Evening meals had become far more enjoyable for Turgeon and Dealrud now that the Thoth twins were their friends. They no longer ate in constant dread of the threat of bullying or being the target of some childish prank.
Everyone was aware though that Y’grathen would be to court eventually, and that was not something anyone was looking forward to. By now, Turgeon had fully captured the twins' loyalty. He did not fear that they would go running back to being Y’grathen’s lapdogs. The dukeling had never really been a friend to them, merely someone they had latched into for political gain.
Yet he understood Y’grathen’s return would put a strain on the twins, and on their budding friendships. He made the extra effort to build that friendship when he could, but his lessons still occupied much of his time.
Spending time in those lessons with the Princess continued to be a dangerous pleasure for him. He held firmly to his promise not to fall for her romantically, but he knew that their closeness would be yet another irritant for Y’grathen when he returned.
They did continue to train daily though, taking time to stay fresh with all of the techniques and weapons they had learned from the Fiorian system: grappling, the dagger and the one handed sword in addition to their continued development with the two handed sword. Often the Swordmaster wouldn’t attend to them for their full lesson, trusting them to train on their own at this point in their development.
On those days, the two of them talked as much as they trained. Not that they slacked off on their training, rather they chatted through and during short rest breaks between their practice bouts. One spring day, shortly after the arrival of the Summorian emissary, Turgeon brought up his continued efforts to deduce who had been behind the attack he had foiled months earlier.
“Still on about that, are you?” Suzette responded while parrying his thrust and bringing her blade inside his guard deftly to force him to step back and out of reach as he returned his own weapon to a guard position and pushed hers aside.
“It’s not something I can just let go of easily, I was almost killed by an undead beast whose summoner is likely still in the castle,” he replied while pressing the attack with a precise cut from the outside that Suzette blocked and attempted to convert into a slash at his throat. He was able to bring his blade back in time to catch her attack on his crossguard.
They separated and paused for a moment, both considering their next move. “I was hoping you’d drop it and leave it to someone else to figure out,” Turgeon shook his head at the thought, “but I can see that’s not going to be the case,” she adopted the Blowing Wind guard stance, blade low on her left side and angled down and slightly away.
Turgeon struck with a thrust at her chest, which she parried with the false edge of her blade easily out of the guard and quickly brought her own point to rest at his neck. Point to Suzette.
“No, I’m going to figure out who was behind the attack, nobody else seems to be trying, Suzette.” He held his hands up in defeat.
“I might be able to help you. But you can’t tell anyone about it, not Daelrud, and certainly not the Swordmaster.”
He was interested now. How would she be able to help him find the summoner?
“What are you going to do?”
“You’ll find out soon enough. Meet me tonight in the stable, the third stall on the left from the entrance is empty, I’ll be there at midnight. Don’t be late, or there won’t be enough time for what we’ll need to do.”
After that exchange they finished their lesson and parted ways. In the feast hall that night, though it was difficult and required more concentration than he would have expected, Turgeon studiously avoided looking in the Princess’ direction all night. He thought Daelrud might suspect something was awry by the way the Duke kept glancing his direction as they chatted merrily with Ted and Ed, but he heeded the Princess’ warning and said nothing of their plans for the night.
When the appointed time came, he roused himself from his bed and put on his boots. He’d lain down in his day clothes and was ready and out of the tower quickly, hopefully without disturbing the Swordmaster’s rest. Thankfully his master’s bedchamber was two floors above his, so he was fairly certain he was able to sneak out without the man being any wiser.
The castle corridors, and the courtyard between the keep and the stable were dark at night. Fortunately he knew the way well by now and needed little light to guide him. When he made his way into the stable Suzette was already there waiting for him with a small lantern, the hood mostly closed to let out only a small sliver of light that lit the cleaned out stall in the stable. She sat on a large pillow, but had not brought one for him, he noticed.
“What, no pillow for me?”
She grimaced, “It was hard enough getting this one here without getting caught, Turgeon, and I’ll need it for what I’m about to do. Sitting on this stone floor for up to six hours without moving is a trial not many could endure.”
“Certainly not many princesses,” he joked, grinning to make sure she knew it was a joke.
She grinned back, but was all business tonight.
