Noble Beginnings

by D. W. Jackson

  There was a long moment of silence, during which Dorran tried not to stare expectantly at his mother after his sisters had walked off to one side and begun to talk quietly among themselves.

  "Dorran," Thea said eventually.

  He bowed his head by reflex. "Yes, Mother?"

  "How much did you understand of the talks today?" she asked.

  His mind raced as he contemplated what sort of answer she wanted. "I understood the general issues discussed," he offered.

  "Well enough to be able to form any of your own opinions?"

  He considered her question. He could lie but he knew that if he did that she might just expect him to give one and then now only would he be shown as incompetent but as an incompetent liar.. "Not really, Mother."

  There was a long silence, during which he braved a look up at her. Her expression was stern and just shy of disapproving. "It is always wiser to admit uncertainty than to form opinions prematurely," she said finally. "Still, I must point out that your education on matters outside of war has been sorely lacking. From now on, you are to spend the majority of your time in the castle. Attend as many of my councils as you are able, any free time you have will be spent studying until you feel more comfortable with affairs of state."

  Dorran's mouth nearly dropped open with alarm, but he controlled his reaction. "I understand, Mother."

  She gave him a small smile. "Do you have any questions?" she asked.

  "Yes about my project at the barracks," he rushed out. "Obviously my education is more important, but they aren't being used anyway, and if I set Edith in charge of what I've been doing and have her report to me on her progress..."

  Out of sight of their mother, Adhara and Nora were both giving Dorran disapproving looks. It was vaguely humiliating, but Thea spoke again before he could try to defend his interest.

  "I see no reason for Edith not to continue with your project, so long as her reports don't take up too much of your time," she allowed. "You value your skills in combat very much, do you not?"

  He nodded, his mouth dry. I'm going to go off to battle at some point, aren't I? He wanted to say, but he knew that it was a bad topic to bring to his mother’s attention.. "I was under the impression that knowledge of combat would help me to be of use to Farlan," he answered carefully.

  She nodded. "Your dedication to our land is admirable, Dorran, but you are more than a common foot soldier, or even a general you are a member of the house of Farlane, and your knowledge must expand beyond the military. Do you understand?"

  He bowed his head again. "Yes, Mother."

  She leaned back in her chair. "Good. Now, I can see that you've had just about as much politics as you can be reasonably expected to handle for today. Go and move your things into your old chambers. Enlist some of the servants to help you, if you can find any that are free."

  Not likely, Dorran thought and he didn't enjoy bothering the servants anyway; they always seemed to know what they were doing better than he did. "I'll look after it myself, Mother," he said, bowing on one knee again before standing and walking out of the chamber. He thought he heard hints of feminine whispers follow him on the way out.

  Chapter II

  Dorran had only a few personal effects in the old barracks, but there were still enough that he couldn't carry all of it in one trip. Even given this, he'd hoped he'd be able to make the move unnoticed, but Edith caught him on his second trip with his battered leather-bound chest precariously balanced on one hip.

  She frowned. "What are you doing?"

  He looked away. "I'm moving back into the castle," he said. "Not that I ever really left, but..."

  "Why?" she asked.

  "Mother's orders," he said. The short words echoed in the dim passageway, sounding tenser than he had intended for them to.

  Edith was still staring at him, her greenish-brown eyes clouded with distant confusion. "Why?" she repeated.

  It was exactly the sort of response he should have expected from her, he knew, but he still spent a moment at a loss for an answer. "She said she wanted me to stay in the castle," he said finally. He knew it wasn't the sort of answer she wanted, but it was all he could provide. "She wants me to become more involved with the duchy's affairs."

  Edith stared at him for another moment, and then nodded. She smiled faintly, but he got the feeling that it was more by reflex than an accurate expression of her feelings. "Do you want me to take over the training, then?"

  "Could you? I mean, I can't, and you already do most of the training anyway." He swallowed, facing for the first time the idea of stepping out of the daily practices at the barracks head-on. "I don't think I'll be able to come down as much anymore."

  "I should be able to do it," she said with straightforward confidence. "I'll just keep asking the older members for help like we've already been doing. I expect Marcus and the others will be disappointed, though." Without asking if he needed help, Edith took the dangling strap of his chest and commandeered half of his weight, walking in front of him down the hallway.

  He wondered whether she was disappointed, too, but knew it was pointless to ask Edith things like that. She would always look at him strangely when he did, and had never given him a satisfactory answer.

  They rounded several corners in silence, and were in one of the covered walkways between the barracks and the main castle when Edith raised her voice again, tossing him a calculating glance over her shoulder. "What are you going to be doing up at the castle?"

  "I don't know," he admitted.

  "Your mother didn't tell you?"

  He shrugged, the weight of the chest making the movement awkward. "I got the feeling it would've taken too long to explain.” Dorran stopped and looked up at the sky and let out a heavy sigh. “I'm not exactly cut out for court life."

  "That's because you've never prepared for it," she pointed out.

