Carhan was the capital of Azzellia. Over five hundred thousand people lived here and the streets were always crowded. There were two walls: the outer wall surrounded the entire city, and the inner wall split the city in half. Civilians could go anywhere in Carhan, unlike in other capital cities, which separated the poor districts from the rich. There were some restricted, but most of the city was open to all.
The area around Carhan was open, making it difficult for anyone to sneak up on the capital unannounced. It took an hour on horse to make it to the closest forest. There were five entrances into the city, with each manned by at least a dozen guards and a gate.
The people of Azzellia liked to think they lived more freely than those in other nations. Talon Astero, prince of Azzellia, wasn’t sure he agreed. He was only fifteen, and had seen many parts of the world as part of his education to become king. A good king needed to travel to learn about all the nations, not just learn from books. At least, that’s what his father, Lerin, told him.
Talon didn’t always have time to ponder the rules of other nations. Right now, he was here to have fun. Allowing himself a small smile, he rubbed his hands into a nearby puddle and splashed mud all over his face and clothes. With how he was dressed now, no one would realize he was heir to the throne.
Blending in as a commoner was a habit, he’d gotten into over the past three years, and it drove his father crazy. If Lerin saw him now, Talon would be scolded about risking his life. Perhaps it was true, but he couldn’t walk around Carhan as a prince. People would grovel and say what they thought he wanted to hear instead of the truth.
Besides, his two best friends could never know he was a prince—not until he became king, at least. He didn’t want to lose them. They treated him like everyone else, and he valued that more than anything else.
Talon rushed over to a nearby fountain and examined his reflection. He didn’t look like a prince; nobody would look at him twice. His blue eyes stared back at him. There was mud in his brown hair and he had a silly grin. He had told one of his servants to buy his commoner clothes—a tunic and pants with holes—and gave them a bit of extra money to keep their mouth shut.
It was time to meet up with Arthur and Peitar. As he pushed through the crowd, Talon heard wood cracking on wood and could barely keep his smile back. He turned the corner and saw Arthur and Peitar practicing with the wooden swords he’d bought for them. Of course, he had told them he made them.
His cover story was that he was a blacksmith apprentice called Tibold. Nobody questioned either his name or his role as a blacksmith.
Neither of his friends noticed him until Arthur smacked Peitar in the arm, making him yelp.
Before Arthur could continue his attack, Peitar waved for him to stop. “Tibold! We were beginning to think you wouldn’t make it,” he said and motioned for Talon to come over.
Talon went to meet them. His two friends wanted to become knights one day. He sneakily tried to teach them proper sword etiquette, as it was something they lacked. Most commoners didn’t get professionally trained like he did. He had been trained by the best swordsmen in Azzellia, but he couldn’t be blatant about his training or his friends would become suspicious of him.
“That was a good fight,” Talon lied. “Peitar, you could have blocked the attack. You need to keep a proper stance. Your feet were too close together, which is why you trip a lot.”
“I don’t know how you noticed that in the split second before you arrived,” Peitar laughed. His hair was a mess, flowing in the wind, and hadn’t been cut in months. Despite that, Peitar was an average-looking man. He wasn’t too skinny or fat but he wasn’t muscular either.
Arthur, on the other hand, looked like he could be a noble if he dressed up. He was a little taller than Talon, who was five feet seven inches and had bigger muscles. His hair was short, though it hadn’t been washed in some time. His sword technique wasn’t very good; he swung his weapon as hard and fast as he could, hoping to overpower his opponents.
“I get to see a lot of knights practicing,” Talon said. He reached out for one of the wooden swords and Peitar handed his over. He got into a fighting stance and put his sword into a defensive position. “I saw a knight fight like this recently and practiced his technique for over a week. This makes it easier to defend against an onslaught of attacks.”
“Oh yeah? I bet I can get past your guard.” Arthur had grinned cockily as he got into his fighting stance. It wasn’t really a stance: his legs were too close and his upper body leaned forward, betraying his intentions.
