Over the next several days after his coronation, Edric spent what free-time he had left practicing swordsmanship with Joren, his squire, and Feng, whom he’d appointed as Captain of the Royal Guard. It was one of the few pass-times that would keep him from having flashbacks to memories that were not truly his own.

Edric had a new practice sword made, a wooden weapon with two blades running parallel to each other. While he knew it was no substitute for the real Blood Brand, he also knew it would help to adjust to how different such a sword felt. In private, he would practice with the Blood Brand, and learn just how destructive its heat really was.

Sadly, Joren’s skills had not yet reached a level where Edric felt truly challenged when they sparred.

Edric caught Joren’s wooden sword between the two blades of his own and flicked his wrist to twist it from his squire’s grip. It skittered across the floor.

Joren’s jaw dropped, and he looked between Edric, Feng (who sat on a chair against the wall), and his practice weapon.

“Well?” Edric said, his golden eyes glaring at the boy. “Don’t just stand there, pick it up!”

Joren took one step toward his fallen sword, and Edric took the moment to lunge at him. The young squire rolled under Edric’s thrust, grasped the hilt of his practice weapon, and rose to a fighting stance just in time to frantically defend himself against a slew of attacks from Edric.

Within moments, Edric disarmed Joren again and sighed heavily. When Joren went to pick it up once more, Edric smacked him on the back with the flat of his wooden blade. “No. Don’t go for it again. Were this a real battle, you’d already be dead.”

Joren grunted and his shoulders sank. Under his breath, he mumbled, “In a real battle, I doubt I’d be facing you.”

Edric grinned at his squire. “Well, I’m glad to see you don’t think it possible we’ll ever cross blades for real, but you should know, there are far better swordsmen in the cosmos than me, lad.”

As they spoke, the door to the training room opened, and an elderly woman with round spectacles, a lavender robe, and silver jewelry decorating every place she could think to put it strolled past the racks of training weapons and the chair on which Feng sat. She held in one hand a clipboard and in the other a quill.

“Good day, Your Grace,” said the elderly woman, bending at her knees. Up close, Edric got a better look at her. Her gray hair hung down to the middle of her back. Her nose was hooked, with narrow nostrils. Her lips were painted red, and her eyelids gold. Her chin was unusually square for a woman’s chin, and her skin was the color of bronze.

“Matriarch Kabira,” said Edric with a friendly smile. “Always a pleasure.”

The elder woman caught her breath. “I say… have we met? I’ve been away from the palace...”

“We haven’t met,” said Edric, “But I recall you from my father’s memories. You were his foremost adviser.”

One corner of the Matriarch’s lip turned up. “And now I am yours, until such a time comes that you no longer wish to receive my counsel.”

“You did well enough for my father,” said Edric, returning his practice sword to a hook on the wall. “Do the same for me, and you’ll keep your position for many years to come. Before you advise me on what I must do next, Matriarch, I have a decree I would like to make, and I want you to take this down and pass it through the appropriate channels to see it is done.”

The Matriarch’s smile only widened and she raised her quill to the clipboard. “I thought as much. Tell me your will, Your Grace.”

“All the law books are still written in Old Eosian,” said Edric. “Which means that most people can’t read them, and must hire an advocate just to interpret the law for them.”

“A fact that keeps many advocate firms in business,” said the Matriarch.

“I’m sure,” said Edric, allowing a hint of disdain to enter his voice. “As a justicar, I encountered a great many common people who had broken the law merely because they could not read it for themselves. I want all law books in every province translated into the modern tongue.”

The Matriarch caught her breath. “Are you certain, Your Majesty? A great many advocate firms will lose money over this.”

Edric folded his arms. “And a great many commoners will avoid finding themselves on the wrong side of the law. I think this is the more pressing issue. Shall we spread disease so that physicians may turn a profit? I think not. Please write it down, Matriarch.”

“Yes, Sire,” said the Matriarch, scrawling notes on the parchment of her clipboard. “Now, with that out of the way, I’d like to offer you my advice if I may.”

“Yes, of course,” said Edric.

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Joren walked over to the chairs and sat beside Feng, who was busy taking a whet stone to his sword.

The Matriarch asked, “Will you be keeping with the tradition that most Princes have followed? That of taking many wives?”

“Yes,” said Edric, “I think that’s best.”

Joren grunted his shock, but immediately covered his mouth.

Edric turned to his squire. “Do you have something to say, lad?”

“I… no, Sir Edric,” said Joren.

“Your Grace!” The Matriarch corrected him.

Joren stammered and wrung his hands. “Sorry. Your Grace.”

Edric raised a hand to calm him and chuckled. “It’s quite alright, Joren. But I’m afraid you misunderstood my question. I’m not asking if there’s anything you want to say, I’m requesting that you speak your mind. If you refuse, I may make it a command.”

“Your Grace?” said Joren, his voice growing increasingly nervous.

“Come now,” said Edric, “You are my squire, but you are also my friend. I wish to know if my friend disapproves of my decisions and I would like to know why so that I may explain myself if necessary. Or, so that I may change my course of action.”

