Three hours, a bit of blood, and what felt like a third of his weight in sweat all gone, replaced with leaden fatigue and aching muscles. How he hated sword practice.
Raynor Kadrosar, Prince of Cercedeon, collapsed on his side into the shallow sand, panting harder than a dog. He flopped over to his back and covered his face with his right arm to shield from the sun. His left ached almost too much to move. //This is far from the worst thing I’ve experienced, but it ranks high. Damn you father for forcing me to do this.//
A shadow crept over him. His tutor strolled up to where he lay, and hummed an upbeat tune. “This makes a new record for you, my prince. Good to see your stamina improving, if nothing else.” His tutor said, nudging Raynor with the toe of his boot.
Raynor groaned. “Better than nothing, I guess.” They had been at this for hours today, and many many more over the past couple of months, dutifully but futilely working to hone his abysmal swordsmanship. All he had to show for this work was a little more tone on his muscles and a multitude of scrapes and cuts over his upper body. Though they used dulled blades they practiced bare chested while the summer lasted. “That won’t change come winter.” His tutor had said at the beginning. “Pain and discomfort is a lesson.” Today he had graced Raynor with a fine cut just below his collarbone for “wavering in the thick of battle.” //As if anyone wouldn’t waver all hot and sweaty and tired.//
He slid his arm away to look up at the man; as he suspected his tutor was wearing a smug and mirthful grin on his face. The expression was his standard look, though it was particularly intense now.
Duke Baradric Halmind, head of the House of Halmind, one of the five great families of Cercedeon second only to the Kadrosars, and the First Advisor to the Crown, had volunteered to tutor Raynor personally when his father, King Assarian, had requested people skilled in the way of swords to train him. His father accepted instantly, to no one’s surprise. Certainly, there was no one more fit to teach the art of the blade, the Duke was renowned across the kingdom for his swordsmanship, skill that he claimed rivaled that of Cercedeon’s first king; but only rivaled, of course, nobody could ever be superior to the first king.
“You know, I’m starting to think that you’re doing this on purpose.” Baradric said, teasingly and with relaxed familiarity. Not many people spoke so with Raynor. “I’ve never had a student that hasn’t learned something by now.”
The Duke bent down and extended a hand.
[[Take his hand.]]
[[Leap up and attack.]]Raynor took it and Baradric lifted him from the ground. Not just a skilled swordsman, Baradric Halmind was built like a sword too, tall and lean but with wide shoulders, and was toned and muscled as though he were a statue of himself. He had amber eyes that shined with youthful vigor even at forty-four years of age and a full head of copper-red hair; he kept it shaved short on the sides with more volume on top, just long enough to show how it curled. Raynor had taken to wearing his hair the same way, though he was loath to admit that it was out of imitation as Baradric had deduced. The Duke aged gracefully and was enviously handsome in a way that tended to captivate both Raynor’s thoughts and attention.
“You’ve taught me plenty of things since I was a boy, Baradric,” Raynor said. “but this isn’t going to be one of them.”
The Duke laughed and patted him on the back. “Don’t be so certain, my prince. I never give up, and neither should you.”
Raynor wiped sweat from his brow. “There is a point, you know, where persistence becomes insanity.”
“Now now, don’t be so hard on yourself. You need to learn somehow. A proper man knows how to wield a sword, and since you’re about to be the most eligible bachelor in the kingdom, you need to be a proper man.”
[["Let's not talk about that."]]
[["I'm man enough."]]
[["What are you insinuating?"]] Raynor swatted it away, then suddenly sprang to his feet. Unwilling to admit defeat, he roared and swung his sword at Baradric with all the force and strength he could muster.
Force and strength, however, were in short supply for him. The Duke sidestepped him with ease; with an exxagerated yawn he he swung his own blade hard into Raynor's back. He hit with the blade's side but the strike still stung enough to make Raynor gasp out. He stumbled and fell back down, face first. He tasted sand.
