Draconis' Bane (13 page)

“No rest for the
weary?” Kevin chuckled.

“After court you can
get some rest,” She reassured him.

“I might even join
you…” She cooed, much to Tristan’s embarrassment. “After you bathe
of course…” She made a show of turning up her nose, still
smiling.

They shared a laugh
as those near enough to hear their by-play, smiled. Unsure of where
to stand Tristan was directed by a servant to stand next to his
brothers’ chair as Kevin sat down. The Master of Ceremonies beat
his metal clad staff into the floor three times as the buzzing of
conversation abruptly stopped in the hall.

“His Highness Prince
Kevin Vallious, Duke of Kenting, General of the Armies of Vallious
and heir apparent to the throne, and his Princess, the lady Alison
of Sutten!” The man introduced.

Polite applause
echoed around the hall as Kevin looked briefly annoyed with the
honorific titles while his wife smiled warmly, the picture of two
sides of the same coin.

“His Highness will
now receive you.” He concluded, bowing lowly.

While in Metao, Kevin
and he had blissfully avoided court, and now he could see why Kevin
was so keen to avoid it. Every merchant in the hall had some sort
of minor problem that could easily have been solved if they had
simply acted like adults and asked their neighbor to stop doing
what irritated them.

“..and if you please
My Lord, he allowed his daughter to serve the produce moments after
milking the cow!”

Tristan smiled to
himself, he could sense his brothers rising irritation with these
trite concerns. On the heels of their long journey with no chance
to bathe before being ushered into court, even Tristan’s patience
was wearing thin. Clearly Kevin relied heavily on Alison to be the
voice of warm reason as she spoke up.

“Master Merchant,
would it not be better to simply inform him that his unhygienic
ways were bothering you?” She asked warmly.

Perhaps five
merchants later and the trite business had been completed. Kevin
readjusted in his seat as three high ranking soldiers stepped
forward to address him.

“My Lord, I’m sure by
now you’re aware,” The eldest soldier began, “That our lands are
being overrun with bandits and brigands.”

“We were content, to
stem the flow until your return.” The next one added.

“But now, My Lord,
things have gotten out of control. If we don’t do something soon…”
The last soldier let the sentence drop.

Kevin cleared his
throat.

“I observed your
concerns first hand, Captains.” He paused to organize his thoughts
for a moment before continuing.

“It regrets me to say
that Patrician Samuel has committed treason, most likely the
side-effect of which is the increased number of hostile forces in
our country. I’ve sent word to my father to intercede on the east’s
behalf, but it is up to us to clear out the bandits in the
west.”

He paused as
murmuring erupted around the hall, the color in Alison’s face
draining as she assumed her husband would take personal command and
be away from her again. Guilt rose up in Tristan as he saw tears
gather in her eyes, how could he have been so selfish?

Kevin allowed the
noise level to rise before motioning for the Master of Ceremonies
to bring them back to order with a bang of his staff.

“That being said, I’m
putting the 7
^th
Infantry into the field…”

A great noise of
approval began to echo through the hall as the centermost military
Captain’s chest swelled with pride.

“…under the command
of Prince Tristan.”

The absolute silence
was deafening.

Tristan loathed being
the center of attention for this very reason; he could feel the
murderous glare of the Captains assembled before the throne. He
could feel the eyes of everyone in the hall on him, his pride
wouldn’t let him shrink into the shadows, but he was sorely tested
to do so.

“Excuse me My Lord,
did I hear you correctly?” Kevin’s eyes narrowed slightly as the
centermost Captain spoke up.

“Yes Captain
Robertson, I believe you did.” He replied evenly.

“General, all due
respect, he’s a boy!” Robertson complained.

Kevin motioned to the
Master of Ceremonies who pounded his staff three times on the floor
again and announced that court was over for the day. The older
Prince motioned for his senior staff to come closer to the throne
as the merchants and servants made their way out of the
chamber.

“I want you all
assembled for a council over evening meal tonight. Understood?” He
asked.