  "That's true," he admitted. "Somehow I always figured I'd grow up and go straight to the battlefield. Mother never told me she wanted me more involved in political affairs, anyway."

  "You are her firstborn heir," she pointed out dryly.

  He shrugged. "Mother will tell me what I need to know when I need to know it," he said.

  She turned around so that she was walking backwards, supporting her corner of her trunk with one arm. In her years of training she had developed upper body strength to match his, Dorran always enjoyed watching Edith, there was something about her that made his heart beat fast. Momentarily distracted by the smooth curves of her bicep showing through the fabric of her tunic sleeves. "You always say something like that whenever anyone asks," she mused. "Is there a reason for that?"

  He was surprised she had noticed; it wasn't something he spent much time thinking about himself. "Well..." He turned his head, making a show of watching the walls and the shuttered windows pass by. "It was one of the last things my father told me before he left. I don't remember it very well, but...a few years later, I asked Grandfather about it, and he told me the same thing, so I guess I remembered it right."

  She gave him a long look, and he suspected that the mention of the man had made her wary. "You're the sole male heir of the line, aren't you?" she said seriously.

  "I am," he said uncomfortably. He remembered the ladies of his mother's court all eyeing him carefully from head to toe, and made a face. "That's been true ever since my father died, though; Grandfather's passing doesn't change anything."

  She shrugged. "I suppose not."

  They arrived in the outer halls of the castle, and passed the rest of the trip up to Dorran's chambers in silence. Word had spread, and the halls of the castle were even more still and somber than usual; aside from a few old servants putting up slightly moth eaten dark wall hangings, they saw no one as they traveled up a series of wide staircases.

  Dorran's room was only slightly less ostentatious than he remembered the same two delicate vases that he'd never used framed the mantelpiece, but a few of the old wall hangings had been removed over th
e years or so he'd been told.

  "So, home again..." Edith said, watching him closely. "Did you miss living here?"

  He shook his head. "Would you like living in this place?"

  Before she could answer, they were interrupted by two servants. An older lady Dorran didn't know and a pretty, dark-haired woman a year or two his senior whose name, he remembered was Myriel came into the room. They curtsied quietly, and then began hanging up some dusty hangings on the walls.

  Dorran had the impulse to ask them not to bother, but Edith continued their conversation before he could open his mouth. "I'm not the first in line to inherent the duchy." she pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

  Dorran looked at her and let out a small sad laugh. "No, I didn't miss it," he said. "I brought everything I needed down with me, after all. And what am I supposed to do with the rest of this?” Dorran said turning in circles holding his hand out to everything that surrounded them.

  She shrugged. "Appearances are important, right? To show the pride and prosperity of Farlan."

  Dorran thought he saw Myriel throw her a sidelong glance, but kept his attention on answering Edith's question. "I think Mother believes it's more important to show solidarity with the people. We should never forget the hardships that Farlan is going through, after all."

  "I guess that's true...but you don't seem like the kind of person to forget about that."

  "....Thanks," he said, surprised at the straightforward compliment.

  "Anyway." She walked over to the door, then looked over her shoulder to survey him. "I'll let the others know, but you should probably go talk to them when you can find the time."

  He nodded. "I know. It'll be strange, figuring out what to tell them."

  "Not really," she said. "Just tell them the truth that you're doing the best you can. Any soldier should be able to understand that."

  She left before he could try to formulate an answer, nodding to the servants on her way out.

  Dorran stood awkwardly for a long moment after she left, listening to her quiet footfalls fading in the distance. Then he turned to the servants in the room, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

  "Thanks for this," he said uncertainly.

  They curtsied. "Please think nothing of it, my lord," the younger servant said smoothly. "Is there anything else we can do for you?"

  "Um, actually...Myriel, isn't it? And I'm sorry, but I don't know your name," he added, addressing the second woman.

  She curtsied. "Calla, my lord."

  "Very well. Myriel, Calla...thank you again, but please feel free to leave the rest of the old hangings stored away. I'm not going to need them."

  Calla looked uncertain. "Are you sure, my lord?"

  "Yes. I'll be able to move the rest of my personal effects as well, so please don't go to any further trouble on my account."

  "If you say so, my lord," she replied giving Dorran a quick bow that was mirrored by Myriel then the two quickly left the room.

  "Thank you," he called belatedly as they passed over the threshold. Myriel smiled at him over her shoulder as they left.

  Dorran still had a few personal effects to bring back from his room in the barracks, but he needed a moment to think. He let himself fall back onto his mattress larger much softer than he was used to, to the point of discomfort. Trying to get comfortable he stared blindly up at the canopy above him. It was threadbare, and he was glad that no one had gone to the unnecessary trouble of repairing it.

  Looking at that canopy for the first time in years, an uncomfortable memory stirred in the back of Dorran's mind. After his father's death, a few of the old hangings on the wall had given him nightmares. He had them for several months, and had quickly come to hate the hangings, the nights, and the room itself. The nightmares were full of frightening, nonsensical images his father being torn apart by long-reaching gray hands, or stabbed full of skewers and then left in the sun to bloat and rot, or trampled to pieces by a horse and cart .

