Knight of the Realm tya-3

by P. S. Power

  Knight of the Realm

  ( The young ancients - 3 )

  P. S. Power

  P. S. Power

  Knight of the Realm

  Chapter one

  The fine bed he sat on was soft, of course. Tor would have expected nothing less of one found in the King’s palace. The dark wooden frame had a high polished sheen, the covers silky and new looking, not worn with age at all. Whatever they used to stuff the mattress just formed under him when he shifted and sure as heck wasn't straw. That he was in it was a bit of a mystery, but no one else seemed to mind, at least they hadn't come to tell him to get out yet.

  That it was comfortable didn't mean all that much. It had a lovely brown and gold coverlet, done in silk, like the sheets, which were both wonderful… and a complete waste of resources to his mind. Silk sheets? Expensive and far too easily stained, plus hard to reuse for anything else later. Cotton would have made a lot more sense really. Then when it got too worn it could be turned into children's clothing or even rags and given new life. Personal comfort shouldn't outweigh practicality, should it?

  Ursala, his friend, had assured him that she'd make sure no one bothered him while he worked, palace or not. After all, he was building magical devices she wanted, so it was kind of critical that his focus remain as intent and smooth as possible the whole time. Those things led to quality work, which was important.

  So far that hadn't happened at all. Not even a little bit. Being left alone that was.

  That he'd managed to focus was a bit of a miracle really.

  For some crazy reason people kept trying to visit. Tor realized how absurd that was, sure, but it kept happening anyway. Ursala was Countess Thorgood, and even her words hadn't kept them from his chamber door. What did he have to do, hire the King himself to stand guard?

  It was insane, of course.

  The man was way too busy for that.

  With everything going on, why in the world would anyone ever want to sit and chat with him anyway? His friends he could see, looking to share and keep the social connections strong, but they all knew he was working and generally left him alone like they should. Tor had good friends that way. No, it was all the people he didn't know that kept bugging him.

  Stupid people.

  OK, that was a little unfair, they were just scared and looking for ways to protect themselves from the damage of war, but really, that was what he was doing. Trying to help people be a little safer. Making his little trinkets to help them be secure, and to keep their people and homes that way too.

  You'd think that would count for something.

  True, Tor was just making copies of magical devices right now, amulets to shield people in battle or from attack, some flying rigs, military grade Not-flyers and the like. All things he'd designed himself and made so many times before that he could do it without even holding the original template in his hands now. It was rote work, and should have been boring, except that he went too deep while doing it to notice that kind of thing anymore.

  Pure concentration trumped boredom every time.

  Luckily. Otherwise he'd have given all this building up long ago and gone to sea or something more active. He'd only been to the ocean once, but it had been kind of impressive. Sailing on the waves would be an adventure if nothing else.

  As he finished the latest batch of one hundred shields, Tor inhaled deeply. Swimming back to consciousness again he oriented himself. First feeling the soft silk under him, smooth and slightly tacky, then where his legs rested against the soft down of the mattress which was as it should be. Perfectly normal. Then he heard them. Voices coming from about ten feet in front of him.

  Annoying voices.

  Grand… more visitors.

  “I simply must have an audience now! War is upon us and I can't leave my County unprepared. Master Tor must simply produce enough shields and weapons for my people as well.”

  The voice wasn't familiar, but had that base rumble that Tor associated with all the royal giants.

  He tried not to automatically hold it against whoever the man was. Some of his best friends were giants. And, even if they were over-sized and used too many resources to be efficient, they were still good people. Maybe this fellow would be as well. Probably not. Most of them were a little too into themselves, to feel good about.

  Tor felt like grunting a little, anger suddenly ripping through him. He “must” make things for this guy? Really? Most people at least asked if he would, even the King and Queen requested politely. But then they got that it worked pretty well, especially since he never actually told any of them no. If they wanted his things all they had to do was ask, but a little bit of courtesy wouldn't hurt. He was putting out twelve hundred field devices per day, by himself, and this man wanted him to do more? The Debri manufacturing house only put out half of that each day and they were the main official supplier of flying rigs and shields for the whole kingdom. The agitation tried to turn into full blown anger as he opened both eyes and found the man that had been speaking, looming in the doorway, a pissy look on his face. In front of him stood a cowed looking boy of about twelve, maybe thirteen, baring the giant entry to the room with his body.

  Intimidated or not, the kid didn't move, which almost made Tor want to cheer. It was hard to stand like that, looking up at someone nearly twice your height and not get out of the way. Tor knew the feeling himself. It was like they could trip and crush you at any moment.

  The very large man, dressed in incredibly nice blue and black clothing didn't try to push the smaller figure out of the way at least. He just stood arguing to be let in, as the boy rather politely refused him, his brown haired head nodded as he spoke as if trying to influence the man to agree with him through force of will.

  It wasn't working.

  That could be done, theoretically, but it would take some kind of direct effect, which required a vast amount of focus, as well as knowing what you were doing. Tor couldn't do it. Not yet at least. Or at least he’d never tried it, which wasn’t exactly the same thing.

