Alaric felt naked without his armor and sword. He was exposed; sort of like being outside in the winter in only your smallclothes. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched and kept looking around to see who was spying on him, but no one was there. He wished he at least had his sword.
But that was not how it was done in the palace. It was unusual for Lord-General Harmin to request to meet him here, and he was unsure of what that meant. The anxiety of it was nipping at his heels. He had to keep fighting it back to maintain the proper decorum as a soldier.
The servants had shown him to a large office in the palace’s west wing. He’d walked through a lot of tapestries from old battles to get here. He recognized many of them as ones he had fought in when he was still a young, spry soldier. He was old now; that was probably why the lord-general had summoned him.
The office had many plush and comfortable chairs, but he chose to stand. He was, after all, a soldier. Whatever was in store for him, he would face it on his feet. Whether he was retired and sent home, or if he was sent back to Fort Camulan, he would face his fate on his feet like a general.
Why else would they have brought him to the palace, but to retire him? If anything, Harmin should have had the meeting inside the barracks that were just outside the city gates. That was a much more appropriate place to meet. Unless, of course, they were going to send him out to pasture.
They were probably going to have a ceremony, give him a medal, and a swift kick in the arse to get him moving. They wouldn’t want him sticking around and stinking up the place.
Promptly at midday Lord-General Harmin entered. He was dressed in the same military doublet Alaric was wearing, only in black, and had the five headed dragon pin that symbolized his office as lord-general. Alaric, only a general had a four headed dragon on his.
Harmin also had golden braids encircling each arm, fastened to his shoulder by bright red epaulets, and a golden sash starting at the left shoulder that ended at the right hip. Emblazoned on his right breast was the large pin signifying his knighthood. He was knighted into the Royal Order of Dragonfire, the king’s personal order. That meant that he had been knighted by King Llarwyn himself. As a Dragonfire Knight, he was not allowed to wear a badge from any other order.
Alaric was a knight of the lowly Order of the Claws. Being knighted into the Claws was still a prestigious award, but not as high a rank as a Dragonfire Knight. That was an honor as high as it came.
Only a small percentage of the standing army were knights. Most were commoners trying to improve their station in life. The kingdom’s knights were members of the aristocracy and only did their duty as members of the standing army as required by the king. The majority of them just hung around with the lord that employed them and participated in jousts.
They were highly skilled and valuable warriors, but of the two, Alaric preferred the common soldier to the knight. They were hard workers, eager to listen, and most importantly, followed orders. Knights tended to elevate the value of their lives higher than the strategic requirements of the battle. The soldier didn’t second-guess the general’s orders. They trusted him to know what he was doing and did as they were told.
Alaric stood at attention and gave the lord-general a crisp salute. Harmin brought himself to attention and returned the salute, just as crisp. All the time playing politics didn’t soften his warrior’s hard shell.
When the salutes were released, Harmin smiled and shook Alaric’s hand. “Welcome to the capital, Alaric,” he said.
“Thank you, lord-general,” He replied.
“There’s no reason to stand on formality,” Harmin replied. “Call me Torvyn.”
Alaric went to parade rest. “As you say, sir.” He wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to call the lord-general by his first name. Respecting the chain of command had been drilled into him so hard and so long that he didn’t think it was possible to shake it.
The lord-general sat in one of the plush chairs, letting out a comfortable sigh as he did so. “Please, sit, Alaric.”
Alaric didn’t move. “I would prefer to stand, sir.”
Harmin shrugged. “As you wish, General.” He looked around. “I ordered refreshments to be brought, I see they haven’t arrived yet. I’ll have that remediated when the servant comes. How are things at Fort Camulan?”
“Active,” he replied. “The Fenns have been increasing their raids across the border. I have ordered more patrols in response.”
“Any skirmishes?”
“Always,” Alaric responded.
Harmin nodded. He looked Alaric up and down. He wondered if the lord-general was inspecting his uniform for a flaw. Force of habit most likely; he would find no flaw in Alaric’s dress. He always kept himself squared away, and doubly so when his meeting was at the palace.
“The Fenns have been massing at the border, sir,” Alaric continued. “They haven’t had a consistent presence there in some time. I fear they are planning something.”
