Noble Beginnings

by D. W. Jackson

  Marcus shrugged. "I'm not sure, my lord. She's been gone for a couple of days now. I think Mister Vernis might know more, but I haven't heard anyone say much of anything."

  Dorran frowned. "That's strange," he admitted. "I guess I'll ask her about it when she comes back. In the meantime, though, why don't you do a round or two with Iain? I'll watch."

  Marcus nodded, easily distracted, and Iain stepped up. Dorran saw the boy's Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed and got into a battle-ready stance. Iain was around Marcus's age, but hadn't been training for as long, so Dorran supposed he had reason to be nervous. "Now, Iain, I want you to focus in maintaining your defense. You have the habit of hoping to get in lucky hits, especially when you spar with Marcus. That’s something that can get you killed in a real battle so we need to work on overcoming that.

  Eventually, the boys had progressed to the point that Dorran felt comfortable breaking free and wandering over to some of the older trainees. He found Vernis, Tam, and a few of the other veterans were lounging against the far wall, watching the younger fighters. "Vernis," he said, and the older man grunted a greeting, his eyes staying fixed on a pair of woman fighters. When their sparring match ended, he looked over at Dorran. "Hey there, my lord. It’s been awhile since you graced us with your presence."

  "I haven't been able to come by in a while," Dorran admitted. "You know how it is. So where's Edith?"

  "Ah, I don't quite know, exactly. The young lady told Tam here that she'd be leaving for a bit, but she didn't give a reason. This is the second time this week, too..." He frowned. "I've no idea what she's up to, but I'm sure she wouldn't leave if it wasn't important. I've seen her fighting' just as lively as ever when she is here...but I'm afraid that's all I know."

  "Thanks," Dorran said the disappointment evident in his voice. "Hey, want to find me a sparring partner?"

  "Don't see why not. Hey, Kell! Get over here."

  Dorran swung his practice sword off his shoulder, holding it ready at his hip. He was worried about Edith but knew there was nothing he could do for her at the present time. He hoped a good heated fight would easy his mind and relax the tension that had been building over the past few weeks. Letting the tip of his blade drop a little Dorran took a deep breath and prepared himself to fight against someone his own size.

  He hadn't been sure, when he'd arrived, how long he intended to stay. He had learned early that as the Heir apparent that there was little reason to plan on any of his free activities. Whenever he did something or someone always came along forcing him to change it so he had learned to take things as they came.

  As the afternoon light began to wane, Dorran made his farewells and left the training hall, sweaty and feeling much more comfortable in his own skin now that the familiar aches were settling in his limbs. He considered going straight back to his rooms maybe with a detour to the servants' baths beneath the castle but his curiosity got the better of him, and he turned in the opposite direction, towards Edith's room.

  He found her door after few minutes' walk from the training hall. There was no sign on the door, which was loosely shut as always, hanging slightly ajar in the frame due to loose, old hinges. Dorran knocked and waited for a long moment. When there was no response, he knocked once more and then took a deep ragged breath as he slowly pushed the door open, letting it scrape awkwardly on the uneven stones of the floor.

  Edith's room had always been particularly sparse. It looked to him like more of a personal storage space than one a person would live in: she only kept it because it was open and Dorran had offered it, although she told Dorran she had come to enjoy the extra space. She had another home, away from the uncles she had grown up with. It wasn’t much just a tiny rented space in one of the larger inns just outside the castle walls, where she usually ate and slept.

  She also spent a great deal of her time here as well, using it almost like a secret base for her training, and usually it showed. Now, however, most of her personal effects were gone. The usual piles of worn and broken clothing and weapons that she enjoyed mending were gone. Only the oldest pieces of her training gear, neatly stacked in the corner, was in the room.

  Dorran examined the room for a long moment. Closing his eyes the memories of when he'd offered Edith this room flooded his mind. She had been living in a tiny space with a couple of her uncles, who had agreed to help find veterans to instruct the two of them in fighting. He almost missed it now the sad, indulgent look he only vaguely remembered from his mother as she offered to pay a small wage in addition to the veterans' pension to Vernis, Tam, and a few of the others willing to educate Dorran and other students interested in swordplay. Dorran wasn't sure if the men were still paid or not, only that a few more of them moved into the barracks with his casual permission, since his mother had given them over to him to use as he saw fit.

  He sighed, and then turned and walked back down the hallway, trying to convince himself that Edith's absence was nothing to worry over. She was more than capable of making her own decisions, and since she usually kept her word to the letter, her reason for leaving had to be a good one. Moreover, in the long run, it wasn't as though the training sessions would stop. There were plenty of veterans to keep the younger fighters instructed, and both groups were more than sufficiently motivated to continue without outside supervision. But it was still unlike her, and Dorran couldn't help but wonder what was going on.

