Sensing no judgement and a sincere desire to get along, Alistar answered with a smile as they walked parallel to the hedges that lined much of the manor house. Today was a beautiful day, with clear skies that left a slight glare on the nearby windows.
“It was a few years back, yes.”
“Where were you living before that?” When there was a hesitant pause, the older boy raised his free hand and shook his sable head. “You don’t need to say. If Uncle Caedmon took you in, then I doubt you were living in the best of circumstances. He’s a good man, our uncle.”
“He is,” Alistar agreed. “By the way, that’s a fine sword if I’ve ever seen one. My master still has me wielding a wooden one.”
“I had a feeling you were a swordsman. What style do you practice?”
“Crown Style.”
“Ah, I should have figured. It’s the same for me.”
Alistar paid attention to the steadiness of the young man’s strides and the subtle fluidity of his movements. “You’re an adept, aren’t you?”
Appearing slightly amused, Johan pulled back his cloak to reveal a shield-shaped badge that was similar to the ones that Edmun and Calum had shown off, though the three black stripes on it were contrasted with a yellow background. “I’m surprised you noticed.”
“That’s amazing…”
Three stripes? He’s a third-tier adept!
“It’s still far from where I want to be. What about you?” asked Johan, navigating around a puddle that the horses then splashed their way through with careless steps. “Do you have your badge on you?”
Alistar shook his head, a bit embarrassed. “My master refuses to give me one. The last time I asked him, he answered me with a smack of his cane.”
“His cane? Who’s your teacher? You still use a wooden sword…don’t tell me it’s Master Tramon?”
“I…” Alistar didn’t want to discuss his master around his relatives, since he knew they weren’t on good terms. “Forgive me, but my master forbade me from sharing his name with others.”
“You seem like a decent fellow, Alistar. I’ll give you fair warning. Don’t tell my father that Tramon is here, or our uncle Daniel for that matter. Things won’t go well if those three meet.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the advice, Johan.”
“It’s what family should do,” said the young man, whose eyes took on an odd sense of distance as they stared blankly at the clouds above. “At least what normal ones should do. You really drew a bad lot to end up as a Silverkin. You’ll probably be summoned to the capital soon to swear fealty to Grandfather.”
“You think I will?”
“All Silverkins have to, even the bastards. You’ll also be forced to allow a seal of submission to be placed on you, though I can’t say much more else the old man will sense it.”
“Sense it? Isn’t he over a hundred leagues away?”
“You underestimate the power of his seal. If we become emotional while thinking about him, he’ll be aware of it. That applies to hundreds of acknowledged Silverkins, and hundreds of bastards more.”
Alistar’s thoughts took on a slight sense of anxiety as he led his cousin to the stables, for according to Johan he would likely have to visit the capital shortly after his fifteenth birthday. That had been the case for the young man and his brothers, and also for Edmun and Calum.
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
They settled the horses without any problems, Johan stopping to compliment Star and quipping about the wit in Alistar giving his horse the second half of his own name. They returned to the manor house in short order, Alistar leading the way through the grandly decorated halls as they hurried to rejoin with the others. Surprisingly, while passing through the art hall, Johan stopped to appreciate some of the artwork, specifically the one that Alistar’s mother had painted.
“I’ve met the artist of this one, you know.”
Alistar tried to sound casual. “Did you? How was it?”
“I don’t remember much, since I was very young, but my parents used to leave me in her care whenever they left the capital. She wasn’t allowed to leave the palace back then, but her and Uncle Caedmon spent a lot of time with me in those days.”
“Was she also a Silverkin?”
“One of the only decent ones, yes. Many years might have passed, but I still remember her face.” Looking at Alistar with an odd perceptiveness, he went on, “Her eyes are the one thing that I’ll never forget. These silver irises of ours aren’t known to carry much warmth, but hers were different.” He paused to add emphasis to his next words. “I could recognize them anywhere.”
A chill went down Alistar’s spine, though he tried not to show any discomfort or wariness. “What happened to her?”
“She was sacrificed to avoid a war, or so I’ve heard. Rather than turn their swords toward Civus, the kingdom she married into ended up falling into civil war.”
Alistar felt a heavy weight in his heart, thinking of the only kingdom to see a civil war in the past two decades. He finally knew for certain the province in Baldor that his father hailed from.
The Kingdom of Loyarre…
When a short silence ensued, Johan ran a finger down the length of the painting’s ornate frame and then resumed walking down the hallway. “What we talked about on the way to the stables, and here now. I think it best that these words stay between us.”
“I agree, but I need to ask; why say such things in the first place? We only just met.”
“It’s a good thing to have friends in this family. You’ll know what I mean in due time.” In a lower tone, he said, “It’s also a good thing that Father and Uncle Daniel only interacted with the artist of that painting a few times in their lives.”
“I’m ignorant of the artist, but it must be true if you say so.”
Johan smiled though didn’t continue, steering the conversation in a different direction. They spent the rest of the walk talking about their favourite stances of the Crown Style’s apprentice stratum, though Alistar’s mind was reeling all throughout. Had Johan deduced his identity simply from childhood memories of his aunt’s face? It was difficult to believe considering that Alistar’s features were nearly duplicate of his father’s. Suddenly he was reprimanding himself for not making his eyes blue, which was also common within the Silverkin clan.
As the two of them entered the dining hall and settled in seats that were distant from one another, Alistar was trying to remain calm as he ruminated over what had just happened. Can I trust him? The young man seemed agreeable enough, but Alistar knew that rashly confiding in or trusting a stranger, even if they were related, was an unwise decision. Still, Johan had left the strongest impression out of all of his relatives, having guessed his master of swordsmanship and deduced his lineage within a matter of minutes after their first meeting. He’d also had the tact to suggest keeping such things hidden from the others, including his father, though Alistar had no guarantee that Johan would keep his word.
I need to tell Uncle Caedmon as soon as the chance arises.
“Alie, hurry up and fix your plate.”
Reacting with a start as Anice poked him with her fork, Alistar decided to clear his mind for now and raised his awareness. Usually his reactions were subconscious and immediate, which was a state of mind that he felt was necessary at the moment.
Just as he was beginning to pile food onto his plate, Edmun came over after talking with his father and rested his hands on the back of his chair.
“Hey Cousin, be a friend and lend me your seat, would you? I haven’t seen Anice in years and would like to catch up with her.” Wearing an impatient look, he tucked a loose strand of hair beneath his silver circlet as he waited for Alistar to relocate.
“How could I turn down family?” said Alistar, who wasn’t intent on wasting any energy on the boy. Gathering his utensils, he began heading to the seat beside Lessa but connected eyes with Calum, who was also walking away from a brief conversation with his father. Anticipating similar behavior, he found a place farther down the table. Now that nobody was on his right side, he glanced to the left to see if either of his uncles were paying any attention to him and was relieved to see that they weren’t. It didn’t pass his notice that Antoine was sitting at the head of the table, not Caedmon, and that the man’s sword was still belted to his waist. Unlike the others, he hadn’t removed it for the sake of comfort.