The Heir Of Westfall [The Alurian Chronicles Book 1]

by Christopher W. Wilcox, Sr.

  "As you will, Your Majesty."

  * * * *

  Rory went for a walk in the town to get his mind off his problems, knowing somewhere behind him lurked Swiftstalker, watching over him. As he walked along, he talked with those townspeople he met, gaining a feel for how they all felt about the morning's trial and execution. Everyone he spoke with was very adamant about the king's justice, although some felt that making the general carry out the sentence was a bit harsh; they all knew the general was a good and fair man. It spoke well of the duke and his heir that people would speak openly in disagreement with the king without fear of reprisal.

  When he returned to the keep, he met with his grandfather and told his grandfather what he had learned. The duke said, “The people are wrong, Rory. The king was right. This is a lesson General Gustav had to learn; that his duty to the people overrides that to a temporary authority. When that authority becomes capricious, arbitrary, or steeped in abuse, then its moral foundation is gone and the implicit contract to obey it has become void. There is no such thing as divine right. We nobles hold our position based on the authority given to us by the people we serve. Never forget that."

  The king's voice came from the back of the library. “Those words apply to us all, Lord Rorrick, whether duke or king. Those who forget them tend to have short reigns."

  "Your Majesty! I did not know you were there,” Rory said, apprehensively.

  "We know, but we heard what you told your grandfather and they were words we needed to hear. His response to you was even more important for even we need to have that thought repeated every so often,” King William said. “On to another subject. The queen has asked for you both to join us for a quiet dinner. We warn you, Rorrick, that the subject of the dinner will be your engagement to Lady Bethany, who will also be there tonight. The queen has already arranged everything with your marvelous Mistress Margaret."

  * * * *

  Rory had been bathed, scrubbed, and dressed in his finest clothes for his dinner with the king and queen. He looked over at Swiftstalker and said, “Well, do I pass muster?"

  "You look fine, Rory. Just remember not to eat with your hands and you'll be fine,” Swiftstalker said.

  "I would never eat with my hands!"

  "I know that, but tonight when you feel tense, you will remember that comment and you'll smile inside and that will help you relax."

  Duke Richard knocked at Rory's door and said, “Ready, lad? Mustn't keep the queen waiting."

  * * * *

  Mistress Margaret had arranged for a round dining table with five chairs so there was no question about precedence in the seating. The king and queen sat beside each other with the duke on the king's other side. Rory sat next to the queen while Bethany sat between Rory and his grandfather. Rory had little memory of the conversation over dinner; he spent most of the time lost in a fog that had descended over his senses the moment he had locked gazes with Bethany. He remembered the toast to their future offered by the queen and they had linked arms to drink from one another's cup. From that moment on, he imagined he could feel her lips on his cup whenever he drank from it.

  At one point, Bethany had reached over and laid her hand on his, and he gently took hold of her fingers. They were long, elegant fingers with tapered nails. She wore a simple ring with a small pearl on her ring finger. His whole awareness sank to the point where their hands joined together.

  Finally, the dinner came to an end and the queen suggested that Rory and Bethany take a walk to enjoy some time together since they would be separated the next day when the royals returned to court at Aluria. The two quickly donned their cloaks and went up to the battlements.

  "Rory,” Bethany said, “I hope you don't feel pressured into this marriage."

  "I must admit that I hadn't given much thought to getting married before. I understand the need for another heir to Westfell as quickly as possible due to the duke's age."

  "Is that why you agreed? For Westfell?"

  "It's not the only reason. Although we just met, there is obviously a strong attraction between us. I believe we can use that to build a future together. Think of those who first meet at their wedding ceremony. We at least have more than that already, so just think how much better our marriage will be."

  "You find me attractive?"

  "I find you beautiful.” He pulled her into his arms and bent his head to her lips. Her arms went about his neck as she opened her mouth to his kiss. Rory slid his hands inside her cloak and began to trace the lines of her back.

  She pulled her head back, and said, “It will be a long six months until the Spring Court in Aluria. These kisses will have to last until then.” She pulled his head back down and pressed her lips against his once more. Rory's hands traced the slopes of her breasts and slipped inside her bodice to explore her firm breasts with their small pale pink nipples for a few breathless moments.

  She finally pulled back, saying, “No more for now, my lord, before we go too far and throw caution to the wind. You create such delicious feelings inside me that I have trouble thinking of anything but your hands on my body."

  Reluctantly, Rory drew his hands away and watched her restore her bodice, catching a glimpse of her creamy breasts before they disappeared once more under the silk and brocade fabrics. With a sigh, he placed his arms around her as he said, “While it will be a long time until spring, it will be an even longer wait for our wedding. I cannot begin to describe what you make me feel."

  They stood and watched the stars until a polite cough from the shadows reminded them it was time to go back inside.

  Chapter 7

  After the departure of the royal family and entourage, life in the duchy settled down into a routine for Rory. He would spend his early mornings helping the people of the duchy with the harvest or any other chores necessary to prepare for the coming winter. His afternoons were spent either beside his grandfather, learning the management of the vast duchy, or in the training arena, mastering the sword and other weapons. After six more weeks, General Gustav admitted that Rory was faster than he was with a sword and credited the speed to Rory's elven blood.