Talon fought back a smile. He could beat both of his friends at once but he had to act as though he didn’t know how to fight. “I’m ready when you are.”
Arthur began swinging his wooden sword ferociously. Talon tried to sloppily block each attack and dragged the fight out. He could have ended the fight after Arthur’s first swing, but he blocked several of Arthur’s attacks and countered, purposely hitting Arthur’s sword.
Several heartbeats later, Talon decided to end the fight and smacked Arthur in the chest. Peitar clapped excitedly. “That was amazing! I want to learn how to fight like that!” he exclaimed.
Arthur rubbed his chest while shaking his head. “I wasn’t expecting that. How do you do it? I swore I was going to hit you but then you got me!”
Talon explained in a little more detail about Arthur’s weakness and showed him the stance he should be using. Arthur was a quick learner; he had noticed that about his friend. He could see Arthur becoming a strong knight if he received the proper training.
Peitar wasn’t as talented and took a bit longer to learn the basics of a stance, though he kept forgetting and returned to his old habits. Arthur did that as well but not as often. It was hard to break bad habits, especially when that’s all you’d been practicing.
Time flew by as the three continued sparring, talking, and messing around. Talon intentionally lost some sparring matches to boost his friends’ confidence and to seem like he wasn’t all that skilled. Before long, Arthur and Peitar had to go help their parents.
As Talon waved goodbye, he noticed movement to his right and was startled. Standing next to him with a look of disapproval was his uncle, Besurlde, whose short beard made him look intimidating. Besurlde was wearing a leather shirt with an eagle patch on his right shoulder, showing him as part of the Astero family. His sword was hanging at his hip. On the handle of the weapon was a blood-red ruby, signaling his nobility.
“Uncle, how did you—”
“I have known where you go for some time now.” Besurlde gripped his nephew’s shoulder. “I made sure your friends didn’t notice me.”
Relief washed over Talon’s face. If Peitar or Arthur had seen his uncle, they’d know Talon wasn’t a commoner. “Thank you,” Talon said.
“Anyway,” Besurlde began as he took his hand off Talon’s shoulder. “Your father needs to speak with you.”
“About what?”
“Not sure.”
There was something in Besurlde’s tone that Talon didn’t like. That usually meant he would be standing with his father to listen to problems and provide solutions. He hated doing that, but if he complained, Lerin would tell him how important it was. He didn’t disagree but that didn’t make him want to go.
“Better get going then,” Talon sighed.
“You’ll want to bathe first,” Besurlde wrinkled his nose, causing Talon to laugh.
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They walked by a group of people who glanced at them curiously, most likely wondering what a noble was doing talking with Talon. Not wanting to delay any longer, Talon rushed forward with Besurlde matching his stride. The sooner they were out of here the better.
Once they walked into the palace grounds, the guards looked at Talon suspiciously but said nothing as Besurlde walked past with Talon next to him. The halls of the castle were fairly empty, with some servants moving about, carrying out their duties and ignoring Talon and his uncle.
Besurlde stopped at a door and motioned Talon to go through. Inside were two servants. Sellie was looking at him sternly while the other one was preparing his bath. He heard his uncle snickering before the door closed behind him.
“Playing in the mud again I see,” Sellie said and walked up to him. “Strip off your clothes. We’ll need to clean you extra well for your audience with the king. Fiona, is the bath ready?”
“Almost done,” Fiona responded.
Before Talon could say anything, Sellie shoved him into the bath. “In you go. Your father will be furious if you take too long,” she chided and began washing his back. Once the bath was filled, Fiona scrubbed his hair, and it was all he could do not to groan again. He hated when the servants washed him like this.
Sellie was not a woman to trifle with. She was very thorough and didn’t let you fool around, especially when time was short. Talon had thought he was being clever when he snuck out to hang with his friends but his father must have known and told Sellie to be ready.
