“Mother is bringing your new armor,” Adrian tossed the large ball by the handle it had down the hill opposite the village. Pearl and Vigora bolted for it as it bounced down the road and into the overgrown field. “They had just finished it. Mixed titanium and chromium in with it this time from salvages out of depots found in an underground bunker.”
Draka was swinging the bucket like a pendulum while he listened. He moved his feet, sometimes lifting his knees high, making practiced fighting circles. It was beginning to feel good with the way it was stretching his shoulder and arm, especially after moving the rope to pulling on his biceps instead of his wrists once he changed the loops into slip knots with Adrian’s help. He had always been better at knots. His fingers were longer from years of lessons learning to use courtly instruments at his mother’s behest before he began following Draka on campaigns.
“Has Miss Clevlan sent hers for forging yet?”
Draka shrugged. No idea, he pursed his brow, concentrating on not letting the pendulum swing too hard and pull at his shoulder to tearing. He decided to bend his elbow, though, to start to get a bit of traction on his unused muscles. Not too much. Not yet.
The horses were trotting back up the hill. Vigora was carrying the ball by the handle in her teeth, jerking it out of Pearl’s reach whenever she jumped and prodded for it. Adrian had to wrestle for it when they reached him and he threw it again.
“Probably have it done in Sodiulakim instead,” Adrian shrugged. “Not as good but will be faster. I was wondering…”
Draka kept the pendulum of his partially bent arm going when he looked up to him.
Adrian met his eyes, “Can I accompany you to Nancy for the treatise? I’ve always been curious to see it and I have unfinished business with the Dauphin.”
Draka raised a brow. He shook his head.
Adrian huffed. “I’m not going back, Draka. I told you, I’m not going back to university. My place is here now, with you.”
Draka shook his head. We’re not going over this again, he didn’t need to say. Turning his gaze back to the bucket should be enough.
As the horses returned and, once again, Vigora had hold of the ball, Adrian let out an exasperated sigh toward the trees. Vigora threw the ball at him when she saw he wasn’t paying attention to them. It hit him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. He doubled over and fell to the ground. Pearl grumbled at Vigora, who only scraped a hoof in expectation until he got back on his feet and threw the ball again. They charged down the hill.
“The—I—blasted Vigora—” Adrian struggled to breathe. Once he caught his breath, “What good will it do me to know about world wars and ancient ideologies if a demon is going to rip my head off so that you break your oaths and join them in Hell?”
Draka let his arm rest, let the bucket hang at his side, and looked up to the sharp, determined gaze in his former ward’s face. This wasn’t a child’s pleading to a father, but a man trying to get another to see his reasoning for a decision that had already been made. Draka pulled the loops around his arm loose and set the bucket down on the porch before sitting on its edge with a huff.
Adrian shook his head with a wave at—once again—Vigora carrying the ball up the hill with Pearl in tow. He looked toward the village with a sigh of relief. “He doesn’t answer every prayer, but when he does…”
Draka followed his gaze to Valmond walking up the hill with a group of men carrying folds of fabric. Behind him was a group of pikemen with blue tabards of Alcalia. He rolled his eyes. If only it were the answers I was hoping for.
“Master Adrian,” Valmond bowed to him. A knowing glance between them. Draka suspected Valmond was aware of Adrian’s birthright. Now, he knew it for certain. Valmond turned on Draka. “I’m here to prepare you for your council meetings today, your Majesty.”
Draka motioned for parchment and pen. As always, Valmond had them ready. Draka wrote, ‘Aurie is taking care of them. I’m spending time with my former ward.’
Valmond stiffened, hands behind his back. He cleared his throat. “I was told by the Regent herself to say—and I quote—‘tell him that if I had known he had put off so many things for so long, I would have thumped him until his plowing cockbiting lazy ass was so sore he’ll wish he was born a fish.’ End quote.” And his face filled with a squinting wince.
Adrian pointed at Draka and began laughing maniacally, slapping his knee and twisting this way and that. Draka bit his lip, nodding. Even Vigora and Pearl looked as if they might be laughing at him. He didn’t move. Only narrowed his eyes.
