The king looked at her and smiled. ‘You may try and pass their tests and, if you pass, you may join with my blessing. Your mother would have been proud of you. I will speak to the Dukes of Skarran, Blackrock and Benduil. I suggest you go quickly before my mind is changed.’
Bria turned and ran down the steps, heading for her friends and this time the Preceptor didn’t try to stop her.
The Preceptor looked over at the gate and sighed. ‘I suppose I’d better sort this mess out’
The king held up his hand and the Preceptor stopped.
‘Your point about your investigations is well made. I will speak to the captain of the King’s guard and select four promising recruits to join you. Commoners will tell commoners that which they would not tell a noble.’
The herald looked scandalised. ‘Commoners, Sire?’
The king turned sideways and glared at the herald. ‘Is that a problem?’ The herald shrank back and shook his head. ‘No sire, just a little … unconventional’
‘Then convey my “unconventional” instruction to the captain of the guard. Four promising recruits to be in the throne room in full uniform in quick time.’ The king saw the herald glance behind him. ‘Don’t look for a messenger boy. I’m sending you. Now!’
The Preceptor put his helm back on and snapped the throat latches into place. ‘Four noblemen, four noblewomen and four commoners. I don’t think we could handle any more for a few months anyway.’ He clapped the Lore Master on the shoulder. ‘Why so dour. You got what you asked for and more than you could possibly have hoped.’
‘I never thought he was going to say yes and he’s not the first king to admit commoners but he may live to regret letting women in.’ His feet were still frozen to the spot but his left hand twitched and pulled at his robe betraying his agitation.
The Preceptor snorted and bowed to the king. ‘With your leave Sire.’
The king nodded. ‘Carry on Preceptor.’
The Preceptor turned and marched back down the grey carpet that marked the central aisle of the throne room. As he reached the cross aisle that led to the melee and the doors to the Southern Hall, Duchess Farrenreed hurried up to him, putting out her hand. ‘Please Preceptor. My son slipped away from me and is in there somewhere.’
The Preceptor shrugged. ‘If he makes the front of the line, he can stand vigil’
‘He’s only twelve wailed the duchess.
The Preceptor looked at her in shock and then back at the heaving mass of young men. ‘NOBODY MOVE!’
A fart of light shot from the dais and hit the struggle freezing them in place for a moment
He hurried over to the now mostly still heap and grabbed the first teenager. ‘go and stand with your back to that pillar.’ He indicated a pillar on the far side of the throne room that flanked the northern half of the cross aisle. ‘Face this way.’ He pulled a second boy to his feet. ‘You go and stand in front of him. Face this way.’ Within a couple of minutes, he had marshalled all the young men into a line that nearly crossed the hall.
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He walked back to Duchess Farrenreed. ‘Are you certain your son joined? These all look too old’
‘I took my eye off him for a moment when you were speaking to the king. I turned around to look for him, but he was gone. He’s been obsessed with the Dragon Guard for years.’
The Preceptor eyed the double doors, one of which was still ajar. He strode over to it and looked inside the gloomy hall. There, pressed against the door that hadn’t been opened was a blonde-haired boy dressed in the silver and blue colours of house Farrenreed.
‘Your mother is looking for you.’ said the Preceptor.
The lad stared up at him with some trepidation but refused to give in to fear ‘I’m at the front of the line. I want to join. This chance might not come again in my lifetime.’
The Lore Master appeared behind the Preceptor. ‘Perhaps not one of your better days, Preceptor. you’ve let women in, you started a brawl in the throne room and now you’ve forgotten any kind of age limit’
The Preceptor ignored the Lore Master and looked down at the boy. ‘Yes, you are at the front and, by rights, you should get your chance, but the training is long, hard and dangerous. Much too dangerous for a pup like you.
‘I don’t care about the danger, Sire. I want to be a guard.’
‘What is your name, boy?’
‘Jemryn Farrenreed, Sire’
‘Save Sire for the king, Jemryn. Address me as Preceptor. Now, let me discuss your options with your parents.’
The Lore Master tapped his staff on the ground in irritation. ‘You don’t have time for this. You’ve got twelve vigils to arrange.’
The Preceptor straightened up and turned his gaze back to the Lore Master. ‘Indeed, Lore Master. Thank-you for the timely reminder. I assume that you will be in the library should anyone require you’
It was a dismissal, but the Lore Master couldn’t resist one last snipe. “I will be in the solar, Preceptor, recharging, after wasting my power, rescuing you from your folly.’ He brushed between the Preceptor and the boy, through the door and into the Southern Hall.
The Preceptor turned to face the line of boys and came to attention before letting out a parade ground bellow that fairly rattled the windows. ‘Knights of the Dragon Guard. Attend Me.’
The doors into the Southern Hall that had only been slightly ajar were abruptly dragged open and eleven knights marched in, fanning out to form an arc behind the Preceptor. Like the Preceptor, they carried heavy-bladed halberds and wore pale pink armour with blank faced visors.
The Preceptor took a small pouch from one of the knights and opened it, wordlessly counting out wooden tokens. The court watched in silence as he walked past the first three in line and then handed a token to the next eleven lads, before returning to his position near the front of the line.
‘You that received tokens have been unlucky. On another day you may have made the cut. Keep them safe. Should any candidate fail or fall, present them at the door and you may stand vigil. If the chance does not fall to you, you may keep the token or return it as you choose.’ He turned to the knight at the left hand of the arc. ‘Sir Henrik, do you take the candidates through to the hall and begin the vigil? I have another matter I must attend to.’ With that, he marched over to the Duchess of Farrenreed and spoke quietly to her for a few moments, before leading the entire family through the doors, into the gloom of the southern hall and out of sight of the assembled courtiers.
Once the Preceptor had left the court, Sir Henrik moved to take his place at the centre or the arc. ‘With your leave, your majesty. Sir Leif. Your squad. Escort the first three noblemen through! Sir Lars. Your squad. Escort the guardsmen through.’ He gestured to the guard captain standing quietly to one side with four young men in guard uniform. ‘My squad. With me!’ The knights spread out and put a hand on the shoulder of each of the candidates and gently pushed them towards the doors and the darkness.