"Tsk tsk, my prince." Baradric said. "Attacking your opponent when he offers you a hand is not only dishonorable, but so very predictable as well. You're supposed to be more clever than that."
Head pounding, Raynor rose to his knees and spat out sand. "If I'm clever, you'd never expect me to act otherwise now would you? I'm not as predictable as you might think."
Baradric let otu a hearty laugh. "Yes, but I predicted you would try something along those lines." He offered his hand again.
[[Take his hand.]] Raynor grimaced. “Let’s not talk about that.”
“Fine, as you wish.” Baradric sighed. “Would you prefer I mercilessly taunt you over your ineptitude with a sword then?”
The two men laughed. Duke Baradric’s friendly demeanor tended to irritate others more often than not, especially when at court, but Raynor did not mind him at all. He had been fond of the man since he was a boy, and considered him one of his closest, and few, friends.
“Well, I suppose we ought to call it a day. You should shower yourself before the dinner feast.” He said.
Time had gotten away from them. They were in the walled sparring grounds of the palace, called Edosina, and the slowly setting sun had already half disappeared behind it. The sprawling palace, seat of government and Raynor’s home, shadowed them in all its aged majesty.
“The same goes for you.” Raynor retorted.
“Actually I’m in the mood for a nice bubble bath right now.” Baradric said when he had strode back to Raynor. “Something to unwind me, Halicia knows I’ll need all my good spirits for the feast tonight. I suspect it will be a rather dour affair, what with our ‘guests’ set to arrive on the morrow.”
Guests was a very polite way of referring to them. The thought made Raynor scowl. “Perhaps I could use the same.” He said, looking to the horizon.
“Everyone could use the same, frankly.” Baradric said with a chuckle. He extended an arm. “I’ll see you at supper then.”
“See you then.” Raynor smiled back and took his arm. They clasped each other at the elbows and shook.
As they did, Raynor’s gaze turned back to Edosina, and that was when he spotted her, watching them like a sparrow on the balcony that overlooked the sparring ground.
She wore a black cloak of bear fur. She had her hair, dark brown like his, undone so that it flowed in full length down her back and waved in the gentle wind; her bangs were cut to perfectly frame her face. She was holding a gray tabby cat in her arms. Raynor’s cat.
Vyana. His twin sister.
Her gray eyes found his, and she smiled at him.
[[Smile back.]]
[[Scowl.]]Double-click this passage to edit it.some somthingFor once, Raynor smiled back. She could not sour his good mood now. So long as she did not think to come down to them.
“Hmm, wonder how long she’s been there.” Baradric said, his attention also drawn to her. “The Princess does have a talent for stealth.”
"That she does, among other things."
"You know, I think that's the first time I've seen her smile in months. She’s gotten more and more glum over these weeks.” He crossed his arms. “That will have to change soon, what with her being on the cusp of finally meeting her fiance.”
//It would need to change,// Raynor thought, chuckling to himself. //Too bad that's what's making her glum. If only you knew just how much it was eating at her.// He did not envy her, the notion of arranged marriages had never sat right with him, and this was by no means an ordinary arranged marriage. This would be history in the making. In a way, he actually pitied his sister.
He retrieved the rest of his clothing and strode into the palace, followed at a respectful distance by two guards. As he walked back to his quarters he thought back to six months ago, to the celebration of his and Vyana’s twenty-second birthday, and his mood improved. Of all the gifts he had received, none had been as glorious as his parents’ surprise announcement of the engagement. The looks of astonishment on peoples’ faces then brought a grin to his now.
Raynor rounded a corner, and found himself suddenly face to face with Vyana. Pounce meowed softly in her arms.
"Gods!" He said, startled.
Vyana chuckled meekly. "Good afternoon to you to, Rain. Sorry."
He glanced back quickly to make the sure the guardsmen were still following him. Despite still sweating he pulled on his shirt. "You too, sister." He grumbled as he did the buttons. "Do you need something?"
