by Philip Blood
“I don’t snore.”
“Yes you do; and how would you know anyway, you were asleep!” she argued logically.
Jatar held up one hand with three fingers extended and counted them off. “I forgot the three most important rules; never argue with a woman, certainly not with your wife and most especially never argue with a sorceress. G’lan help me, you’re all three!” Jatar groaned and pulled the covers over his head.
Elizabeth picked up their son and turned him so that his small face pointed toward the bed. “Look, see that lump in the bed? That’s your lazy father who won’t even get up to wish you a joyous first year of birth.”
Jatar surfaced from the covers like a breaching whale, which sent the covers off the bed while he bounced up onto his knees. “That’s right, today is Michael’s birth celebration; we must make ready for the ceremony!”
Elizabeth smiled warmly at the disheveled apparition kneeling on their bed, happy that her ploy had worked so well. Jatar’s back was to the bright sunshine and from Elizabeth’s position his features were obscured by darkness. Her smile slipped into worry and a matching shadow crept over her soul, but then Jatar moved and his smiling face returned to sight.
“Let me hold my son!” he exclaimed.
Elizabeth smiled again and handed Michael into her husband’s waiting arms. The sorceress wondered why she was worried since the immediate threat from Tysol was over. She decided to try and enjoy the festivities of the day and set aside her worries for another time.
Elizabeth smiled slightly as she watched her husband and their son; it always amazed her how a man who could fight to the death in a sword duel, or negotiate sternly with other kingdoms, could then hold his baby son so gently and lovingly. Elizabeth realized that she was in love with him as much now as she was when they had married six years ago, perhaps even more so.
Jatar cradled his son in his strong arms and looked down into the boy’s face. “Today is your day, son. Before it is over I will affirm you as heir to my throne!”
The three conspirators were gathered in a room within the Ardellen palace in Lindankar. The necromancer was still under the influence of the tatrin pollen. He sat unmoving in a chair while staring off into nothing. The Tchulian mercenary Major Harland Von Dracek sat at the nearby table conversing with a nobleman, the third conspirator of their group. That man gestured toward CAracusS by waving an arm wearing an embroidered sleeve with lace trim.
“So Major, you had no trouble sneaking CAracusS and his victim into the palace?”
“One of Jatar’s guards actually helped us carry the man in after I explained that he was drunk from celebrating; it was almost too easy,” Von Dracek reported.
“That’s because the duel between Tysol and Jatar was a spectacular diversion. Congratulations are in order Major; it’s just too bad you didn’t get to watch after all the time you spent preparing Tysol for his performance. Elizabeth’s attention was riveted on Jatar when Tysol surprised almost everyone by pulling a concealed dagger. I had to contain myself lest I laugh out loud when I saw Tysol stab him, it was wonderful. That lout is such a good puppet, I only regret that I didn’t get to see Jatar kill him, it would have brought tears of joy to my eyes,” he raised a lace cuffed sleeve and used his forefinger to wipe away an imaginary tear as he reminisced with glee.
Von Dracek looked at him sternly as he said, “Weren’t you worried that Jatar was mortally wounded? Tysol could have killed him, and that wasn’t supposed to happen. His death would have put a serious crimp in our plan!”
The nobleman took no notice of the Tchulian merc’s tone. “Oh by G’lan’s enormous nose, I could see instantly that he was not so seriously wounded that he would die, it just added to the whole drama of the hilarious affair! I would pay to see him stabbed again, what fun!” the man exclaimed. "He was in little danger, with his wife watching over him there was more than simple fate at work. It would have taken a miracle of chance for that dagger to strike that ring.”
“To business!” the mercenary major exclaimed, “Are you sure that Jatar will not ignore the message and go with his wife to the church anyway?”
The nobleman shrugged as he answered, “As sure as anything is with something as complicated as this plot, but some chances have to be taken. Don’t worry, I’ll do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen,” he said with a casual flip of his hand as if to wave aside the worries.