“What I need you to do is to frame your question clearly in your mind and hold it there,” Suzette instructed him, “Concentrate as much as you can on finding the answers you seek.”
While she gave him these instructions, she removed three small and shriveled mushrooms from a pouch at her waist. From the blue discoloration on the stems and caps, Turgeon knew these to be the fuel mushrooms used for earth magic, and everything started to make sense. From what he knew of that branch of magic, practitioners were able to tap into a greater knowledge and gain an understanding of things beyond themselves, sometimes even seeing into the future.
His surprise at the fact that the Princess was a magic user must have been apparent on his face. Suzette laughed softly, “What? You think only the commoners practice magic? How do you think we royals have stayed in power for centuries without access to the power provided by the fuels?”
That made a certain sense, but he’d never seen the signs of the effects of the corruption on Suzette or her father, and he said as much.
“Father never practices his magic these days, he says it’s too risky for the King. I think he’s just afraid though. I’m careful with mine, and I don’t use it very often, only in times of great need. It’s been months since I’ve journeyed like this.”
“Is it safe though? What if something goes wrong… who should I go to?”
“It’s safe enough, but if something does happen, get Master Jesphat. He’ll know what to do.”
Without further explanation, she began to eat the mushrooms, chewing each one slowly and thoroughly before swallowing and washing them down with water. “Remember, keep your question in your mind,” she implored him as she swallowed the last of the three she had selected.
Minutes passed slowly and Turgeon watched quietly as the Princess entered the mushroom trance. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was slow and regular, but she was otherwise silent as the fuel took over her senses. He did his part, and concentrated on the question he needed answered: who was responsible for summoning the undead beasts he had fought in the castle hallways?
After what seemed like hours of this, Turgeon struggling to stay awake at the late hour much less focus on his question, Suzette’s eyes suddenly snapped open and looked directly at him. They were deep wells, her pupils massive and almost completely covering her iris giving her a deranged look amplified by the low light from the single lantern.
“There is… a wall…,” she whispered, her breathing becoming ragged, “Some kind of block preventing me from… from accessing the truth. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
She hissed softly, then her breathing returned to normal and her eyes closed again.
After another long while, what seemed like hours, her eyes once again snapped open and her pupils had returned to normal. “I’m sorry Turgeon, I’ve failed.”
He tried to hide his disappointment, but as usual failed to keep his emotions from his face.
“It’s okay, I figured this was a long shot anyway.”
“It’s not okay, this has never happened before. I meant it when I’ve said I’ve never seen anything like the block I encountered tonight. Whoever it is you seek, they are well protected. I fear what that means for all of us.”
She was, of course, right. Whatever that monster had been, Turgeon still suspected it had been after the King that night. If whoever had summoned it was able to erect protections against the Princess’ divination magic as well, they must be a powerful magic user indeed. Or it was a cabal of multiple magic users working against the royal family from within the castle. Neither option was good, and he could see on the Princess’ face that she knew it too.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“Will you tell your father?”
“He wouldn’t listen. But Turgeon, there is something else I have to tell you about my father.”
That didn’t sound good. He nodded for her to continue.
“Months ago, shortly after you arrived here and before we’d started training together. Before… before I got to know you, my father demanded that I use my magic to divine your truths. He wanted to know where you are from.”
A cold sweat broke out across his body, and he was awake and alert instantly as if he hadn’t been up all night.
“He said there was something about you he didn’t like, and he wished he hadn’t agreed to let the Swordmaster take you on as his apprentice. He couldn’t kick you out without a good reason, so he asked me to try to divine him an excuse.”
“What… what did you learn?” Turgeon tried to sound curious, he was supposed to not remember his past himself as far as the Princess was concerned.
“Nothing useful,” she sighed, “I just kept seeing this stupid little wooden box over and and over again, spinning and falling through an empty space.”
“What kind of box?” he tried to pretend as though he had no idea what she was talking about.
“Just like a toy puzzle box or something? I don’t know, I’ve never seen anything like it before. When I told my father about it, he went white as a sheet. Obviously it meant something to him, but he wouldn’t tell me what. I’m sorry Turgeon, I hope I didn’t ruin everything for you.”