“I have brought your court outfit to be tailored and fitted along with your escort,” Valmond motioned for them to go into the house. They filed up the steps of the porch around Draka as Valmond continued, “If it pleases your Majesty.”
It does not.
Adrian’s laughter stopped. Valmond seemed speechless. Pearl snatched the ball by the handle and Vigora bumped into her to get it. The pikemen were looking at each other in attempts to hide their bewilderment. Valmond gave Adrian a pleading glance.
“Your Majesty,” Valmond softened his voice, “I was told of your loss, and I understand, but perhaps, once you reach the Fort and speak with the Lady, she might explain the change in arrangements herself, as it is not my place to speak on her behalf.”
“You need to rule your kingdom, Draka,” Adrian spoke up. “Regardless of what happens in your life, you still have responsibilities.”
Draka wrote on the parchment and turned a grin on Adrian before holding up, ‘You need to go to university, Adrian. Regardless of what happens in your life, you have responsibilities.’
“Do as I say, not as I do,” Adrian wagged a finger at him.
Draka stood after writing, ‘You’re going back to university as soon as my campaign on the Abbey begins.’ He threw the parchment at Adrian and went inside. The moment he saw the fabrics they laid across his table, he regretted agreeing. Light blue. Again. He turned a glare on Valmond.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“Your preferences have yet to be recorded, Majesty,” Valmond pointed to the stack of papers on the desk with a stifled grin. “It was one of the first requests.”
Oh. Draka began undressing as the tailors took the clothing away and began measuring him in places he always felt uncomfortable with but had accepted long ago. His time in Isa’s court had taught him that refusing to let them measure was far worse than a little discomfort for a few minutes. He was handed a linen shirt and put it on, then held out his arms for the tailors to tighten the laces. He knew better than to try to tighten them himself. That was a chastisement he had already been through a dozen times before ever arriving in Talkro.
“Unchanged,” the tailor said as he handed Draka a pair of trousers that was a shade shy of the bluest green that Maud’s eyes had turned so far. Draka began putting them on, much to the chagrin of the one trying to measure his chest, who dropped the tape measure to his sides in irritation.
“There is quite the agenda. We’ve organized for cooks to prepare your supper at the fort for the night and accommodations, if needs be,” Valmond was gathering the stack of papers and placing them over ribbons he had lain in a cross on the table.
Draka buttoned the trousers before taking the frocked gilded coat that was held out to him. As he fastened the frocks, a tailor wrapped his sword belt around his waist. Might as well leave that with how useless it is for me, Draka thought with a crinkled nose.
A tailor was marking in a journal beside Valmond, receiving nods every so often from the man at what he was writing. Finally, a man came in through the door with his boots washed of mud. Before he could reach for them, he was stopped by Valmond’s outstretched hand. He looked down. He held a pair of socks.
“Your eight toes will thank me.”
And I won’t have my ear pulled by Maud, Draka let out a breath as he took them and sat on the bed to put them on. If she still cares, that is.
The tailors, now finished with their work, were quick to leave Valmond behind to finish stacking the papers before folding a square of fabric over them.
“Did you read any of these at all, by any chance?” Valmond asked as he tied the ribbons around the stack.
Draka nodded. A few, he would have said. Valmond probably assumed as much with the way he still had that disappointed expression of anticipating a long night on his face.
It wasn’t until they reached the fort that Valmond’s slumping face finally lightened. Draka knew why the instant he saw Alice standing at the gate with her hands folded in front her in that proper posture she always held. The pikemen on either side of her nodded to their comrades accompanying Draka and Valmond while the couple winked at each other with those wanton grins of theirs. Draka grinned at that before looking past them into the bailey.
“The Regent and the council are waiting in the hall, your Majesty,” Alice turned on a heel and led them toward a doorway at the center of the stables.
Two soldiers with tall shields snapped straight as salute, one opening the door, as they entered. Inside was only wide enough for two long tables on either side and benches in the middle that couldn’t be moved or they would block the passage from the door to the end. A single raised platform stood at the far end of the hall, for the officer’s table, set crossways, with chairs instead of benches. There, Draka drew in a breath, was the council, filling every seat but the two in the center that faced the door.