“I don’t like leaving anything to chance, but it’s too late at this point to change anything. I’ll begin awakening the necromancer so that he will be fully recovered soon after Lady Ardellen’s departure,” the Tchulian decided.
“Then I’ll make my departure, I find CAracusS a bit of a bore really,” he said, knowing that the necromancer could hear him, but not yet respond. “Well I must get back to the fun, acting is such an underrated endeavor, and I find myself becoming quite the master over the years. Now I’m on to my next performance in the Great Hall!”
Von Dracek frowned as he watched the pompous noble leave; the man was starting to seriously annoy the sardonic Tchulian merc, he was taking far too much pleasure in this business. To the Major this was serious, something he had worked toward for many years. He didn’t enjoy what they had to do to Jatar, or the child, but some things had to be done to achieve important goals, and the destruction of the Kirnath was a goal that drove Von Dracek’s every waking moment.
The great assembly hall in the palace of Lindankar was filled to overflowing. Most of those assembled were high ranking nobles here to witness the confirmation of their future sovereign in this ancient ceremony of their land. Jatar and Elizabeth sat on two throne chairs that were placed on a raised dais at one end of the spacious hall. Michael's crib was placed on the right side of the ruler's thrones where Elizabeth could keep an eye on their son. The future heir was sitting up and looking out at the many faces of the watching crowd with the carefree attitude of a one-year-old.
As per custom, the Captain of the palace guards came forth and knelt before the thrones. Captain Fintok had been Jatar’s Knight Protector since he was designated heir to the throne at Jatar’s first birth celebration many years ago.
“Captain Fintok,” Jatar began, “have you found six men you deem worthy to be honored with the post of Michael’s Knight Protector?”
“I have milord,” captain Fintok answered.
“Bring them forth.”
Getting to his feet Jatar’s old Knight Protector marched to the side of the hall where six young men in shining light chain mail stood at attention.
The captain gave a crisp command and the six men followed him out before the thrones. At the captain’s hand signal the men turned in perfect precision, and dropped to one knee, facing their Lord and Lady. The captain remained standing to the side. “I present the six candidates that have proven themselves in the Great Trial, milord.”
Captain Fintok gestured to each as he spoke their name. “This is Hetark, son of the late Captain Halson Deverin of the Lindankar guard. The next man is Gustin, son of Yul Hearthforge from Lashbrook in the northern mountains. You already know Becaris, son of Sir Gregory Betherferd from Alaspern province. The man next to him is Drake, son of Denton Rider the Head Forester from Royal Oak. The final two are the twins, Rasal, and Lasar, sons of Stark LeKevern from Lindankar. After years of constant practice and rigorous training, and then six months of fierce competition and grueling tests, these six candidates were chosen out of the hundreds who competed for this honor as the strongest, fastest, smartest, bravest, most skilled and truest men in the kingdom. I recommend any one of them without reserve to be knighted and assigned as the personal guard of your son and heir, Michael Ardellen.”
Jatar and Elizabeth stood and walked forward to the first knight kneeling in the line. He was a few years older than the five other young men. Hetark was of average height with short blond hair and a light beard that hugged his face like a carpet; Jatar sized him up and liked what he saw. “Hetark, what is the most important duty
of a knight?”
“To serve and protect their Lord,” he answered immediately.
“And in what ways would you serve and protect Michael?”
“With all my love, strength, skill, wisdom, experience and life, milord,” answered the calm and thoughtful man.
Elizabeth watched his aura colors and got the impression of a man well endowed with the self-assurance that comes from repeated testing and success.
Jatar stepped down to the next candidate in line and found a huge man with midnight black hair and a clean-shaven face. Jatar gazed at the large boned features of this man’s face and thought he could see a surprisingly compassionate look behind the tough exterior. “Gustin, if an assassin threw a knife at your charge, what would you do?”
“I would step in front of the thrown knife and then kill the assassin,” replied the large man without hesitation and nodded his head once as if to confirm his answer beyond dispute.