"I..." She looked past him to the guardsmen, thne turned her eyes down. "I was hoping I could speak with you before supper, in private."
[[Say yes.]]
[[Say no.]]Her gray eyes found his, and she smiled at him. He did not smile back.
A true vision of Cercedinian beauty, pride of the whole kingdom, and many other epithets that greatly irritated Raynor had been spun about her over the years. Even dressed down as she was now that vaunted beauty was evident. No sooner had they become adults that suitors had started making themselves known, vying to have that pretty face for themselves, and the prestige of marrying the presumed heir. She had always been the center of attention.
“Hmm, wonder how long she’s been there.” Baradric said, his attention also drawn to her. “The Princess does have a talent for stealth.”
Raynor gritted his teeth, not responding.
Baradric went on. “I think that’s the first time I’ve seen her smile in months. She’s gotten more and more glum over these weeks.” He crossed his arms. “That will have to change soon, what with her being on the cusp of finally meeting her fiance.”
It would. If only that was not the reason she was so morose. //If only you knew just how much it was eating at her.// Raynor thought with a chuckle. He did not envy her, the notion of arranged marriages had never sat right with him, and this would be no ordinary arranged marriage. This would be history in the making.
He retrieved the rest of his clothing and strode into the palace, followed at a respectful distance by two guards. On the way back to his quarters he thought back to six months ago, to the celebration of his and Vyana’s twenty-second birthday, and his mood improved. Of all the gifts he had received, none had been as glorious as his parents’ surprise announcement of the engagement. The looks of astonishment on peoples’ faces then brought a grin to his now.
His sister had been engaged, without her knowledge, to Darion Oushendrallon, the Grand Prince of the Tristomeryan Empire, second child of the late Anastazja and Morvellian. The same people who had brought Cercedeon into subjugation a quarter of a century ago. In exchange, the remaining war debt the kingdom had to pay, of which there was plenty, would be cleared.
Ever since, the announcement had caused a great stir in Cercedeon from top to bottom. This would be the first time a Kadrosar would marry from beyond the kingdom, and to its overlords no less. It was in violation of the law, which stated that they must marry into the domestic nobility, but that was where Raynor would come into play.
//Most eligible bachelor indeed.// The pair of guards took post by his door as Raynor entered his quarters. He tossed his clothes aside and went straight to the bath. He sat on the marble edge as the faucet ran, his mind on the future near at hand.
He and Vyana were twins, but since she had come out of their mother’s womb first, that somehow mader her “older” in a way that Raynor had never been able to see as anything other than total nonsense. Thus, she was the presumptive heir. Or at least she was before this. Everyone was certain that this Darion would take her back to his own realm on the mainland, which meant naturally that Raynor was now the heir. He could see himself now as the King, savored it; every day the wait grew just a little bit harder but he needed to be patient, as one of his mentors said often. But patience was in short supply when it came to this. Everything they had planned would be all the easier if he was already the King, and he was eager to see those plans realized.
Once the tub was full he sank into the hot water, letting the feeling of weightlessness carry him away from his mortal troubles for a while. Just a little while longer, and they would be gone permanently.
[[Stay in the bath and relax.]]
[[Get out.]] At some point, Raynor drifted into sleep, and was roused by something fine tickling his face, and something damp and rough running across his cheek. He opened his eyes just a tad and saw his cat, Pounce, crouching on the tub’s edge and licking his face, purring softly.
His eyes widened when he saw Vyana sitting a few feet away.
“Gods!” He exclaimed. He bumped his elbow on the wall as he reared up.
“Good evening to you too, Rain.” Vyana said.
Raynor leapt out of the bath and threw a towel around himself. “What the fuck are you doing in here? What have you been doing to me?”
“I was only returning Pounce.” She said, sounding hurt and looking to the floor.
“And watching me sleep!”
“You looked so at peace. I haven’t seen you like that since before you left.”
“Get out!” He whipped a hand towards the door.
