, come in,” his father said. “And shut the door, there’s a good lad.”

  Cevet slipped into the room and shut the door. The moment he had, Relam and Oreius ghosted to the portal and put their ears against it.

  “Shouldn’t you still be at training?” Relam heard Lord Thius ask.

  “D’Arnlo let us out early today,” Cevet replied quickly. A little too quickly to Relam’s ears. “The Citadel has been called on to help with the search.”

  “The search?”

  “For the prince.”

  “Oh, yes.” There was an awkward pause, then the sound of someone moving across a hard floor. “Cevet, did you wonder why I went to speak with Master D’Arnlo this morning?”

  “Not really, sir. It’s your business, not mine after all.”

  “Quite so. But it does concern you as well. I think now is the time to tell you.”

  “Tell me what?”

  Relam frowned, and glanced at Oreius. The old warrior’s brow was furrowed as he concentrated on the conversation going on in the office.

  “Cevet, do you know how I became the Head of the Assembly of Nobles?”

  “You worked hard.”

  “Precisely,” Lord Thius replied. “I worked longer and harder than everyone else. I used my gifts of persuasion and social skills to climb the ladder. And I never considered anything to be impossible or beyond my reach. No matter what sort of obstacle had been placed in my path.”

  A moment of silence. Then, Cevet spoke again. “What does this have to do with me?”

  “A little over a year ago, I had the courage to take a new sort of step,” Lord Thius said. Relam could picture the pompous man pacing earnestly behind his desk. He could also hear slow, regular footsteps that suggested Lord Thius was doing just that.

  “I have been working with Master D’Arnlo to move up for the last time,” the renegade lord continued.

  “For the last time? I thought you said you never stopped dreaming and working to move up? And where is there to move up to after Head of the Assembly? Do you intend to be king’s chatelain or something?”

  Relam covered his mouth and nose with one hand to stifle a laugh. Ryker Thius as the king’s chatelain? He was far too capable and opinionated for such a role. Oreius gave Relam a warning glare and held a finger to his lips.

  “No, no, you misunderstand me, son,” Lord Thius was saying now. “The king’s chatelain is little more than a glorified servant, hovering about the king, constantly obeying orders and taking care of minor pieces of work so that the king does not have to. It is a tiresome, thankless position. No, Cevet, that is not the step Master D’Arnlo and I are taking. We are taking the ultimate step. And as for ending my dreams of moving up, there is nowhere to go once you reach the top.”

  “I still don’t understand-”

  “Cevet,” Lord Thius said quietly. “D’Arnlo and I are going to be kings.”

  “Kings?” Cevet whispered.

  “That’s right.”

  Relam wondered what was going through Cevet’s head, if the lordling’s acting would hold up to the traitor’s scrutiny. Cevet was not what Relam would call a consummate actor, after all. And if he should be exposed would Relam and the others be able to get there in time?

  “Kings?” Cevet asked again. “That is ambitious, father. But how will you go about accomplishing that goal?”

  “We already have,” Lord Thius replied, chuckling. “It took longer than we expected, yes, but it is done now. The current line has been wiped out.”

  “Wiped out? You were the ones behind the assassination attempts!”

  “And not a soul ever suspected us,” Lord Thius replied. Relam pictured the traitor drawing himself up proudly, trying to look impressive.

  “I certainly didn’t,” Cevet murmured. “This is quite the surprise, father. I must say, I’m impressed. You even took care of the prince.”

  Lord Thius hesitated for a moment. “Yes, son. Young Relam is no longer an . . . obstacle.”

  “Splendid,” Cevet replied enthusiastically. “So, you and D’Arnlo will be kings. Does that make me heir to the throne?”

  “Of course,” Lord Thius said. “D’Arnlo has no heirs of his own. When he and I are gone, you will be the ruler of the Sthan Kingdom.”


  “Wow,” Cevet breathed quietly. “A king. This is beyond anything I ever dreamed.”

  “Soak it in, son,” Lord Thius said eagerly. “I did this for you. So that you would have a bright future ahead of you, instead of a future of servitude to a weak line of kings.”

  Relam’s jaw tightened and he felt an overwhelming desire to run into the office and seize Lord Thius by the neck. But he didn’t, knowing that Cevet would get more information out of his father if he gave him time.

  “Who else was involved?” Cevet asked, drawing Relam back to the moment. “Just the two of you?”

  “A few others were necessary accomplices,” Lord Thius replied airily. “Some low-lifes who ran messages. The assassins who carried out the deeds, of course. A half-dozen military officers in the Citadel. Why do you ask?”

  “I just want to know who I am beholden to for this great gift,” Cevet replied. “Although, I admit, it is difficult to be beholden to military men.” He said the last two words as though they left a bad taste in his mouth.

  “Then just thank D’Arnlo and I,” Lord Thius suggested. “That should be easy enough.”

  “Yes,” Cevet agreed. “Thank you, father.”

  “Well, then,” Lord Thius harrumphed. “That’s all settled then. You’ll be named heir to the throne once it is confirmed that the old line is ended. Until then, keep this to yourself. Wouldn’t want word getting out that this whole thing was orchestrated, right?”

  “Right,” Cevet agreed. “Father, what about D’Arnlo?”

  “What about him?”

  “He has some strange ideas, that’s all.”

  “You mean he’s a supremacist.”

  “Yes.”

  There was a long silence. “Cevet, Master D’Arnlo and I plan to remake the Sthan Kingdom. We could be much stronger if society were more ordered.”

  “Some would say we are very strong already.”

  “And they would be wrong. You know about the miner riots in Mizzran and the lawlessness on the southern sea. Why, there are bandits in the Midwood even, right here by the capital. And there’s no telling what was responsible for the death of old King Orram.”