  None of them were reasonable, even he, young as he was, knew that and, knowing this, he didn't feel it would be appropriate to share them. Instead, he took to spending hours in his mother's personal library looking for books about the specifics of combat, and finally ended up in the barracks, listening to the soldiers and eventually asking to be lent a practice sword of his own.

  He'd befriended Edith there. They were both quiet and strongly motivated to learn about combat. She'd lost her older brother, her sole guardian, in the same battle where Dorran's father had been slain. They had never talked about it beyond factual details, and that very silence was part of the reason Dorran had always trusted Edith as much as he did now. She had proven a loyal friend through the years, and he trusted her with his safety and those of the other trainees, just as he one day hoped to be able to rely on her in battle. It was unusual for women to be soldiers, but due to the low number of available soldiers it was slowly becoming more common, and he might be able to make an exception where Edith was concerned if he argued hard enough.

  And now, with Grandfather, too...I certainly know that I would want someone like her at my side in a fight. He sighed at the apprehension in the thought and turned over. For years he'd let preparation for battle become his sole focus, and it had allowed him to forget about the responsibilities he carried as the sole male heir of the duchy. Lying once again in his room in the castle, he felt much more nervous than he had the first time he'd trained freestyle with another student, and knew with the soldier's sense he'd honed with fierce determination that it was because he knew he was unprepared. Still, he was a Farlane, and sworn to serve the duchy beyond the duties of any soldier. He wouldn't let his poor preparation stop him from serving his family to the best of his ability.

  He sighed. Edith had been right, after all. He would have to explain it to the others properly. Dorran rested his elbows on his knees, laid his chin in his hands, and stared at the stone wall as he contemplated what words he would use to explain why he had to leave the place where he had always felt most at home.

  Chapter III

  In Farlan, full mourning traditionally lasted for one month. This meant dark clothing and somber decorations for every room where any significant amount of time was spent in social affairs. It also meant that the air of the castle was respectfully hushed, allowing the memory of loss to permeate the hallways. It was a token of respect that many viewed with bitterness, especially those that had felt personal loss in the past. By the time that the mourning period ended, all of the castle's occupants were quietly relieved and ready to move on to the less subdued air that was more common around the palace at least between the King's messengers that arrived from the war front. In this case, the springtime weather made the return to normal dress and decorum a particular relief for the castle's inhabitants.

  For Dorran, though, the castle became even more unbearable once the mourning period was over. The hallways, while still quiet, now echoed with far-off conversations, many of them sharp or seeming to loom up on him without warning. The streets didn't echo like this, but Dorran wasn't able to leave the castle as often as he had previously. The barracks also echoed, but there far-off words were covered by the sound of blows; or, more frequently, only silence or the most distant of whispers would reach the ears of another.

  Whereas before he had spent his time silently pacing the castle, attending meetings when summoned, or sitting in his room re-reading the books he'd been given to study in his childhood, now there seemed to be people everywhere. And every time one of them turned their eyes on him, he would have the feeling that they were looking right through him, as if they were judging him, that they knew he had no idea what he was supposed to be doing.

  Is this what it's like for Addie and Nora all the time? He would find himself wondering, and didn't know whether to envy them or pity them if that was the case. His sisters were so sure of themselves or at least they appeared that way to him.

  More irritating even than the feeling of aimlessness, though, was the fear of hi
s body slowly slipping out of shape due to lack of exercise. He'd carefully stayed away from the barracks at first, to prove to his mother that he was doing his best to follow her instructions; after the first few weeks, though, when no further instructions were sent his way, he finally decided that going down to the barracks three afternoons a week to train would probably help him focus, now that he'd more or less adjusted to castle life.

  So he picked an afternoon, checking carefully with Nora ahead of time, and walked down to the barracks to see how training was progressing, with his own dulled practice blade slung over his shoulder.

  Walking down the hallways of the barracks felt strange. They seemed quieter than he remembered, but also more familiar, it was like visiting an old friend after a long absence. Dorran found himself wishing fervently that he'd never left, that he could just quietly return here and pretend his mother had never asked for his increased involvement in castle affairs. He shook his head and tried to put the childlike notion behind him. Figuring that there was no point in fretting over things he couldn't change. Instead, he was resolved to enjoy the next few hours and try to not let the awkwardness of the situation get to him.

  When he entered, though, he immediately sensed that the atmosphere in the training hall was different. There were a few small knots of people training in the corners of the large room, but the tone was more subdued than he remembered. A few heads turned in Dorran's direction, and their owners waved cheerfully at him, but something still felt off to him as he waved in reply.

  It took only a second scan of the room for him to realize what, or rather who, was missing: Edith was nowhere to be found. Dorran shrugged to himself and went to train with a group of the younger boys, preparing himself to be unpleasantly surprised by how out of shape he had become in the past weeks.

  It was only after he'd thoroughly beaten Marcus for the third time and realized that Edith still hadn't shown up that he bothered asking why she wasn’t present.