“But how would you kill him with a knife in you?” Jatar wondered.
“I would manage, milord,” the big man replied and looked right into Jatar’s eyes with the conviction of a man who knows his own capabilities.
Jatar spoke low to Elizabeth as he stepped down the line, “You know I believe he would.”
The next man was of above average height and weight, yet he still looked small in comparison to Gustin who knelt to his left. He had long flowing brown hair that hung down a hand’s length past his collar. Even as he knelt he held himself with formal dignity. His body and clothes were groomed to perfection. A family crest adorned the left breast of his dark blue velvet doublet, which proclaimed him a son from one of the most prominent noble houses in Lindankar. Jatar knew him well and asked him, “Becaris you come from a noble house with all the birthright of the firstborn. Why do you wish to give it up and become the Knight Protector?”
“I am Michael's man; I’ve known that since your son was born. With honor, duty and life, I know I must protect the heir to the throne. I don't know what it is, but I have something important to accomplish in the service of your son. My father and I have spoken, so when I expressed my true feeling he agreed that this was the best course for my life to take. I have relinquished claim to my family title, passing the honor of first born to my younger brother.”
“And what if you are not chosen?” asked Jatar.
“Then I will find another way to serve Michael. In any event, I will not take back what I have given to my brother.” the young man proclaimed proudly.
Jatar stepped to the next candidate and found the opposite of the huge Gustin. The young man before him was small; the word 'compact' came to Jatar’s mind. He was finely muscled to the point where each cord was clearly defined beneath the skin. Jatar had the impression that the young man achieved maximum use from every attribute that he had been blessed with from birth. The oval face was framed by light brown hair and he sported a drooping mustache that added to the slightly mischievous look on his young calculating face. He looked Jatar in the eye as if to say, `ask me your worst; I’m ready for anything,’ so Jatar decided to oblige the small man.
“Drake, if Michael was in danger and ordered you to go somewhere, therefore putting him in greater danger, what would you do?”
“I would try and reason with him milord, and failing that, I would remain to protect him anyway,” he answered.
“So you would disobey his direct order even though you could be found guilty of treason later and put to death?”
The young man answered without hesitation, “If the amount of danger warranted the action, yes, milord.”
Jatar nodded, liking the answer, then continued down the line to the final two men. Looking at them was like looking at a double image, they were identical twins, both with long black hair that served to frame striking steel gray eyes. They were of average height, though their arms showed the heavy musculature of extraordinary upper body strength.
“Rasal,” Jatar said, speaking to the first twin, “if your brother Lasar was wounded in battle, dying, and you might save him by leaving Michael’s side, thereby only slightly increasing his danger, what would you do?”
“I would swear to avenge my brother’s death when it did not conflict with the care of my charge,” answered Rasal with a grim look on his face.
Jatar stepped before the other twin and asked, “Lasar, if you were dying of a wound as in the situation I described to your brother, what would you do?”
“I would tell him to leave me, and I would die happy knowing I had passed on in the service of my charge, Michael Ardellen, long may he live!”
Jatar looked to Elizabeth who gave him a nod signifying that all six of the men had answered honestly.
Elizabeth asked them all a final question. “Would you swear on your eternal souls that you are true to the Ardellen’s and to Michael with no other allegiance?”
All six of the young men responded ‘yes’, and Elizabeth confirmed their answers by watching their auras and verifying that they remained constant. She again nodded to Jatar telling him of their true commitment.
Jatar then turned to Captain Fintok. “I find these men exceptionally suited to their task, I thank you, captain, as always, my friend, you have done an impeccable job.”
Lord Jatar faced the watching assembly and raised his voice so all could hear. “Now comes a difficult choice, each of these men is dedicated to the service of our son, Michael, each has trained for the honor of Knight Protector and each of them is worthy. Lady Ardellen and I must now confer before making our choice.”
Jatar stepped back from the kneeling men and spoke with Elizabeth quietly.