  “Um… My Lord Morris? I was told to not let anyone in to see Master Tor. If you'd like to make an appointment with him, there's a list, you see, and a few people ahead of you, but if you wish I can put a good word in with the Master and try to gain you an earlier time slot… He's working almost non-stop though, making things for the war effort right now, so-” The boy wasn't someone Tor knew really, a page? That seemed likely; the pages were all small boys that he'd noticed, or small girls with short, boy like, haircuts. He hadn't talked to a lot of them yet, which was obviously an oversight on his part if some of them were going to be acting as his personal guardians like this. He'd kind of thought they just ran messages back and forth. Apparently they were expected to do more than that.

  Like stare down giants.

  The big man looked over at Tor and noticed that his eyes had opened. He tried to walk past the kid only to find that he wouldn't budge at all. Heh. Morris, who was probably a Count given the name, Tor decided, frowned.

  “I'm a Count boy! Get out of my way or I'll have you whipped and hung by your thumbs for good measure!” The Count, who must have been nearly six-eight compared to the smaller figures five-two or so, bristled and started to draw his hand back to strike with a backhand. Afraid or not, the small figure in brown didn't move out of the way, even as he cringed from the proffered blow.

  “I wouldn't.” A soft voice came from the hallway behind the count, male and deep, a bass rumble even compared to Morris, the feeling that loomed was familiar, even though the bits of skin and hair Tor could make out seemed too dark to be his friend right now.

  Prince Alphonse. Or, as Tor knew him, Rolph, his buddy, and roommate from school. In disguise, sort
of at least.

  “I can almost guarantee you that if you strike a child in his presence Tor won't make anything for you, ever. In fact he'll probably come over and kick your ass right here in the hall. Don't think he can't either. I suppose you could try it and see if I'm lying, but really, getting your name on a list is about the best you can do here right now. I'd just take that and leave quietly, or at least start trying to be a bit more civil with our staff.” It wasn’t his normal tone, but Rolph sounded a little cold. Like ice. It was his half whispering that did it.

  A deep chuckle came from someone that Tor couldn't see at all, “Too right Bertie. I'm marrying his sister, and we're close personal friends, he was the one that introduced us even, and I still have to sign up to visit with him myself. No fair jumping the line here.” There was good humor in the voice, which Tor recognized as belonging to Count Toverland Morehouse Thomson. Tovey, a friend of his from school, back when they'd all gone. Forever ago it seemed. Months even. It was nice that the blond giant had come to visit. Now if they could just get rid of this other Count…

  Count Morris bristling a little, which Tor understood. Tovey may be the man’s equal in social rank and position, but he was also only about twenty-one years old. Or was it twenty still? Tor was pretty sure he'd missed that birthday, along with his own and Rolph's. Working too much to pay attention. The Prince and he were both eighteen now and had been for a while. Really he needed to get himself caught up on presents pretty soon, or at least send out a card or two. Not to mention all the ones he'd missed with his own family back in Two Bends, and all the people back at his own house. They were his guests after all, in a way, even if they lived and worked there full time. Which made them family, didn't it? Tor hadn't realized how far behind he'd been falling on social obligations.

  Hopefully people would cut him a little slack because of the war. The most recent event, County Ward in the southeast declaring war on the rest of the kingdom, kind of had everyone in an uproar. After all, the Wards, the Count and his young, incredibly bitchy, but beautiful, wife, had tried to kill nearly fifty people in the last months with poison. Who knew what else they'd been up to. Tor suspected they were working with the Austran nation, but couldn't really prove that yet.

  He couldn't even really prove they were behind the attempt on his own life some four months ago. Less than that? More? Tor didn't remember now. Too much work had shifted his ability to keep track of time at all. He'd have to buy a calendar.

  The older Count had salt and pepper colored hair, and a nice looking mustache. Full and manly. Mid-tone dark skin, which was about average. He hadn't lowered his hand yet however, even facing the Prince and heir as well as a fellow Count. Tor stretched a little, grabbed the bundle of shields he'd been building from in front of him on the bed and got up slowly, moving directly over to a piece of paper that sat on the floor along the wall along with several others. The one he wanted for this group of copper disks said “Printer” on it in his own cruddy hand writing. It wasn't visible any more, being buried in field devices, but it was the right stack. The metal of the copper plates made a solid clanking sound as it bumped the other bundles already there. There were several thousand pieces just in the one pile.

  Once that was done, Tor stretched again and then turned to look at the noisy and angry seeming man that still filled his doorway, apparently not willing to let the others through or remove himself. Tor noticed that the boy still hadn't cleared the door either, even after being threatened with a beating and torture at the hands of a man that could legally do exactly that. That was pretty tough. If a giant had threatened him like that at twelve, he would have wet himself and considered anything short of dying a win.

  Forcing himself to walk smoothly, Tor padded over to the scene in his bare feet and placed a hand gently on the slightly smaller boys shoulder trying to get his attention without startling him. It made solid contact which made Tor wince. Neither of them had a shield on? He'd been working, so his had to be off, which he fixed with a tap to his chest, the intent of the move activating his personal amulet, but his guard? The boy had just never been given one. The magics were a little hard to get most places, for all there were thousands of them sitting along the wall.