“Agreed,” Harmin replied. “What have you done in response?”
“Besides increasing patrols? I’ve sent scouts to watch their movements and have staffed the signal towers. The scouts are instructed to light the fires at any sign of invasion. The scouts are rotated weekly, staggering their time so that I am always getting fresh reports on their movements.”
“Excellent. You always were an exception general, Alaric.”
The lord-general ceased his questions and remained silent. He looked around the room at the various decorations, vases, a few landscape paintings, and a red rug. He tapped his foot impatiently. The lord-general seemed to be waiting for something.
Alaric started to become uncomfortable with the silence. He desperately wanted to fill it with conversation, but he had nothing to say, and protocol looked down on an officer of lower rank making small talk with a superior officer. His eyes wanted to follow the lord-general’s gaze, but he resisted. Instead, he kept staring straight ahead.
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The door to the office opened and a highborn man entered. He was well dressed in the king’s livery. Alaric first thought he was the servant Harmin was waiting for, except that he was carrying an ornate staff.
He left the door open and stood beside it, standing as tall as he could. He banged the staff on the floor and shouted, “The King!”
Before Alaric could even process what the man had just said, two men entered. One, dressed in a red fur-lined cloak, and an elaborately embroidered doublet that struggled to hold back his girth. Atop his head was a golden crown. It was King Llarwyn!
With the entrance of the sovereign, he barely noticed the younger, smaller man that followed in on his heels. He had a gold circlet around his head, and was finely dressed, though not as elaborately as the king was.
Alaric immediately went to one knee and bowed his head. “Your Grace,” he said. He kept his head bowed. He wasn’t sure what the rules of behavior were around the king. He had never met him before.
There was only one reason the king would come to a meeting between an old general and his superior. They really were going to retire him. A lump formed in his throat, and he fought back the tears that were starting to form around his eyes.
He loved his men, he loved Fort Camulan, and most importantly, he loved being a soldier. What would he do if he was retired? He had no hobbies. Sure, he dreamed of the simple life of a farmer like all soldiers did, but he didn’t actually want them to come true.
The king stood before him and held out his hand. Alaric grabbed it and kissed it. The king pulled his hand away as though burned. That’s what he was supposed to do, right? What did he do wrong?
“Rise, General Alaric,” he said.
Alaric did as he was bid. “I am sorry if I offended you, Your Grace. That was not my intention.”
The king chuckled. “Fear not, general, you did no such thing. Just remember I am not a fair maiden swooning over a knight.”
He gestured to the younger man behind him. “My son and heir, Prince Alfyn.”
The prince-heir also? Why were they making such a fuss over him. This was much more honor than he deserved. If he was being put out to pasture, he would rather have had the lord-general tell him and be done with it. There was no need for all this formality.
He bowed deeply. “Your Highness,” he said.
The king gestured to a seat. “Please sit, general.”
“I would prefer to stand, Your Grace.”
The king fixed him with a stare. It immediately became clear that this was an order and not an invitation. Before his brain had completely registered the look, his body was already in motion. He sat in one of the overly comfortable chairs next to the lord-general. He sat up straight in the chair. He was afraid that he would sink into it and disappear if he sat back.
It was much too soft and comfortable. He preferred the stout wooden chairs back in Fort Camulan. They were hard chairs for hard men. This was a soft chair meant for soft men. Alaric was not a soft man.
“I have been eagerly awaiting this meeting, general. I have heard glorious tales of your battles with the Fenns in service to me,” the king said.
Alaric found his hand going to his chest. “Not as honored as I, Your Grace.”
The king smiled. “I have reviewed the records that Lord-General Harmin provided to me. Your service has been exemplary. Not a single misstep among them; your valor is well known among your men, and frequently rewarded by the lord-general. Why, you even have the Badge of the Realm. Why do you not wear it?”
“I am not one to show off, Lord King.” Alaric said.
“Indeed,” the king said. He leaned forward. “And what of your loyalty, general? Is it as never-ending as your valor?”
“I don’t understand, Your Grace.” That was a strange question to ask. He had proven his loyalty a hundred times. He could have turned and fled in any of the skirmishes he had fought in, yet he didn’t; not even the ones they lost.
“What His Grace is asking is whether you’d do anything for the Crown,” Harmin put in.
