“Hey! Henric!” someone called across the yard. He wanted to turn his head and look, but he had no time. Instead, he brought his sword up to block Jaren’s. The older boy twisted his sword, and wrenched Henric’s from his grip.

“Give up?” Jaren’ blade was at Henric’s throat.

“You win, Jaren,” said Henric, grabbing the blunted edge with his gloved hand and shoving it away from him. He looked around for whoever had called for him, but saw only the usual crowd of servants and stable hands worming their way through the garrison at drill.

“You’ll fare better when you can keep that sword in your hands,” said Jaren as he handed Henric back his sword.

“Thanks...”

Jaren was only a year older than Henric and the closest in the garrison to him in age and experience, but had at least forty pounds on him. Their first sparring match had reminded Henric of something his father had told him about the scarcity of fair fights. He was just glad he hadn’t ended up in the dirt this time.

“Henric!”

“Megan!” He smiled when he saw the girl and her brother standing on the other side of a hay bale that marked the training ring.“Mathev! Hey guys!”

As he ran over to them, the acorn haired girl climbed up onto the bale and jumped at him. He almost wanted to dodge out of the way, before realizing he was supposed to catch her. Instead all he managed was to break her fall into the dirt blow. Henric heard some of the men at arms laughing.

“You were supposed to catch me,” she said.

“Lords Above Megan, you almost killed him,” said her twin as he climbed over the bale after her.

“No,” grunted Henric. He wedged an arm beneath himself, and rolled the girl off of him into the dirt and straw. He took Mathev’s outstretched hand to pull himself up. “I’m fine.”

Megan was already back on her feet, brushing dirt and hay off of her modest green dress and giving her brother a death glare. “That’s not funny Matt.”

It took a moment for Mathev to catch his sister’s meaning, and a look of horror struck his face. “Oh no! Henric I’m so sorry! Are you alright?”

“Of course I am, don’t worry about it,” said Henric. Looking at them, he realized how sweaty he was in his gear. “Here, follow me. I’ve got to get these off.”

They followed him through the yard to the armory where he hung up his training sword and tried to remove his leathers himself. Unfortunately, the knot on his back had slipped just out of his reach. The twins giggled at the sight.

“A little help?” asked Henric. Megan reached over and undid the knot with a single tug on the leather strap.

“Ew,” she said. “You stink.”

“So would you if you’d been up since dawn in the yard with Jaren.”

“I don’t think I’d mind that,” she said, looking over her shoulder into the yard. Henric hung his armor back on the rack.

“You wouldn’t,” said Mathev. “C’mon, let’s go.” He motioned to the door out to the castle. “Our lord’s got a lot of catching us up to do.”

They walked back to the castle, Megan a step ahead of the two boys. They had been gone for the last year in the Capitol with their father Marek.

"When did you get in?" asked Henric.

"Last night," said Mathev. "We went home first. I never realized how much I missed my own bed."

"Not me, I never wanted to come back," said Megan. "Nothing compares to the capital."

"So you liked it there?" asked Henric.

She turned around, walking backwards as she spoke. "You've been there right? All the people, the singers, the ships! I'm sorry, but home doesn't even compare."

"Don't listen to her Henric. It wasn't really as great as all that."

They let themselves into the mess hall by a side door. It was late in the breakfast hour, and only a few stragglers were scattered about the simple tables. Their conversations echoed off the hard stone walls, filling the room with the sound of a thousand whispers.

"Megan!“ squeaked a girly voice on the other side of the hall, silencing all conversation. Beth, Henric's sister stood, skidding her chair back against the stone and rushed around the table to hug the younger girl. Beth was a year older than Henric, and had been friends with the twins as long as he had. "Gods Megan I've missed you!“

"I missed you too Beth! I hope my letters were enough to stave off your boredom without me around."

Henric and the twins sat down at the table with Beth and their other sister, Adelin.

"I missed you too Megan," said Adelin. She had always looked up to the older girl. Where Beth had always needed Megan's prodding to keep up with the boys, Adelin tried to emulate the older girl in everything she did. "Did you have any adventures in the capital?"

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Loads!“ said Megan. "I can't wait to tell you all about them."

"It's nice to see you ladies again too," said Mathev, looking a bit dejected. Henric was too busy eating to add to the conversation, training made him hungry.

The girls went on gossiping and catching each other up on all the fashions and intrigues that they had missed. When the conversation veered towards boys, Henric gave Mathev an elbow nudge.

"Let's get out of here," he whispered. His friend nodded, and they got up from the table. "See you ladies later." They were ignored.

"I'm sorry about your dad," said Mathev as the crested stairs to the top of the wall. "He was a really good man." The sun was bright that morning and the day would be a warm one. From up here they could see almost everything in the valley below, birds flying from tree to tree, the farmers across the river in their fields, and right below them they could watch the bustle of the city.

"Thanks, Matt," said Henric. He didn't know what else to say to that. He'd gotten plenty of condolences in the month since his father's death, and simply run out of gracious thank yous.

"But it's kind of exciting right? Being a lord now?"

Henric laughed. "Less so than we always imagined it would be..." He thought back on all the documents he had to sign, some to reconfirm his father's appointees, others approving official expenditures on supplies for construction projects in the city and the castle. "A lot of signing papers, and a whole lot of 'important ceremonial duties'. And my life is constantly in danger. I haven't left the castle since my father's funeral."