“A prince shouldn’t be playing in the mud,” Sellie said with disgust as she made Talon spread his arms and got to his armpits. “One of these days you’ll have to understand, especially when you become king.”
“I won’t be king for many years,” Talon said, and he was glad of it. He didn’t want to be king, especially right now. Lerin wasn’t too old, only forty-seven. If it were up to him, he would have someone else become king before him but, alas, he was the only son. His mother had died when he was born and the king had never remarried.
“That may be so,” Sellie began as she grabbed a bucket of water and poured it over Talon’s head. “You never know what might happen. These are uncertain times with these rebellions popping up everywhere.”
Talon opened his mouth to respond and clamped it shut as another bucket of water splashed over his head. Sellie nodded to herself and motioned Fiona to step back. “That’s better. Now go get dressed and see your father.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Talon responded and got out of the bath. His clothes were laid out for him. As he expected, they were all fancy garments to show off his status as the prince. On the front and back of his tunic was the eagle insignia of his family.
Once dressed, he headed to the throne room. Talon opened the doors and held back a sigh at the sight of his father sitting on his throne wearing a crown and looking serious. Royal guards stood throughout the hall, with one positioned on each side of Lerin and four stationed by the main doors.
Ignoring the salutes from the guards, Talon walked up to his father, who stood as soon as he got close. “I have arrived,” Talon said and bowed slightly.
Lerin motioned for his son to come up the steps. The guards glanced at him but were otherwise focused on everywhere except for Lerin and Talon. He climbed the last step and stopped.
“You’re late,” Lerin said and waved his hand to stop Talon from responding. “I don’t need your excuses. We are holding an audience and I need you to make judgments today.”
“I know,” Talon said and looked around, wishing he didn’t have to be here. He had done judgments a couple of times and hated it. “Why can’t I do this when I’m older?”
“You’re fifteen years old. It’s time you took more part in ruling Azzellia,” Lerin said.
“I understand, but—”
“There are no exceptions,” Lerin interrupted. “You will sit next to me and judge. We have many people coming in today.”
With a resigned look, Talon nodded and took a seat next to his father. Why couldn’t he have had an older sibling? Ruling a kingdom was difficult. He’d seen how stressed his father got when things didn’t go as planned, especially if trouble was brewing in the other nations.
“Bring in the first petitioner,” Lerin commanded.
A group of people entered the hall: an old man, with two younger men and a woman. The guests bowed before speaking. Lerin poked Talon, who got the message on what to do.
“How can we help you?” Talon asked.
“Your grace, my name is Saladin Varkus and these are my sons and daughter,” the old man bowed as he spoke. “I come from a small village called Yacutan.”
Talon nodded as he listened. Yacutan was a small village close to the Shimmering Peaks, close to the borders of Malvarian. As prince, he was taught about all the villages and cities within Azzellia. Lerin had made sure he learned them by heart, testing him randomly even to this day.
“Bandits have been raiding our village for the past four months. Anyone who stands up to them is killed. We have no other options.”
Talon saw his father’s fists curl and wasn’t surprised at his anger. Bandits were nothing unusual, but frequent raids on one town was out of the ordinary. Why would a group of bandits be so foolish?
“How many people have these bandits killed?” Talon asked.
“At least a dozen, and they’ve done more,” Saladin said.
“More?” Talon asked.
The woman with them bowed her head and wiped tears from her eyes. “They’ve taken some of our children.”
Taking children? Talon had half a mind to deal with these bandits himself. “How large is this group?”
“At least twenty, from what I have seen, your grace,” Saladin said, patting his daughter’s shoulder.
Talon turned to the nearest guard. “Speak with Corvin and tell him to send one hundred troops to Yacutan to clear out these bandits.”
The guard bowed. “As you command, sire.”
“Thank you, your grace,” Saladin said.