Why would they ask such a thing? Of course he was loyal. The lord-general had given him everything he had, everything he was. How could his loyalty be in question. Perhaps they had decided to give him a lordship to go along with his retirement?
“I am not sure why you are asking this, and appear to be dancing around my question, which any old general recalled to the capital would have. Your Grace, am I to be retired?”
The king fixed Lord-General Harmin with a stare. “I told you he would ask this, Harmin.”
Harmin nodded. He reached out and patted Alaric on the back, in the same sort of way you might pat a child whose dog had just died. “And you were right, Your Grace.”
“You’re not being retired, General Alaric,” the king said. Relief flooded through him. What then? Was he being reassigned? He didn’t care. Even if he loved commanding Fort Camulan, he would take any assignment. He would run a school if that was asked of him.
“I truly just brought you here to speak on intelligence and tactics on regards to the Fenns, General, which we will speak more of later. It just so happened that your arrival today has become…,” Harmin paused, looking towards the sky for the right word, “fortuitous.”
“Why?” he asked.
The king looked troubled for a moment and glanced at Alfyn. The prince couldn’t keep the king’s eye. He put his head down, face red with shame.
“My son has gotten himself into trouble. In response, we have agreed to exile him into your care.”
The crown prince? “Your highness! This is a terrible tragedy. Trust that I will give you the best guards and ensure your upmost comfort and care.”
“Not him,” the king said, “my youngest, Aeolwyn. You will take him on as a soldier in your company.”
“Aeolwyn? Isn’t he only 12? That’s too young!” Alaric protested.
“That is my judgement to make,” the king lectured. “He will never be king, and I’ll be damned if he turns out as lazy as the other two. He needs to learn the ways of a soldier and a commander. You are to teach him both.”
“Isn’t he studying with Sir Jom, Your Grace?” Alaric asked. This was a huge responsibility. He wished he could refuse it, but it was an order that came straight from the king. There was no way he could. The king would have his head if he did.
“Yes, and now he will study with you. He made his mistake and must live with the consequences. I want him to have combat experience before winter sets in.”
“But your grace! Without proper training, he could be killed!” Winter was only a few months away. There was no way he would have enough time to train him to be a proper soldier, no matter how long he had been studying with Sir Jom.
The king said nothing. He just folded his hands and arched a single eyebrow.
“Are you refusing a direct order from your king, general?” Harmin asked.
“No, lord-general, of course not. When do we leave?”
“Day after tomorrow,” the king said, “he will be delivered at dawn.”
“I understand,” Alaric said. “May I know what he did?”
Alfyn chuckled. “He broke into the Star Children’s fortress and killed a man.”
Alaric gasped. “Aeolwyn did that?” How? He was only a boy. Why? What would come over him to do such a thing? He must have been put up to it by someone. That was the only explanation that made sense.
“He’s my boy alright,” the king said.
This was all very strange. Exile seemed an extreme punishment for such a crime. It might suit someone of lower station, but a prince? The king should have just paid a wergild and been done with it.
Unless someone wanted him dead? It was a long journey to Fort Camulan. There were many places where the caravan would be exposed. An assassin could even hide among the soldiers and other members of the retinue. Perhaps he should put him under special protection.
He would already have protection, no doubt. The king wouldn’t send his son away without some of his own personal guards. But perhaps Alaric should reinforce that with some of his own men. Men he could trust.
“Very good,” the king said. He stood and turned to leave; everyone else stood as he did. He turned to leave, paused a moment and turned back. “Oh yes, one other thing. Egnever Thaed will also be accompanying Aeolwyn. Take special care of him. Lord Kaorc would be very upset if he were to be killed.
Another lord? This was getting more and more unusual. Strange that it was Egnever though. He was much older than Aeolwyn. If his memory served him, he was the crown prince’s age.
“As you command, Your Grace,” Alaric said, bowing.
The king left. His son and the lord chamberlain left with him, shutting the door behind them.
“Come, Alaric. Let’s eat,” Lord-General Harmin said.
This was all very unusual. His instincts told him there was more to this than what he had been told. He would have to be very careful. If something happened to Aeolwyn under his command, it would be his head on a pike, not the lord-general’s.