“Shit,” said Mathev. “So someone really did try to kill you?”

Henric’s held up his hands in the air so they framed the sides of his head. “They missed by this much. The arrow stuck in my father’s casket instead.”

Mathev was silent for a moment, looking out over the city. "So how do we catch this guy? Do you have any leads?"

Henric looked at his childhood friend. He'd gotten taller in his year away, and seemed more serious than the boy he used to play knights and bandits with. "I don't know Mathev. Lucan and the watch have been searching the city for a week and found no trace of any assassin. I'm afraid they'll turn up nothing."

"Oh. But you're not going to stay up here forever, right? That's not very 'ducal'."

This time it was Henric's turn for contemplative silence. Mathev was right, of course. If he really wanted to live up to his birthright, he couldn't spend the rest of his life afraid for it. But did he? He had thought about letting Zak or Samael assume the title instead, or possibly passing it to one of his lord cousins. Then he wouldn't have to rule, his life wouldn't be in constant danger. He would even have his chance next week when the lords Aldrimar met for Council. Somewhere deep inside himself though, he knew he was being foolish. He could almost hear his father shouting at him, "You would surrender your birthright? You would run away from the life you were meant for? Then you have no right to call yourself Aldrimar."

"No, I suppose I can't," said Henric.

"Good. I thought I was going to need to find a new best friend."

"There they are," said a voice on the stairs behind them. Both boys turned to see Marek, chancellor of Zaksburg and Gareth Aldrimar's right hand man, with Samael right behind. Marek reached out a hand and offered it to him. "Henric my boy, good to see you again. Or should I say 'my lord'?"

"You can call me whatever you like, unofficially," said Henric. "Officially though, it's best to use my honors."

Marek chuckled a moment before turning to his son. "Sorry to do this to you son, but there is important business for Henric and I to discuss. Watchmaster Lucan has arrived with a report for my lord."

Mathev sighed. "Alright, I'll find something to entertain myself."

Henric knew how he felt being left out of the important conversations, a few weeks ago he would have been right there with his friend. "I'll see you soon Mathev. Maybe I'll finally beat you with a sword."

Mathev gave him a goofy grin and took up a fencing stance. "Just because you've been practicing a little? I grew, Henric, you don't stand a chance."

Henric shook his head and grinned. "Just... Thanks Matt. I'm glad you're back."

Lucan was waiting for them with Zak in the council chamber conversing with Zak.

“Have you ever seen Roban fight? Now there’s a tough bastard,” said Zak.

“He doesn’t have anything on Varnen,” said Lucan. “Roban’s big sure, but I’ve watched Varnen slip get behind a man and send his knees before the crowd could even start cheering for him.”

“Don’t get me wrong Luc, Varnen’s good. But I’ve fought Roban, and blocking one of his blows felt like my arm was gonna be ripped off.”

“He almost did, didn’t he?” asked Lucan.

“No,” said Samael. “He just dislocated it. I remember that fight, there was a moment there I almost thought you had him Zak.”

When he looked up and saw Henric, Lucan snapped back onto his feet at attention. “My lord! I have news to report.”

“Is it about the assassin?” asked Henric as he descended past concrete benches to the chamber floor, past Lucan. The council chamber was a large room on the southeast side of the castle, with large windows looking out over the river and the countryside below. Henric’s official seat was at the table high on a raised platform with his back to these windows, and if he looked down from there it seemed as though there were no ground below him. As he sat, Marek and Samael sat on either side of him and Zak climbed his way into one of the chairs at the very end.

“No, my lord. There was an incident at Saint Elberts, a robbery.”

“At Saint Elberts? Truly? What was stolen?” Henric was surprised. He had thought the monastery served largely as a residence hall for the holy men in service to the cathedral and was hardly the place he would have suspected of a robbery.

“A bit more than half a pound of something called loamsalt,” said Lucan.

“Loamsalt?” asked Henric.

“It is an essential ingredient to the seventh oil of the Rites,” said Samael. “It’s quite a process to derive it, and half a pound would go for...” He stopped to do the calculation in his head. “At least five goldens.”

“But why?” asked Zak, stealing Henric’s question before it left his lips. “What good is the stuff?”

Everyone looked to Samael for an answer. “Some butchers use it to salt their meats. It’s expensive, but to rob priests for it?” Samael shook his head.

“When did this happen Lucan?” asked Henric.

“The night before last, my lord. I will have my men question the city’s butchers.”

Good old Lucan. Henric could see why his father had appointed Lucan. In his five years as a watchman, Lucan had proved he was able to outwit and apprehend a remarkable number of nerdowells, and his two years as captain had transformed the Watch into a fine tuned machine of justice. “Good. No need to bring anyone in, just ask about their sources, but don’t forget, I want a report as soon as possible. Thank you Lucan. You are dismissed.”

The captain’s tension fell away and he turned on his heels towards the chambers double doors. Beside him, the others were making to stand as well. “Oh, one more thing,” said Henric. “I don’t want any word of this getting out to the Lords Aldrimar when they arrive tomorrow. Not about this, and not about the assassin. Understood?”