He considered the situation logically, stepping back from the immediate visceral terror at the thought that the King knew about the box. He didn’t even know what the box was, except that the Swordmaster also had one that was similar. If the Swordmaster had one too, it couldn’t be that bad. Clearly it wasn’t the excuse the King was looking for to evict him from the castle and end his apprenticeship or he would’ve done just that months ago. Turgeon didn’t even know where the box had come from, and he’d never seen it before he came to the castle. It had nothing to do with his previous life, so the King couldn’t have learned anything about that from knowing he had it.
He’d been quiet too long, the Princess was watching him carefully with a look of concern.
“It’s fine Suzette, really, I’m still here aren’t I? The King hasn’t gotten rid of me yet, and you told him about that months ago, right?”
She nodded, “Yes, it was last fall even.”
“In your vision,” he decided to take a risk, “Did you see anything about how the box might be opened?”
Suzette frowned slightly, considering the question, “I don’t think so, no. The only other thing I remember is that right at the very end of the vision the box fell into a large pool of what appeared to be blood.”
That sounded ominous, but it might be a useful clue.
“It’s late, Turgeon, we should get back to our beds. The sun will be rising soon and we shouldn’t be caught out here together. People might… get the wrong idea.”
He knew what she meant of course, and he wanted to avoid that more than she did. That would certainly give the King the excuse he’d needed to boot him from the castle, or to separate his head from his body even. He let Suzette leave first, and when he was certain she’d had enough time to make her way into the keep he followed stealthily and made his own way back to his bed in the Swordmaster’s tower.
*****
That afternoon, when it came time for training the Swordmaster intercepted him before he could head up to the salle. He handed Turgeon a bundle of new clothing, tunic and leggings that were obviously more expensive than anything he had worn yet in the castle. Both were dyed a deep blue, almost black, and decorated with intricate designs in silver thread at the cuffs and collar.
“Put these on,” he ordered in his usual gruff voice, “Quickly, the full court has been summoned and you and Suzette will be the center of attention this afternoon.”
He obeyed, but his heart was racing. Had someone seen them last night and reported it to the King? Were they to be called out and punished in front of the entire court? He doubted Suzette would be punished badly, but the consequences for him could be dire indeed.
On the walk from the tower to the King’s audience hall he felt like a condemned man taking his last march. Oddly, the Swordmaster seemed almost happy, eager for whatever awaited them. He hadn’t thought his hatred of the man was returned in kind, but perhaps he had just hid it as well as Turgeon had. Why then take him on as an apprentice and train him though?
As the Swordmaster had said would be the case, the entire court had assembled in the audience hall. Dael, Ted and Ed huddled together near the dais, a place of prominence in the court that was unusual for his coterie that was more often found lingering along the back wall when court was in session.
Upon Turgeon’s entrance to the hall, they cheered and clapped. He had thought they were his friends, how could they celebrate his misery so? Surely they could see he was doomed.
It was the peak of summer, and almost time for the midsummer festival. Turgeon had yet to experience it as a resident of the castle, but he knew that the event would draw nobles and commoners alike to the city from around Falkaria. It seemed the nobility had already begun to flock to their city manors, as there were twice the usual number of attendees at court today.
His master led him up onto the raised dais where he was greeted by a familiar sight. Suzette was already on her knees in front of the King and the Librarian stood behind him. Guiding Turgeon to a position alongside the Princess, the Swordmaster gave a whispered order to Turgeon, “Kneel!” Then moved to take up his own place beside the King.
For a moment, Turgeon thought he might opt for defiance. He would meet his fate standing on his feet, not on his knees in servitude. At the last second before it would’ve become awkward though, something clicked into place in his memory. The way the King and his retainers were arrayed before him, with Suzette by his side, was identical to the private ceremony months ago when the King had given him his first sword. Then he noticed that the Swordmaster had also retrieved two longswords from behind the throne.
Turgeon dropped to his knees in relief, taking in a deep breath to center himself. He wasn’t going to be executed today. Which meant no one had seen him with Suzette last night. Being the center of attention for the entire court of Falkaria was only slightly less nerve wracking for him than the threat of imminent death though.
He snuck a glance in Suzette’s direction and saw that she was considering him as well. Standing to the side of the dais, the King’s steward raised both of his hands high above his head and the murmur of the court ceased almost immediately. Every eye in the audience hall turned towards the dais, where the King stood in front of his throne.