The group of them
mumbled agreement and stalked off, but not before giving Tristan
sideways dark looks as Kevin rose to his feet.

“Now little brother,
time to get cleaned up and some rest! Simon there will escort you
the room you’ll be using while you’re here.” He came closer and
whispered. “Far enough away from my room to grant you privacy mind
you.”

Kevin chuckled and
allowed his wife to escort him to their rooms, while the servant
named Simon waited at Tristan’s elbow for him to follow. The young
Prince nodded once to the tall slim servant who directed him to the
hallway just behind the throne.

A few hours later,
Tristan dozed on a comfortable feather stuffed mattress. The
servant had attempted to undress him, much to his distress. He had
ordered him from the room and pulled off his leather breastplate on
his own. His tunic underneath was stained with sweat from three
days on the road. He unbuckled the sides of his boots, pulling them
off to reveal an ungodly stench. Next he untied his greaves and
laid them on dresser at the foot of his bed. Standing in nothing
except his trousers, a knock came at his door.

“Enter.” He
called.

A young female
servant walked into the room, completely un-phased by his state of
dress to inquire whether he needed help bathing.

“No thank you, is
there something clean that I can change into for supper tonight
thought?” He asked, motioning to the pile of filthy clothes
gathered at the foot of his bed.

She walked over to
the wardrobe against the far wall and pulled out a simple red shirt
with a square hole for his head and short sleeves, a pair of black
leather trousers and matching simple leather bracers. She placed
them all on the bed and turned to him.

“Would you like me to
clean your clothes and armor My Lord?” She asked in barely a
whisper.

He agreed and walked
through the opening next to the wardrobe into a smaller room as she
gathered up his things and left the room. His bathroom had a large
wooden counter running along to opposite wall with an empty metal
basin and a pitcher next to it. Coming out of the counter were two
water pumps, both of their ends hanging over the large wooden tub
that dominated the room. The tub was already filled with hot water;
steam came off in waves fogging up a nearby window.

Tristan enjoyed a
long leisurely soak in the tub, using liberal amounts of soap to
remove almost a week’s worth of dust and grime. He got out of the
tub, dried himself off as best he could and headed over to the
wardrobe to see what he could find for boots as the girl had left
with his riding pair. At the base of the wardrobe he found a pair
of comfortable looking sandals, a sturdy pair of ankle high boots
and his favorite calf high style all in black leather. He pulled
out the calf high boots, a pair of under breeches and brought them
over to the bed where he proceeded to get dressed. He placed his
belt, with both his sword and dagger, on a brass metal hook next to
the fireplace. After tying his hair out of his face, he lay down on
the bed, dozing in the afternoon warmth.

~

In his dreams Tristan
was haunted by flashes of light and the clang of metal on metal
followed by a blinding flash and then complete darkness, he tried
to force his eyes open only to see the strangest black painted
toenails in red, cross gartered sandals.

~

“My Lord?” A soft
female voice inquired to no answer. “Sir?!” She demanded more
urgently, shaking his shoulder.

Tristans’ eyes shot
open to the pretty face of the young female servant.

“It’s time for supper
my Lord.” She said timidly.

He sat up in bed,
rubbing his eyes and yawning widely. Standing up he stretched his
arms over his head and yawned again. He motioned for the girl to
guide him to the dining hall as he retrieved his belt from the hook
on the wall. As he put the belt around his waist and buckled it he
noticed that all the torches along the wall were lit. The stone the
keep had been built must have had some minerals in it. The odd
glitter every few inches was shown to good effect as the walls
seemed alive in places.

The serving girl
guided him back towards the main audience chamber. Though, as they
approached the main hall she turned down a hallway that ran
horizontally along the back wall of the main chamber, which he
hadn’t noticed before. She stopped at a door midway down the hall
and opened it, bowing him through as she did so. Tristan entered a
large dining room that made him feel very comfortable. A long
wooden table dominated the space running the width of the room. A
merry little fire crackled in the fireplace along the western wall.
Chairs were arrayed around the table, made from a richly stained
mahogany and padded red material nailed to the seats and backs of
them with ornate nail heads exposed. The table was similarly
stained and looked well used, yet cared for. As always, everything
had a highly functional purpose with little thought invested in
opulence.

