Chapter II
“Heavens, child. Are you still asleep?”
Covering his head with the pillow, Ajax tried to ignore his mother. Why couldn't she let him rest? His chores would still be waiting for him whether he arose now or in half an hour.
The door opened and the pillow was pulled sanctimoniously from his face, followed by a splash of cold water.
Springing to his feet Ajax glowered at his mother.
“What?” he asked, exasperated, drying his face with the sleeve of his shirt.
“‘Tis your fitting day. You've an appointment with the King's tailor in less than an hour,” she reminded him, shaking her head in dismay as she left the room, mumbling something about the King's tailor under her breath.
Fitting day. He couldn't believe it had slipped his mind. He scrubbed his face with what water remained in the pitcher by his bed and threw on his best shirt.
He scrambled to the kitchen and saw his plate was piled high with steaming eggs and sizzling sausages.
“Thank you, Mother.” He kissed her quickly on the cheek before taking a seat and digging into his plate.
“I --nt be--ve --mst --for---,” he said, his mouth full of eggs.
“Come now.” She tossed him a napkin. “I know I taught you better manners than that. Who can even understand that gibberish when you have food falling from your mouth?” she asked disgustedly.
Embarrassed, he looked down, avoiding eye contact, and gulped down the remnants of eggs in his mouth. He picked up his napkin and wiped his face.
“Sorry, Mother,” he apologized. “I was just saying that I can't believe I almost forgot. Thank you for waking me,” he added.
“Save your thanks,” his mother chided as she cleared his plate. “A mother doesn't need thanks, but what she does need is a son who doesn't embarrass her when he's at the palace.” She stared at him seriously.
“Yes ma’am.” He nodded, looking appropriately reprimanded.
The stroll to the palace was pleasant. The weather was cool, although not quite as cold as it had been last night. Sunlight streamed down upon him. There wasn't a cloud in sight, not one remnant of the storm from the night before.
The road was exceptionally clear too. With a downpour as strong as the one the previous evening, there was bound to have been branches strewn across the road at the very least, if not a felled tree or two. However, as he walked, he came upon nothing more than a few leaves. The King's men must have been out before the sun had come up, clearing the roads.
As Ajax paid closer attention, there were a few signs that the storm had caused some havoc. The roads were pristine but to the wayside there were freshly cut piles of wood, some bigger than others. There were also branches stacked along the sides as he strolled toward town.
His thoughts kept returning to his parents’ conversation the previous night. His mother worried that he wasn't prepared. But prepared for what? What might he face?
Ajax was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't notice anyone else on the road until he collided into the back of someone, knocking them both to the ground. His eyes had been focused on the tallest tree in the forest, soon to be the spot where he would spend the majority of his time.
“I beg your pardon. My deepest apologies,” Ajax began. He stood quickly and reached out his hand to help the other traveler up.
A beautiful young woman turned and regarded him. She had thick, full, black curls that fell several inches past her shoulders. Vibrant green eyes stared back at him. They felt oddly familiar. Her lips were full and pink. But they weren't painted pink like some of the young ladies had become accustomed to doing. Hers were natural and her skin was tanned from the sun.
He stood gaping at her, then realizing his mouth was hanging open, he shut it quickly. There was something about her that seemed familiar.
“Here, allow me.” He reached down and pulled her to her feet, lifting her clumsily under the arms.
“Ajax Maxwell. You don't speak to me for two years, and then you have the audacity to knock me to the ground!” She looked at him sternly, her hands on her hips. “What kind of gentleman are you?”
He considered her again, closer this time. “Niv?” he enquired, still uncertain.
She shoved him hard and he stumbled back a few steps, barely maintaining his balance.
“Do I really look that different?” She stepped around him, looking him up and down. “I mean, you look taller...” she walked slowly, examining him, “leaner, stronger,” and then she cracked a grin, “but still clumsy I see.”
“Nivara.” He shook his head, still not quite believing that this was his childhood playmate in his presence. She was no longer a little girl. Looking at her now, it was hard to believe only two years had passed since their last encounter. “You look different too,” he responded lamely, still stunned that his best friend from his youth was standing in front of him.
“How so?” she teased.
“Um, well,” he started to fumble. “You’re bigger,” he commented awkwardly.
“Bigger?” she said hotly, examining herself. “I thought you had been training for the last two years. What exactly have you been studying?” she tsked. “How dare you call a lady...bigger?” she rebuked him with disdain.
“Not bigger. Taller. You've grown up,” he replied as his face changed from different shades of red. “I haven't been studying etiquette.” Even as a boy he had always been in trouble with Niv.
“Well I'd hope not. Because you would have wasted the last two years,” she teased. “Where are you headed?” she asked as she began heading down the road.
Ajax stood frozen for a moment and then hurried to catch up. “To the royal tailor.”
She raised an eyebrow quizzically. “So, is that the big secret? Are you joining the royal guard? Is that why you disappeared suddenly and I haven't seen hide nor hair of you these past years?”