  A grave oversight if the boy had to go toe to toe with giants on Tor's behalf. Without saying anything, even as everyone else just watching, he moved to the box of devices he kept on the small table next to Holly's bed. He pulled a shield out that already hung on a stout leather thong, which had to be one of the countesses at work, because Tor always just used cheap hemp string himself. Then, looking carefully he grabbed a copper tube that held a force lance field as well. The leather got draped over the kids head from behind, which made him jump, and the tube was pushed into his right hand. The boy grasped it a little weakly not understanding yet. Then, again without saying anything, Tor activated the shield for him reaching over his shoulder to tap the sigil. The shields locked and then forced away from each other, but it didn't hurt, so Tor didn't worry about the effect.

  Rolph laughed out loud. It was a soft thing that sounded menacing, but was really just that gentle because of the stab wounds that the Prince had all over his stomach. That hurt, being stabbed like that, and the fact that Rolph was up walking around already, less than two weeks after the attack that had nearly killed them all, was impressive. If anyone had ever thought the price was soft, or a wimp, they needed to rethink their position now, didn't they?

  Still, the laugh sounded menacing, which worked pretty well really. It's what Tor would have wanted to do himself if he hadn't mainly been living in a trance state. That tended to wash out his outward emotions a bit. Most of the way, really. Until he got all the way out of the working state he'd seem flat and boring for the most part.

  That chuckle could have been on purpose. Rolph, Prince Alphonse, Tor corrected again, was good at judging the moment like that.

  “Or,” he added, looking at the Count with a grin. “Tor might just do something like that. Military grade force lance? Please tell me you didn't hand a kid one of those explosives…”

  Tor nodded to the boy.

  “Force lance and shield. Not instantly lethal, but it should even things up if need be.” Tor gestured to the page to let everyone in. It was obvious that he wasn't going to be getting back to work any time soon. He tried to seem casual about it, but coming out of a working trance to find some overbearing giant threatening his bodyguard or whatever the boy was, kind of made him feel a bit surly. It was a fight to keep that out of his voice, flat affected or not.

  “Please, let's sit for a moment and see to things, then I really need to go and exercise for a while, all this sitting has to be balanced out somewhere… and for some reason everyone keeps thinking that beating me without mercy is the way to do it.” It really was the common thought too. Maybe because running wasn't a group activity, but Tor kind of wondered if some of them weren't secretly taking pleasure in it.

  There was only one chair, a standard thing for all the palace rooms, which they gave to Count Morris, letting him feel important, so everyone else had to sit on the beds. Tovey and Rolph perched on Holly's, leaving Tor the one he and Ursala shared, he gestured for the boy to sit down next to him, which got a surprised grunt from the older Count, even though the other two accepted it as normal. He was Tor, and that meant he barely noticed class distinctions to their minds. Really he just didn't want the kid to have to stand while everyone else got more comfortable. It didn't seem fair.

  “What, is this boy supposed to be in on our meeting as well?” The Count asked sourly. At first Tor didn't know if he meant him or the kid, but then realized that with his new full beard, he didn't look nearly as young any more, probably even close to his own actual age. Tor glanced at the boy, whose head was hanging just a bit. Now that he saw the face and not just the brown mop of hair from the back, he recognized the kid, though he didn't know his name. He'd been the first person to ever act as a meal server for him after all, having brought
the plates to the table on his first visit to the palace. That was pretty memorable. He'd also been at the council meeting about a week back, along with a girl that Tor thought was his sister. They looked a lot alike at least.

  Tor shrugged.

  “Of course. He's an open council member, as well as my personal assistant and bodyguard. As he told you, he's in charge of arranging all appointments for me and helping to schedule needed work. He needs to be here if you want to schedule anything doesn't he? I don't even know where the list is being kept myself, which means he's kind of in charge of me. Now, you seem to have pressing business, so, why don't we get to it?” Tor fought to keep his voice polite and light and thought he might have made slightly sleepy sounding at least.

  For the palace this was practically calling the Count out, for all it lacked social grace. Then again, the man had threatened to hit someone that was obviously just doing their job. The King himself wouldn't have done that, nor any other member of the royal family. For this guy to come into the palace and think it was OK to do that…

  Oddly, Count Morris ignored the lack of courtesy and started right in on his spiel, one that was a lot more pleading suddenly that the Prince of the realm and a fellow Count were watching. Funny how that worked, Tor thought. The man sat straight and cleared his throat, pulling at his deep blue velvet tunic to straighten it.

  “It's come to our attention that Master Tor is making field devices for several County’s forces now, since the declaration of hostilities between County Ward and the Kingdom of Noram. My County of Morris borders Ward on the west and sits as guard to the Capital itself. I was hoping that I'd be allowed to purchase some shields, weapons and flying gear for my own forces, since we may be expected to act in the common defense…”

  It was a good argument, Tor realized, and done in a way that he absolutely hated, sounding as if the man was talking about him like he wasn't there, even as he looked at him. The Count seemed to be giving most of his attention to Rolph, which made sense, then to Tovey, only making casual glances at Tor at all. Right, because Tor was just a device to him, a thing to make what he wanted, not a real person at all.