His pikemen remained at the door into the hall, facing each other so they could cross their pikes against any who attempted to enter. Draka wondered if they were also given instructions to prevent any from leaving. Namely, him. If he ran hard enough from about midway down the row…
“Don’t even think about it,” Aurie said from next to him, making him jump, a knowing grin on her face.
Draka’s entire being spilt around him at the sight of her. He had to take a moment to recollect his thoughts, relearn to breathe, to move his muscles, before he could even blink his eyes. Her eyes were aglow and he could see all of her face, all the soft curves and sharp lines that formed the features of what made even his darkest nightmares something he looked forward to. And though he enjoyed seeing her in her simple dresses—really, seeing her at all, ever, was his favorite of times—she was making it difficult to think in the lavender gown she was wearing, with that smile, those eyes, the way she could read his mind, the softness of her voice, the way she cares for him…
“Draka,” Aurie tucked her lips, “No matter how long you try to stall, no one is leaving until we get through everything.”
Draka nodded. It passed. All of it passed through him as he turned to the stage and the table of men and women at the end of the hall. Following Alice toward them, Aurie stayed beside Draka, hands folded the same way Alice does, while Draka had the one resting on his sword pommel and the other swinging at his side.
He was looking over the faces of his council, seeing if any were missing. Pierre, his Stewart, has been competent so far at a local level, but Draka knew it would soon be overwhelming for him if he continued with teaching Maud. Father Hagen, his High Almoner, was only keeping the seat warm until a Cardinal was provided by Sodiulakim that wasn’t charged with the care of a Cathedral. His hope is either for Cardinal Thomas—which he knew was unlikely, since he was one of the senior members of the college now—or for Father Hagen to remain. Enya, who gave him a soldier’s nod once they were halfway, was his Marshall and commander of his non-existent army. And then there was the new face. Another woman in a bland yellow dress with red hair, leaning on her elbow with her other hand picking at the table in boredom. It was the way one foot was pushed out enough that Draka caught the buckled heeled boots with thin soles that made him stop.
Nina.
“Yes,” Aurie sounded far less than pleased. “She said you promised she would be your spymaster?” The way her tone changed from a simple question to an accusation of a crime did not go unnoticed.
Draka wondered how fast Aurie could run. If she was as fast as Maud, he stood no chance of making it to the door. He only nodded. That had been the deal. When Nina lifted her head and turned to him with that smile, he remembered her whisper, remembered her over him when he had been brought back from his son in his arms, remembered the kiss, and remembered Sophia, all at once. Grim, all of it.
This is going to be a long night, Draka thought as he stepped up onto the platform and made his way to his chair.
“First on the agenda…” Aurie said as she sat. Valmond set the ribbon-tied bundle of parchments in front of her and stepped down along with Alice to sit at one of the other tables.
Nina was full of sympathy coupled with a tinge of joy, never taking her eyes off him. Enya was wincing with empathy. Every soldier avoids their administrative duties as much as they can. It’s tradition. Father Hagen was stifling a laugh by tucking his chin. And Pierre, sitting beside Aurie, was whispering in her ear what she was looking at. Draka wanted to slam his head into the table.
“…Appointment of titles,” Aurie continued, sliding one to Draka, causing him to lean back.
It wasn’t the one Valmond had marked. He looked to Valmond at the table below. The man only raised a brow at him with a subtle shrug. Draka narrowed his eyes, sneaky bastard. He looked over what she placed in front of him. It was three lists from top to bottom, beginning with Duchies and working down to Hamlets. He crinkled a brow and whipped to look at her.
“If I remember correctly,” Aurie tapped it, “There’s—how many, Valmond?”
“Seventy-four titles, my Lady,” Valmond called.
“…that need to be appointed,” Aurie grinned at him as she slid another into Draka’s hand over that one. “And these are the Houses who have claims on them.”
If only mine was on there.