She gathered up her cloak around herself and walked out of the bath room, avoiding looking at him. “I’ll see you at supper then.” She called meekly as she exited his quarters.
Raynor ran a hand through his hair and sighed, exasperated. There went one of his troubles. //At peace, by Halicia! He thought.//
Once he had dried off, and calmed down, he set to dressing himself for the supper feast. This would be the last night before the imperials arrived, and he wanted to make a clear show of his national pride to everyone in attendance before they did. Best for as many people as possible to know who to stand with in the future. It took little thought to decide on his shirt; made from imported silk but colored purple with orange filigree. Cercedeon’s national colors.
He put on a frock coat, and was ready to leave for the dining hall when Pounce clawed at his pants. The cat meowed loudly at him.
“I’ve not forgotten about you or your dinner.” Raynor said, scooping him into his arms. “I’ll take you to the kitchens first like I always do, you self-centered beast.”
Pounce meowed again, and batted a paw at Raynor’s chin.
//But for now I must play along.// He thought. With a heavy sigh Raynor rose out from the tub, thne hurriedly grabbed a towel as the cold air assaulted his bare body. Edosina had as many drafts as it did rooms.
Once he had dried off, and calmed down, he set to dressing himself for the supper feast. This would be the last night before the imperials arrived, and he wanted to make a clear show of his national pride to everyone in attendance before they did. Best for as many people as possible to know who to stand with in the future. It took little thought to decide on his shirt; made from imported silk but colored purple with orange filigree. Cercedeon’s national colors.
He put on a frock coat, and was ready to leave for the dining hall when he felt claws trying to dig into his leg. Pounce had somehow found his way back and away from Vyana, though Raynor still took a quick glance around the room to see if she had snuck in. It would not be the first time. Thankfully he was alone, save for the cat loudly and insistently meowing at him.
“I’ve not forgotten about you or your dinner.” Raynor said, scooping him into his arms. “I’ll take you to the kitchens first like I always do, you self-centered beast.”
Pounce meowed again, and batted a paw at Raynor’s chin.
Double-click this passage to edit it. Raynor chewed his lip for a moment, out of irritation rather than indecision. "No."
"But-"
"I can't."
"Please, I-"
"Sorry, but I have business that needs taking care of." He took Pounce from her, then strode past.
[[Go to private quarters.]] He might have pitied her, but that was still not enough to make him want to spend any more time with her than was necessary.
His sister had been engaged, without her knowledge, to Darion Oushendrallon, the Grand Prince of the Tristomeryan Empire, second child of the late Anastazja and Morvellian. The same people who had brought Cercedeon into subjugation a quarter of a century ago. In exchange, the remaining war debt the kingdom had to pay, of which there was plenty, would be cleared.
Ever since, the announcement had caused a great stir in Cercedeon from top to bottom. This would be the first time a Kadrosar would marry from beyond the kingdom, and to its overlords no less. It was in violation of the law, which stated that they must marry into the domestic nobility, but that was where Raynor would come into play.
//Most eligible bachelor indeed.// The pair of guards took post by his door as Raynor entered his quarters. He tossed his clothes aside and went straight to the bath. He sat on the marble edge as the faucet ran, his mind on the future near at hand.
He and Vyana were twins, but since she had come out of their mother’s womb first, that somehow mader her “older” in a way that Raynor had never been able to see as anything other than total nonsense. Thus, she was the presumptive heir. Or at least she was before this. Everyone was certain that this Darion would take her back to his own realm on the mainland, which meant naturally that Raynor was now the heir. He could see himself now as the King, savored it; every day the wait grew just a little bit harder but he needed to be patient, as one of his mentors said often. But patience was in short supply when it came to this. Everything they had planned would be all the easier if he was already the King, and he was eager to see those plans realized.
Once the tub was full he sank into the hot water, letting the feeling of weightlessness carry him away from his mortal troubles for a while. Just a little while longer, and they would be gone permanently.
[[Stay in the bath and relax.]]
[[Get out.]]