After a few moments Jatar walked forward again and faced the crowd with the six kneeling candidates before him; he drew his sword and held it above the heads of the young men pointing up at an angle toward the ceiling and then he called out in a loud voice for all to hear, “I choose to break from tradition at this point in the proceedings!”
There was a low sound of questioning voices from the assembly, but Jatar ignored them and continued speaking.
“Normally we would adjourn to the antechamber to inform our selected candidate of our acceptance in private, he would then accompany us back to the throne to be knighted, thereby showing you our selection. Instead, I intend to make my choice publicly.”
Again the crowd murmured at this change in the expected ceremony.
“I do not do this to be insensitive to those not chosen to the post, for they are all ready to die in the defense of my son! Each of these men has my greatest respect and I bow to their courage and dedication,” Jatar inclined his head as a show of respect. “Indeed, they are all worthy of knighthood and of the title Knight Protector. And so we now choose to knight not just one, but all six of these courageous young men, and we give them all the title of Knight Protector!”
The crowd of spectators burst into conversation at this unheard of, but welcome change in tradition. Most of those watching were rooting for one candidate, and this way everyone’s choice won.
Jatar ignored the noise of the people, raised his sword high and moved over to the first in line. He proclaimed in a loud resounding voice: “In the name of G’lan, I, Lord Jatar Ardellen, ruler of Lindankar give you the rights of Knight Protector,” and Jatar brought the sword down to rest on Hetark’s right shoulder as he spoke the words. “Do you swear to protect and serve Michael Ardellen, so long as you and he both live?”
“I do, milord.”
“Then arise Sir Hetark, Knight Protector of Michael Ardellen!” Jatar took a gold ring from Captain Fintok who stood to his left and placed it on the third finger of Hetark’s right hand. The upper portion of the ring was formed in the shape of a shield. Jatar moved down the line of kneeling men as he repeated the ceremony and gave each of the new Knight Protectors a matching ring. When they had all been knighted Jatar spoke to the knights in unison. “You six men must now become as close to one another as real brothers; let all the energy you have spent on compe
tition now be used in pursuit of friendship and cooperation with one another in your service to my son. Captain Fintok was designated as my Knight Protector on my first birth celebration; let his example serve as your model.”
Jatar, having completed the knighting, stepped back and made a proclamation to the assembly: “These six men were once in contention, now I ask that they be equal brothers in arms, I give you the Knight Protectors of Michael Ardellen.”
The crowd erupted into cheers for the new Knight Protectors.
When the tumultuous applause had faded Elizabeth spoke to the six knights in a voice that carried, so all could hear. “Now good sir knights, do your first duty as Knight Protectors and bring your charge forward for the instating of his birthright.” In a quiet voice for them alone she added, “Bring the whole crib and set it before us.”
The Knight Protectors, three of them to a side, reverently picked up the white and gold crib that held baby Michael, their young master. The pride felt by these young knights shown from their faces like beams of sunlight. They picked up and then placed the crib gently in front of the waiting parents. Michael stared up at the large men and a smile came over his face, perhaps because of the bright highlights gleaming off the shining chain mail or perhaps he sensed a little of the love and protectiveness pouring out of these tough men.
With a sweep of his arm to point out the six Knight Protectors, Jatar said, “I have broken tradition and knighted six Knight Protectors so that Michael will never be without at least two loyal knights within call, protecting him always. You six are now brothers as if you came from the same womb and Michael is your son now as he is mine, he is your liege lord that you’ve sworn to protect, and he is your country’s future ruler, guard him well.”
The answer came in unison: “We will, milord.”
Jatar spoke out to the watching throng, "Now that Michael has his Knight Protectors the moment has come; I, Lord Jatar Ardellen, do formally designate my legally born son Michael Ardellen as my heir and first in line of succession to the throne of Lindankar. Let the celebrations begin, the land and people of Lindankar have an heir to the throne on this wondrous day!”