Growing up, Nivara and Ajax had spent ever free hour possible together exploring, doing chores, sneaking out, and looking for shooting stars. But he wasn't allowed to tell her the reason he had disappeared. Only a few knew about the portal keeper. Most people thought Edwin, Ajax's father, was a Royal Advisor, whose counsel was only sought in the direst of situations. That explained why he was never at the council meetings.
Ajax wondered what his cover would be. “Something like that,” he answered vaguely, not wishing to lie, but also not being able to tell her everything. “What about you, how have you been occupying your time?”
She kicked a rock in the road and it skittered off to the side, startling a rabbit, who scampered off into the woodland.
Laughing, Nivara spun back to look at Ajax, her eyes smiling mischievously. “Do you remember that time you attempted to catch a hare with your bare hands?” she chuckled.
“When you dared me? And I ended up covered in mud, and scratched to pieces by thorns?” he asked incredulously. “Yes, I have a faint recollection of that,” he said sarcastically as he rolled up the sleeve of his shirt. Then he pointed to a scar on his forearm. It was faint now; time had dulled it to a few thin white lines. “You had to choose a rabbit that happened to be grazing near a thicket of raspberries.” He shook his head remembering. “Not only did I get cut up to pieces by the thorns, I did not apprehend the hare, and I got scolded at home by my mother. She couldn't fathom how I would ruin my shirt playing in raspberry bushes and not even bring some home for a decent pie.” He laughed at the memory and then shoved her playfully. “You were always getting me into trouble.”
“Hold on now,” she began defensively, “it's not my fault that you went along with every idea that popped into my head.”
“I was a young boy, trying to impress the beautiful damsel in distress.” He smiled easily.
She seemed to stare back briefly, and then pushed him quickly. “I don't remember ever being the damsel-in-distress type,” she responded defiantly.
He shrugged as they approached the palace gate. “Maybe it was wish
ful thinking. All little boys desire nothing more than to grow up to be heroes.”
The gate was open and Sir Thomas, one of the King's knights, was manning the entrance.
“Ajax,” he nodded. “I assume you know the way?” the knight enquired.
“Yes.”
“It's an exciting day,” Sir Thomas added, then extended his hand to him.
Ajax shook it and smiled.
“Good luck to you, lad.”
“Thank you, Sir Thomas,” Ajax replied.
He stepped through the entrance slowly, looking back at Niv.
“Nivara, Pri—” the knight began, but was cut off.
“I know where I'm expected,” Nivara huffed impatiently. “And I should hurry, or I'll be late,” she added as she turned through the gate, headed in the opposite direction of Ajax.
He walked slowly towards the tailor, looking backwards, waiting, but Nivara never turned nor gave him a second glance.
Ajax sighed. It had been wonderful to see her. It had seemed like old times again, almost like no time had passed between them. Ajax had thought Niv had enjoyed seeing him too, but he must have read that wrong. No farewell, not even a look or a wave. He wondered what she was doing here. Niv had headed off in the direction of the palace, not one of the outlying buildings like himself. Maybe she was hoping to be a lady-in-waiting to one of the princesses.
He remembered she had always had extraordinary skill as a seamstress. Her mother had been a lady-in-waiting to one of the King's sisters years ago, until the princess had caught pneumonia and died. Then Niv's mother had worked as a seamstress out of her house and her daughter had been her apprentice.
Ajax turned the last corner to find the tailor, Mr. Foster, standing impatiently in the doorway to his shop. He was a portly man, almost completely bald, with a few wisps of hair around his ears and the back of his head. He had a long tape he used for measuring wrapped loosely around his neck. He stood with arms crossed, tapping his foot frantically on the ground.
He glared down the bridge of his nose through his spectacles at Ajax, and cleared his throat as the boy approached.
“It's about time, lad. I have a busy day, and don't have time to wait about. You should have been here a half hour ago,” he admonished Ajax hotly as he shooed him inside.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Foster. I overslept,” he apologized, even though by his account he was on time; his mother had seen to that.
“Let's just get on with it,” the tailor said, waving Ajax to the center of the room and onto a small stool.
Ajax took a step up and stood still.
The room was different than others Ajax had seen. He had never been to a tailor before. His family had never been able to afford custom-made clothing.
There was a wall full of mirrors, and not merely small hand mirrors like his mother had. These were taller than he was. Ajax could stand in front of one and see his entire reflection.
The remainder of the walls were covered in shelving. Each shelf was stacked with fabrics, each section color-coded. He never knew there were so many types of material in blue. To the right of the mirrors stood a rack full of elegant-looking attire: jackets, dresses, slacks.
Ajax assumed these were orders clients had placed and had yet to pick up.
Mr. Foster unwrapped the tape from his neck and took some quick measurements, calling the numbers out to his assistant, a young boy that looked no older than eleven, seated in a corner of the room.
“Come back the day after tomorrow at noon and your cloak will be finished,” Mr. Foster advised, and then spun abruptly and disappeared into a back room.
Ajax stepped down from the stool hesitantly, and scanned around the room slowly. His eyes stopped on the assistant. “Is that really it?” he confirmed uncertainly.