“Friends of the court of Falkaria, I welcome you to this most solemn of ceremonies. Today, we celebrate the promotion of two novices of the great Fiorian arts to practitioners.”
The King was forced to pause for several moments as the crowd cheered and clapped briefly, until the steward raised his arms again and the crowd silenced quickly.
“Your majesty,” the Swordmaster took the opportunity to interject and the King did not look pleased about it.
“Swordmaster,” the King acknowledged him, giving him leave to interrupt the ceremony for now.
“I must ask a favor, your highness, in exchange for my long years of service to you.”
Turgeon and Suzette could hear the King’s whispered hiss through gritted teeth, the rest of the room could not, “Here? Now?” he demanded.
The Swordmaster only nodded briefly and continued, “Your highness, I would beg your leave to adopt the boy, Turgeon. As you know, he has no family and no name. He has become like a son to me as my apprentice. He will succeed me as your Swordmaster one day, and it would be good for him to bear a name when he does so.”
From the frown that had settled firmly onto the King’s face, Turgeon could see that he was not happy with his master’s request. Turgeon wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it himself. He still held a deep seated hatred for this man who would adopt him, despite everything The Swordmaster had done for him in the past year. Come to think of it, he didn’t even know the man’s name, or what name he would be acquiring through this adoption.
There was no way out for either Turgeon or the King at this point though, no way for the King to deny The Swordmaster’s request in front of the entire court. No way for Turgeon to reject the gift without seeming an ungrateful brat.
“As is your right, Swordmaster. The boy shall be known henceforth as your son, and shall bear your name.”
“Thank you, your majesty,” the Swordmaster stepped smoothly back into place and the King was able to resume the ceremony.
It proved to be a mirror of the private version Turgeon and Suzette had participated in previously. He began with Suzette this time as well.
“Students of the Swordmaster of the Kingdom of Falkaria, it has been determined that you have earned the right to call yourselves practitioners of the Art.”
He prepared to hand Suzette the first of the longswords. This time, they were practically identical in adornment, both simple functional weapons with plain black leather scabbards and hilts of the same strange skin as their other blades. Both had the same plain disc pommels and s-curve crossguards, useful for grabbing an opponent’s blade in the bind. From what he could see of it leaning against the throne, Turgeon’s own blade appeared to be at least a foot longer than the one the King held in front of Suzette.
“In exchange for this blade, I require your oath of service.”
“My King, I swear to use this blade in service to you and the Kingdom of Falkaria. I swear to always follow the path of the ideals, and to strive for perfection in your service.”
That was different from the private ceremony, but upon brief reflection made sense. This version wouldn’t require them to share their chosen ideals in public.
“Your oath is accepted, Suzette Falkar. Congratulations.” The King handed the blade to her and pulled her to her feet and into a warm embrace.
When he turned to Turgeon, his face went cold. His resentment for being forced to allow Turgeon to be adopted by the Swordmaster readily apparent for all to see.
“In exchange for this blade, I require your oath of service.”
He followed Suzette’s lead again, and the modifications she had made this time. “My King, I swear to use this blade in service to you and the Kingdom of Falkaria. I swear to always follow the path of ideals, and to strive for perfection in your and your heir’s service.”
That last modification to Suzette’s oath had made sense to him, why would she swear service to the King’s heirs when she was that heir?
Apparently it was the right thing to say, because the King brightened immediately and he caught the Swordmaster – his father, now – smirking from his place behind the King.
As he handed Turgeon his blade, he also uttered the most shocking words Turgeon had heard in his life.
“Your oath is accepted, Turgeon Falkar, Swordmaster Elect. Congratulations.” The King handed the blade to Turgeon, and repeated the motions from Suzette’s oath, actually embracing him.
As he pulled Turgeon close, he whispered in his ear, “I will hold you to that oath boy. You would do well to remember that my daughter is my heir. Welcome to the family.”
With that, Turgeon, reeling from the events that had transpired, and Suzette beaming with pride at her accomplishments, were presented to the court’s joyous applause.
He made to leave the dais and greet his friends, but the Swordmaster grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. “You’re needed in council, Turgeon. It’ll be part of your duties now. Your friends will have to wait.”