“Come back tomorrow and you’ll leave with the soldiers. These bandits will be dealt with,” Talon said.
Giving his thanks, Saladin took his family and left.
The next couple of hours were full of people coming in. Some were seeking justice for murder or theft. One woman came in saying she had been raped by her husband’s brother and father. Talon had sentenced them both to hanging when her husband‚ in tears, said they admitted to the crime.
Other than the bandits, none of the cases required more than a few guards to be dispatched to search some areas or arrest some people. Most of the complaints were minor matters, usually theft. Thieves were given several opportunities to stop before severe punishment was meted out. Out of the eight thieves, one was sentenced to lose a hand for stealing for the fifth time. The man had cried, begging for one last chance as they usually did.
Finally, the last one was sent away and Lerin told the guards to let the people know that the audience was over. Talon leaned back in his chair and let exhaustion wash over him. His mind felt numb with all the complaints he had to listen to. Holding audiences like this was one of the many things he dreaded about becoming king.
After barely a minute of silence, the doors opened and Lerin whirled. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped when he realized who it was. In came the mage Qidan Bukervich, advisor to the king of Azzellia. The mage was not a large man, being a little taller than Talon, and wore a dark blue robe with the insignia on his right shoulder of a white-black orb, with half being white and the other black. Around the circle were smaller white dots and a hand wrapped around it.
Without bowing or waiting for permission, Qidan walked up the steps. “I see the prince is doing some work today,” Qidan observed.
It was hard for Talon to hold back his irritation. He hated mages.
“Yes. My son is helping with the audience today,” Lerin said politely. Even kings treated mages with proper respect.
“Excellent. I’m sure he’ll be a fine king.” Qidan’s voice had a mocking tone and Talon forced himself to stay calm. “I wanted to let you know that a power user robbed some nobles. I’m assisting some mages in hunting them down.”
“Do you need any help?” Lerin asked.
“No. Your men would only get in the way,” Qidan said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You’ll hear about a few more mages poking around until the culprits have been found.”
The fools, Talon thought. Using the power in any way was prohibited unless you were trained at Mortham Tower. If you tried to use the power otherwise, the mages would capture you. From there you had a few options. Train at the Tower and become a mage, or promise to never use the power again. If your crimes were bad enough, the power would be stripped away, leaving the user with no way ever to use the power again. Murders with the power were treated the same as a normal murder, usually resulting in execution.
“I see. If you need my assistance, let me know,” Lerin said.
Qidan turned his back on the king, and stretched out his right hand. A portal appeared in front of him. Talon couldn’t see where the portal went as the mage was in the way, but he assumed it went to Mortham Tower. Qidan stepped through and the portal winked out of existence.
Talon didn’t comment on Qidan. His father knew how he felt about the mages, and he was told repeatedly not to talk ill of them as there was nothing they could do about them.
“You did well today,” Lerin observed.
“You taught me that a good king listens to his people,” Talon said.
Lerin chuckled and motioned for Talon to follow him. “While true, you did give a little too much aid to some of the people. One hundred soldiers to Yacutan is too many. Most bandits can barely handle ten of our royal troops.”
“I wanted to be sure the bandits would be dealt with. I would rather commit too many than too few,” Talon said.
“I understand your reasoning, but you never know when you’ll need those men,” Lerin countered. “Your desire to help is admirable, but you have to think of other situations. The world is unsettled now, with wars and rebellions brewing everywhere.”
Yes, the world was unstable. Talon didn’t know how he felt about the conflicts that were spreading around.
“Anyway, you should do some sparring with the sword master. I’m sure you could use some real practice after play-fighting with those boys you like so much,” Lerin continued.
For some reason, Talon wasn’t surprised his father knew who he spent time with. As long as he wasn’t prevented from seeing them, he wouldn’t ask how Lerin knew. “I will do so. Thank you, father,” Talon said and walked off. A little sparring was just what he needed after the audience; his body could use the exercise.