“I just…” Joren stammered a moment longer and scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve never much liked that tradition. For the rest of us, polygamy is a crime, but the Prince gets to take many wives? It always seemed so hypocritical.”

Edric chuckled once more. “In a way, I suppose it is. But, you must understand the reason why. It’s not merely so that the Prince may satisfy his lusts with many women, Joren. It is so that he may produce as many heirs as possible so that the sages have many to choose from. Matriarch, would you care to explain it to him?”

The Matriarch bowed her head to Edric. “Yes, Your Grace. In times past, when Princes only took one wife, they would often only produce two or three heirs, and the sages had to choose between the weak one, the greedy one, or the cruel one to take his place. That’s how we ended up with Prince Yasin the Mad.” All in the room cringed at the sound of his name. “Sometimes, having taken only one wife, Princes produced no heirs at all, and the sages had to pick from among his brothers or cousins. That’s how Prince Habib the Foolish came to power. So, the sages started a tradition that the Prince was allowed to marry multiple wives so that he may produce many heirs. With so many children born to each Prince, at least one was sure to turn out worthy to take the throne.”

“Ah,” was all Joren said in reply.

“Remember to be honest with me,” said Edric to his squire. “We are still friends, you and I, even if my station has changed. I still would prefer you to speak your mind, as there are times that I’ve found your insights, simple as they might be, invaluable.”

“Umm… thank you, Your Grace,” said Joren.

Edric returned his attention to the Matriarch. “Back to business. I’m assuming you have some suggestions about who I might marry?”

“Yes, Sire.” The Matriarch flipped over a sheet of paper on her clipboard and peered through her spectacles at her notes. “Upon your coronation, a great many eligible ladies have sent their letters asking to be considered. Only a few, so far, have stood out. The one I favor the most is Lady Mahsa of the Salt Valley.”

“The Salt Valley?” Edric scratched through the red stubble on his chin. “That’s on the dark side of Eos, isn’t it?”

“It is,” said the Matriarch. “The Dark-Dwellers are often ill-represented in Eosian politics, despite their hard work in the mines. Marrying Lady Mahsa will send a message to the Dark-Dwellers that they have not been forgotten.”

There mere fact that the mention of Dark-Dwellers brought no memories from past princes to Edric’s mind punctuated the Matriarch’s point.

Edric folded his hands. “What about Lady Mahsa herself? If it were simply about marrying a Dark-Dweller I’m sure there are millions of women to choose from.”

The Matriarch adjusted her spectacles and said, “By all reports, Lady Mahsa is much beloved by her people. She is known to be wise, strong, and a great orator.”

“Very well,” said Edric. “Send for her. I would meet her before agreeing to anything. Is there anyone else who’s caught your eye at this time?”

The Matriarch turned over another parchment and read over her notes. “Dr. Briony of the Ophidia Riverlands.”

“That’s on the south side of Eos, yes?” said Edric.

“Indeed,” said the Matriarch. “For her age, she’s one of the most accomplished physicians in the world, and she’s found a number of different plants in the jungles that have cured diseases we’ve long believed to be a death sentence.”

“Sounds like a fascinating woman,” said Edric. “Send for her as well. Any others?”

“No others at this time, Sire,” said the Matriarch. “Though, I might suggest having some manner of banquet or party so that other young ladies may come to the palace and present themselves as potential brides.”

Edric raised an eyebrow. “So I may choose them based on their social graces and beauty rather than accomplishments and political clout?”

“Indeed, Sire,” said the Matriarch. “And maybe you will fall in love at the party and find happiness. Everyone deserves a chance to be happy, Your Grace.”

Edric’s head swayed side to side, causing his long, scarlet hair to brush along his back. “Only fools fall in love, Matriarch. The wise grow to love those they’ve committed themselves to. Those who fall in love may fall out of love, but those who grow into love put down strong roots.”

The Matriarch chuckled. “I find that’s often true, but that few men have such control over their desires.”

“I am not like most men,” said Edric in full confidence. “Go ahead and make arrangements for a party. You may decide the details of the event yourself, or appoint someone to work all of that out. I have neither time nor gift for party planning. Is that all you wanted to speak to me about today, Matriarch?”

“It is, Your Grace,” said Kabira.

“Then, before you go, I have one more thing for you,” said Edric. “Assign spies to keep an eye on Quillon and the Regime soldiers he brought with him. He challenged me openly, and I doubt that’s the last we’ll hear of him.”

“Spies are already watching him, Your Grace,” said the Matriarch. “But I will ensure that you are informed the moment he does anything suspicious.”

“Good,” said Edric. “Now, if there’s nothing else, I wish to continue my swordsmanship training.”

Joren jumped up from his seat, but Edric motioned for him to sit again.

“No,” said Edric. “I’d prefer to fence with Feng. I need to improve my own skills for a while, and I’m afraid you just don’t offer enough challenge for me.”