  Rory knew General Gustav was right. During their sparring matches, Rory would suddenly feel as if time itself had slowed. Every motion of his opponent seemed to flow very slowly to where he could see what they were going to do before they did it. He easily blocked every move while his own attacks seemed to blaze like lightning. With Swiftstalker, the matches were more even and moved with such speed that the flash of the swords was a blur to those who observed.

  Rory's ability with the bow was even greater. He could not miss. When he sighted on a target, it was as if he had telescopic vision and what he aimed at was merely a couple of yards away. It didn't matter whether he took his time or snapped a shot off in the time it took to pull back the bowstring, the arrow always flew true. After a few days, Swiftstalker presented Rory with his own elven bow. It had taken Rory a couple of days to get accustomed to this mighty bow with twice the normal draw of a regular one, but with it, he found he could hit targets at seemingly impossible distances. If Rory could see it, he could hit it.

  The only weapon of war Rory could not seem to master was the battle axe. He always felt clumsy and awkward trying to use the large weapon. In his heart, he knew it was because he had seen one used as an executioner's device and he felt the weapon was slow and without finesse. Since General Gustav was no longer able to disarm Rory when he held a sword, the general relented and dropped the axe training completely, saying, “You're right, lad. It's no different than cutting down a tree and a lousy weapon for defense. Stick to the sword and knife for close work and use your bow for long, and you'll live to an old age."

  Rory found the time spent with his grandfather fascinating. Once again, Rory seemed to have an innate affinity for discerning the truth whenever a matter was presented to Duke Richard for judgment. Crimes against people or property were rare in Westfell, and the recent execution of the chamberlain had s
erved as a lesson for all. Most disputes were based on a misunderstanding between the parties involved that they had been unable or unwilling to resolve between themselves. Almost all cases were solved by the simple expedient of having the involved parties explain their position to the duke and, in doing so, they usually reached an equitable solution. Only rarely did Duke Richard have to impose a solution, but when he did, it was fair and reasonable.

  Soon, most of the villagers began to seek out Rory during his walks around the town. He would listen quietly to both sides, then ask some probing questions which would lead the villagers to their own solutions. Once Rory started doing this, the calls on the duke's time dropped to very little.

  With his time thus freed, his grandfather began to tutor Rory on other aspects of being a duke, notably the interaction with the other duchies and the Crown. Rory found these lessons fascinating as they were filled with the more interesting examples of murder, treason, and rebellion. The war to unite the realm of Aluria had been brutal as neither Eastfell nor Solange wished to join. By working together, Aluria, Westfell, and Kendrahl had forced the other two into submission. While that peace had been maintained for over two decades, it was still fragile.

  "Before his death at the hands of Prince Brightblade, it had been rumored that the Duke of Eastfell had been holding secret meetings with representatives from the Outlands,” Duke Richard said. “Whether he meant to use them to overthrow the existing monarchy in Aluria or was seeking some sort of accommodation outside the borders of the realm, his plans died when he did. The only thing you can be sure of is the Outlanders will use his death and the regency period in Eastfell to further their own ends and spread turmoil elsewhere in the kingdom."

  "If all suspected the duke was involved with the Outlanders, why didn't the king take some kind of action?” Rory asked.

  "The king cannot act without proof. You can believe the king had his spies trying very hard to gather evidence against the duke, but even then, the monarch had to be careful. None of the Great Houses would stand idly by and let the king overthrow one of them. If he had acted against Eastfell, it is certain Solange would have rebelled to further destabilize the realm."

  "This then is another lesson in the realities of power. The king rules by the consent of the governed, especially the Great Houses because they are ones who have the standing armies."

  "Exactly! There are some who believe their positions are entitlements and a license to do as they wish. Among some of the Outlander countries, this is a common practice. In those places, a ruler has absolute power and no law applies other than the ruler's whim. Decrees are enforced at the point of a sword, usually wielded by the types of people we do not permit to serve in our armies in Aluria."

  Rory shook his head in disbelief. “That would be chaos for those underneath. There would be no surety in life, nor any appeal from arbitrary abuses."

  "Which is why we have refugees coming across the borders of Aluria every day,” Duke Richard said. “And while most are simple, honest folk looking for a better life, there are those who seek to overturn ours. Those who spy on Aluria and seek to create unrest here are one of the biggest problems we face as a realm. We do not see many of them in Westfell because our people know we stand for justice and fairness. In this part of the country, these spies try to establish more unrest by assassinating the leaders of a community or even higher."

  "Then it was for that reason the king insisted Duke Armand be escorted by the King's Own. It was not that the duke was in danger from the people of Westfell, but rather the king wished to protect the duke from the actions of some outside agent."

  "Very good, Rory,” Duke Richard said. “At a time when Eastfell is already in turmoil because of the murder of their duke, how much greater unrest would be caused by the questionable death of the Duke of Kendrahl or even Westfell? I know you sometimes chafe under the watchful eye of Lord Swiftstalker, but there has been good reason for that caution.” The duke smiled. “Although he does tell me that any common bandit who tried to take you would soon find his parts scattered about on the ground. He is quite impressed with your skill with the sword, you know."