All along the walls
were various tabards and war banners which looked hundreds of years
old. Above the fireplace he recognized his own family crest on a
banner of deep blue. Behind the head chair was a trophy case full
of ancient weapons. Tristan crossed the room, slowly drinking in
the warm, relaxing atmosphere. He hooked his thumbs in his belt and
began reading the little plaques beneath each weapon.

Members of the
council began to filter into the room as Tristan continued to look
at the weapons with interest. He made out a few sideways malevolent
glances in the reflection of the glass covering the trophy case. He
was long used to treatment such as this and he was far more
interested in a wicked looking bow which appeared as though a small
army would be needed to draw it.

The door opened and a
familiar voice cleared his throat as the talking in the room
stopped. Tristan turned around to see his smiling brother motion
towards the seat to the right of the head chair. Yet more murmuring
broke out and several surprised looks followed Tristan as he walked
over and sat down opposite his sister-in-law. She smiled warmly at
him, clearly feeling sorry for him. He assumed husband and wife had
caught up while he was napping and smiled back at her. He motioned
to the wine pitcher, offering to fill her glass, which she accepted
as Kevin’s voice cut through the talk in the room.

“Gentlemen! Please
sit.” Kevin commanded. “Timon, if you would please have the food
brought in?”

The head servant
nodded once to Kevin and left the room for the kitchen. Everyone at
the table helped themselves to a glass of wine as Kevin leaned over
to his wife and whispered something to her that she nodded to.
Straightening up, he addressed his council.

“We have something of
a problem here my friends.” He noted. “A few of you have taken
exception to my brother leading our force along the Western Road to
take care of a few bandits.”

Kevin allowed a long
pause while his leaders looked uncomfortably at one another.

“Why?” He asked
finally, locking eyes with Captain Robertson.

Many of them shifted
in their chairs as Tristan looked around the room. Most of the
Captains avoided eye contact with him. Their Lieutenants seemed
much less put off by the young. Robertson was the first to break
the silence.

“We don’t doubt his
ability my Lord.” He began. “We simply question
his…experience.”

Tristan was irritated
by his observation. Who was he to know what Tristan’s experience
was? How in the hell was he qualified to pass judgment on him
without even seeing what he could do? As always, his temper was
always so close to the surface and it manifested itself again.

“What you’re saying
is that I’m too young to swing a sword.” Tristan blurted.

Robertson’s eyes
narrowed as he turned and address the young Prince. Tristan refused
to break eye contact, he was livid and he wasn’t about to hide the
fact.

“Swing? No. Control?”
He grinned. “Absolutely.” He replied.

Tristan rose; his
hand going to his hip as the Captain’s eyes widened, a calculating
look passing over his features. Kevin put his hand on Tristans’
shoulder, forcing his younger brother to sit once again, shaking
his head at him.

“Enough.” Kevin
urged, turning to his senior-most Captain he said; “He will lead
you and you will follow, that’s not a question. Do I make myself
clear?”

“Quite, my Lord.”
Came his reply through clenched teeth.

They were spared
anymore conversation by the arrival of the servants with numerous
platters of food. Tristan found his appetite was gone; however he
grabbed a few things to nibble on as he sipped his wine. Using his
spare time to good advantage, Tristan observed the members of
Kevin’s council. Robertson sat next to the Princess, followed by a
young Lieutenant he took to be Robertson’s second in command.
Farther along the table he noticed that the vast majority of the
Captains here had rather young Lieutenants. While the Captains all
shared a look of distain towards the young Prince most of their
Lieutenants seemed to like him as more often than not he received
nods or smiles as he looked around the table.