  CHAPTER IV

  The whole night was filled with worries. His mind concocted everything imaginable happening to Edith both good and bad. As soon as he was able to he found himself making his way back to the barracks the next day, and the day after that, but both days Edith was absent.

  On the third day, however, she was back and training with the others. He examined her from across the hall, but she looked the same as ever, with no sign that she had ever been gone.

  Dorran shook his head and sidled in, his training sword slung casually over his shoulder. When one of the groups of younger males spotted him, he waved and walked over, calling, "Room for one more?"

  He thought he saw Edith glance at him out of the corner of his eye, but didn't want to catch her eye to check. Instead, he focused on not getting beaten by Marcus and his friends due to his lack of practice. It was easier than it had been either of the two previous days, but they got in more hits than usual because Dorran kept taking split seconds to glance over at Edith, making sure she was still there.

  He spotted her leaving a bit earlier than usual, and quickly excused himself as well, waving to Marcus, Iain, Vernis, and Tam as he caught the door Edith was pulling closed.

  "Hey, Edith," he called quietly. "Can I walk you to your room?"

  She looked him over and shrugged. "Why not." She replied as she started walking. Before he was all the way past the doorframe she looked over her shoulder. "I see you're back."

  "Took me a while to get to say the same," he said jokingly. "Where were you?"

  Edith ignored the question, looking resolutely down the hallway. "Did you get permission from the Duchess to come back down here?"

  "Not exactly, but I've been keeping an eye on her schedule, and I did check in with Nora...so" Dorran said doggedly.

  "Well, that's good, I think. I'd hate to think that my activities were keeping you distracted from your duties." She was straight-faced as ever, and he decided he needed to be more direct.

  "More like your lack of activities. Seriously, where were you the past few days?"

  "On business."

  "Business?"

  "Yes, I was sent to negotiate prices for imports later in the year. With smaller harvests from last fall, it's going to be hard for taverns to stay supplied through till the next one."

  "You've never been sent on errands before," Dorran pointed out. "And I thought you were supposed to keep me informed."

  They had arrived at Edith's door, but instead of going in she finally turned to look at him, raising her eyebrow and giving him an annoyed expression. "Am I supposed to a
sk you permission to go on errands now?"

  He fought the strong urge to physically step backwards, lifting his hands in defense as he backpedaled. "Come now, you know I didn't mean it like that. I'm just used to knowing what you're up to. And I did entrust you with the training."

  She sighed. "That is true, but the old soldiers have it firmly in hand. They don't need either you or me around to keep the younger ones and themselves in fighting shape. And…. things have been...busy lately."

  "Busy, how?" Dorran asked, curious, but Edith turned away leaving the question unanswered.

  "Speaking of which, I really need to get home. And don't you…"

  She was interrupted by a figure striding purposefully up the hallway. "I thought I might find you here, my lord," Myriel said quietly as she came into their earshot. "Your mother's got a council at the moment, and she has requested your presence. You'd best come along with me if you don't want to miss it entirely. I warn you your mother will be most displeased if that should occur."

  The look Edith gave him was disapproving. "You'd best get going, my lord. Good evening." She said harshly and stepped into her room, shutting the door loudly without giving him a backward glance.

  Dorran felt like pulling out his hair and yelling in frustration for everyone to hear, but he knew that Myriel was the last person to be annoyed with. It was not as if it was her fault, he was the one who had put her out, after all. "Lead the way," he said, resigned to his fate. Myriel obeyed as tactful and efficient as always quietly leading him the way back to the castle grounds.

  By the time he'd arrived at his mother's council, he was late and his clothes were marred with dirt and in an untidy state. He was perfectly aware that the ladies were dissecting him with their eyes. It was his mother’s eyes he was worried about, though unruffled, they held a hint of disapproval. He gritted his teeth as subtly as he was able and tried to pay attention through the haze of frustration and confusion that Edith, usually so reliable, had left in her wake.

  His day was not going as planned and to make matters worse, his mother had to ask his opinion on an issue of agriculture he'd only half been paying attention to. He stumbled his way through an answer as best he could, trying to deflect the question to a more qualified party as a survival tactic, but the ladies saw right through his attempt, and a few took the opportunity to make a titter at him, while the few men in the room looked amused, if vaguely sympathetic. This brought up more brief whispers of his future marriage, and he thought he caught a few doubtfully muttered questions" Is he really going to succeed her Grace?" "Surely she isn't intending..."Before Thea brought the council's attention back to the issues at hand.

  The entire rest of the council went much the same way, with Dorran alternating between feelings of being acutely embarrassed and utterly disinterested. The combination along with Edith's disapproval had him inwardly seething by the end of the gathering. By time the end was in sight he was in a fouler mood than he could remember being in years.

  So it took most of his remaining fortitude not to groan aloud when Thea intentionally dismissed the rest of the council before turning to his sisters, giving him no leave to depart whatsoever. She called each of them over and talked to them quietly for a short while, and they left separately, so that by the time Nora had closed the door behind her, Dorran was the only person in the room with his mother.