  Rory smiled at this sudden praise. He had tried hard to impress his weapons master.

  The duke said, “Based on his request, you are to wear your sword whenever you leave the grounds of the keep. And I do not mean one of the training swords, either. I want you to start wearing the one your father gave you. It needs to become a familiar weight on your back until it feels like it belongs there."

  "Do you really think it is necessary here in Westfell village?"

  "No, and I pray you never have to draw the blade in need. But I will not risk you needing the sword and not having it. If it were in any way practical, I would have you carry that great elven bow of yours, as well. You are the future of this land, Rory, and no effort to protect that is too great."

  * * * *

  The morning of Rory's seventeenth birthday dawned clear and fair. When he came down to break his fast, he found his grandfather, Swiftstalker, and General Gustav waiting for him at the table. Mistress Margaret served him herself, whispering a quick, “Happy birthday, Lord Rorrick,” in his ear as she placed his plate in front of him.

  "Normally,” Swiftstalker said, “your weapons master would present you with a fine weapon as a gift on this day, but since you already own the finest anyone could desire, the general and I have conspired together to present you with your first suit of chain mail to protect your chest and back and some light armor, greaves and bracers, to protect your legs and arms."

  Rory went over to the new suit of mail and armor draped over one of the other display sets in the room. Of the highest quality, the set was still very plain, free of embellishment that might catch a sword or spear point, or of any device that might draw unwanted attention to signify the wearer was more than a common soldier. The helm was also plain and utilitarian from a distance. It was only up close he noticed the snarling wolf's head engraved in the crown of the helm, signifying Westfell.

  "I thank you both for this magnificent gift. It looks heavy,” Rory said.

  "Oh, it is that, lad,” General Gustav said. “It takes a great deal of stamina to wear it for long and even more to fight in it. Starting tomorrow, you will wear it for one hour each day for three days, and then two hours a day for three days, and so on. After a week, we will begin training in it. I wonder if you will be as fast in mail as you are without it."

  "Why are we waiting until tomorrow?” Rory asked.

  "Because we thought you might like to spend today getting to know the duke's present,” Swiftstalker said. “Once you finish eating, we will go take a look at it."

  Rory quickly bolted down his eggs, bacon, and toast while the others watched him with amused looks on their faces. Pushing his chair back, he stood and followed his grandfather out of the room and into the main square in front of the keep, where a coal black stallion with a white blaze between his eyes stood. As Rory moved beside the horse, he realized it was at least seventeen hands high. The saddle and tack were also black, polished to a high luster, yet still plain and utilitarian.

  "He is called Storm,” Duke Richard said. “He is a trained warhorse, and General Gustav has consented to teach you exactly what that means."

  Rory turned and embraced his grandfather, completely at a loss for words. The duke patted the boy's back as they hugged.

  "Well, lad, shall we go for a ride?” Swiftstalker asked as he swung up onto his own horse that Rory hadn't even noticed in the square.

  General Gustav handed Rory his sword and scabbard. “You're not going out without this, lad. And starting tomorrow, you will only ride out of this square wearing that mail and other armor. That's so both you and the horse get used to the weight of it."

  Rory slipped the scabbard strap over his shoulder and across his chest, settling the sword across his back. He reached one hand back to check the pommel of the sword and to ensure it was seated in its scabbard. He k
new from long practice he could draw the sword out in the blink of an eye. He also settled his dagger tightly into its sheath and adjusted it to ride naturally at his side while mounted. He knew he could draw and throw the dagger with the same speed and accuracy he had with the bow.

  Swiftstalker watched with approval as Rory checked and settled his weapons. The boy was a quick study but they had never covered doing this when mounting a horse. His actions looked like they were something he had done a thousand times before. Swiftstalker had only seen one other who was such a natural warrior, and that was Prince Brightblade.

  With a wave to Duke Richard and General Gustav, Rory turned the stallion's head and the pair headed toward the sally port.

  "He looks good atop that horse, Your Grace,” General Gustav said.

  "Yes, he does,” Duke Richard said. “We have certainly given him the necessary tools for war, haven't we? With the elven weapons from his father to a warhorse and armor, he has everything he needs, except experience."

  * * * *

  Rory was surprised as they rode through the village of Westfell. Many of the villagers called out birthday wishes to the young heir. Swiftstalker noticed his reaction and said, “Your people care a great deal about what happens in the keep, and they have come to know and, more important, trust you. Naturally, they know today is your birthday. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if we were to find they already know about your betrothal to Lady Bethany."

  "How can they all know something like that?"

  "We may act like there is no one around us, Rory, but there always is. Whether it's a guard at his post or a chambermaid straightening our room or the valet laying out our clothes, there are always others around us. Don't you remember how strange you found it when you first arrived at the keep? You used to complain about never being alone anywhere.

  "All those people around us see and hear almost everything that occurs, and they share that information with their lovers and friends, who repeat it to still others. Gossip about the Great House, especially since you have come to the keep, is one of the villagers’ favorite pastimes."