The boy hopped out of his chair. “Yes sir,” he answered. “Cloaks are easy. There isn't much to them.” He headed towards Ajax and leaned forward, lowering his voice. “What's your cloak for? The material is the finest I've seen and Mr. Foster seems so nervous to get it right.”
Ajax shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he quickly tried to think of an answer that would stifle the child's curiosity.
“Jaspen!” the tailor called impatiently, sticking his head out from the back room. He glanced at Ajax, looking surprised to see him still there. “If you'll excuse us,” he said tersely, “we've got work to do.”
The boy moved quickly, disappearing into the back room in a run.
Mr. Foster huffed, and then followed after Jaspen. Ajax could hear the boy getting a stern reprimand as he stepped out of the shop.
It was exceptionally bright out. Ajax squinted, adjusting to the light. The courtyards surrounding the palace were relatively deserted as Ajax walked back towards the gate. He glanced up at the castle. It was built on a hill with gardens and plazas surrounding it. A few special shops were located inside the gate; the royal tailor, the royal blacksmith, and a few others. The King wished everything he might desire just within his grasp.
The palace shimmered in the sunlight. It was built from a special type of white stone, that when polished seemed to shine all on its own. There were four tall towers, one in every corner. Each was manned by a member of the King's guard at all times so that no threat could approach them unannounced.
Ajax had only been inside the palace on a couple of occasions. It was massive. Several stories high, with countless wings and passages. He wondered if even the King knew them all. He had ambled around the palace walls once, for curiosity's sake. It had taken him almost two hours to finish walking the perimeter, and he had kept up a brisk pace the entire time.
Tomorrow he was to return, and he would be authorized inside the palace. Ajax was to be admitted to the King's private library. There he was to study from the book of the keepers, where he would memorize the oath he would pledge before the King, along with the names of the keepers who had come before him.
He paused to glance one last time at the looming castle before him, and as he moved to head toward the gate, the Prince turned the corner.
“Your Highness,” Ajax said automatically, falling into a low, awkward bow.
“Ajax,” he nodded. “How is the training coming along?”
The Prince had often ventured down from the palace and witnessed as Ajax was pummeled to the ground during his bouts of hand-to-hand combat. At first it had been intimidating to have the Crown Prince observing, but after each loss, the Prince would come offer him words of encouragement and even give him some recommendations to improve his technique.
Having held a sword in his hand since the age of two, Prince Blake was highly skilled. His counsel was insightful and had been beneficial. Ajax had learned more from the Prince in those brief conversations than he learned from days of his instructors prattling on.
“My training is done for the most part, Your Highness. Tomorrow I head for the library.”
The Prince nodded. “That's right. You have a week until you take your oath.”
“Six days, to be precise.”
The Prince reached forward and clasped Ajax on the shoulder. “I am sure you shall do fine. In fact, I may come pay you a visit,” he replied, facing toward the north. “I have yet to see it in person.”
“It would be an honor,” Ajax replied, bowing again.
The Prince waved him off. “I will see you in a few days. After the oath, we shall host an elaborate ball to thank you for your service. There will be feasting and dancing all night.” He laughed lightly. “Who knows, perhaps you shall meet your future wife.” He nodded a short, curt nod. “I will see you soon.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Ajax responded, bowing one last time. Future wife. It seems too early for me to be thinking of such things. The King was anxious for his son to pick a wife. Or so it was rumored. Perhaps that is why the Prince had such things on his mind.
It was custom for the future queen to be picked from within the kingdom. The engagement would be a lengthy one, typ
ically four years. Once the announcement was made, the young maiden would move into the palace and begin years of study: etiquette, diplomacy, history. Everything Prince Blake had been taught since infancy.
Some princes married royalty from other lands, but the kingdom of Rastella had always stood apart on this front. All the kings had married local maidens. For who better to put the needs of the people of Rastella first than one raised here?
After the Prince was out of sight, Ajax made his way back to the gate.
He spent a few minutes with Sir Thomas, questioning him as to which palace entrance he should use to gain access to the library and if there was any protocol he needed to be made aware of.
Then he strolled home slowly. Every few minutes Ajax would look back towards the palace. He kept hoping he might run into Nivara again. They had only spent a short time together this morning, but he couldn't keep his mind from daydreaming.
He hadn’t realized how much he had missed talking with her. Ajax wondered if she would be at the ball. They would pick up like old times, delighting in the frivolity of such an evening. He longed to be carefree, having fun as they did when they were younger, unable to maintain a serious composure for the entire night. Even if it would just be for an evening, Ajax wished to have his best friend back.
Chapter III
The next morning Ajax rose early, without any assistance from his mother. He fed the chickens, milked the cows, and took Storm, their stallion, out to stretch his legs.
The morning was cold and clear. It felt splendid to be galloping through an open field, the wind blowing through his hair. It would be one of the last times he would ride Storm for a while. His new station would give him little time for much freedom. He reveled in his final ride of the year.
When he entered the kitchen, his mother had barely finished flipping her last blueberry pancake.
“Someone was up early,” his mother noted as she placed his plate on the table and drenched it in maple syrup.
The Portal Keeper (The Keeper Chronicles Book 1) Page 2