  "Dorran, I take it you were down at the barracks again?" The question wasn't accusing, just seeking clarification, but he still felt the prickling beginnings of shame building in the pit of his stomach.

  "Yes, Mother," he answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

  "And Nora told me that Myriel said you've been going there for the past few days." The little spy, Dorran thought in an uncommon moment of anger, but then sighed internally as Thea continued. "You know that I have asked that you spend more time in the castle learning more about your future duties. May I ask why you have shifted your attention back to the barracks without my approval?"

  "The adjustment wasn't meant to be permanent," he said stiffly. "I was trying to determine why my friend Edith wasn't running the practices anymore."

  Thea gave him an inscrutable look. "And did you?"

  "No, but she appears to have the matter firmly in hand." Dorran took a deep breath. "I apologize for my actions, Mother. I did not intend to go against your wishes."

  "I accept your apology," she said formally. Then, after a pause, she added, "Though I don't know that you have too much to apologize for. Dorran, it may be that your exercises in the barracks may prove invaluable before long. I would be willing to allow you to continue them….as long as your understanding of the affairs of court continues to improve. Do I make myself clear?"

  Dorran looked at his feet. "Yes, Mother," he said carefully and clearly. The order wasn't helpful; he still had no clear idea of what he was supposed to be doing or how he was supposed to do it, but to ask for clarification now would probably be read as impertinence. He bit his lip as he knelt again, taking his leave, and then turned on his heel and strode out the door.

  "Take care, Dorran," Thea said as he shut the door behind him, but he didn't know whether she said it as an endearment or a warning.

  He walked and walked and kept walking, and soon found himself halfway down to where the barracks were before he even realized where he was going. He stopped himself and looked around, unwilling to disobey his mother's orders, even in spirit, any more than he already had. When he was sure there were no nobles about to round the corner, he swung an angry, reckless fist at the wall.

  "Damn it!" he yelled, slamming the palm of his other hand against the stone, striking it again and again. He wanted to see the wall crack under the strength of his arms. He wanted to break a hand or wrist with the force of his blows, but knew it would do him no good, his anger played out he turned and slammed his back against the wall and let himself slide to the cold ground.

  He hadn't felt this frustrated in years, but then, for years he had been able to train constantly he had been able to vent any frustrations or other overwhelming feelings in physical activity. He had practiced and fought and lost and gotten up until he had won, even if only through luck.

  Now, though, not only was he partially barred from the activity that had kept him sane for the last decade and set up as a laughingstock in front of his mother's council, the person he had trusted most was keeping secrets from him as though it were nothing.

  He struck the wall again, betrayed and angry, and imagined for a split second that he was striking at Edith herself, that the wall was her forearm blocking him as it had in their occasional tries at hand to hand combat.

  "Brother."

  Dorran jumped violently and looked over his shoulder to see Adhara standing in the corner, watching him with a guarded look on her face.

  "Addie," his mouth said by reflex. "I..." He realized quickly that he had no idea what he wanted to say after that, and looked down at his hands instead. He had managed to avoid doing any real damage to them, though his knuckles were red and angry-looking; he lowered his hands and placed them in a ready stance behind his back, as though he were waiting to receive orders.

  There was a long moment of silence, which Adhara was ultimately the one to break. "You should talk to Myriel," she said firmly.

  "Why?" he asked.

  "She's comfortable with the affairs of the castle, not to mention she is trustworthy those two qualities are rare enough by themselves, and priceless together. You're feeling out of your depth with the affairs of state, aren't you?"

  It wasn't really a question, and Dorran didn't really want to answer, but she continued for him anyway. "It wouldn't really be right for Nora or me to teach you, Mother's got enough on her plate already, and going to any of the other members of court would put you in their power...so Myriel's your best option."

  "All right..." he said slowly. He hadn't suspected that Myriel was more than a servant, albeit a very reliable and talented one.

  She
shook her head at him. "I hope it's not her station that's making you reluctant. You have friends in the barracks, don't you?"

  Dorran was too busy processing this to be offended at her assumption. "Of course, but I barely understand politics myself. It's not like I would ask them about it."

  She shrugged. "Well, trust me you're going to need every ally you can get." The words were cryptic, and her eyes were more so; they gave away nothing he could make out. "Talk to Myriel, brother. I'll arrange to have her take over some of your duties so you have an excuse to spend time with her."

  Then she turned and disappeared, leaving Dorran to stare blankly at the wall, wondering about the significance of what had just happened.

  CHAPTER V

  Having Myriel assigned to his chambers turned out to be an anticlimactic change. At first it felt a bit strange to talk to her, given her connection to the scolding he received the previous day, but she was so even keeled that he found himself overcoming the residual embarrassment quickly.

  She arrived at various times at least once a day to tidy up and bring meals or messages, but she remained silent unless he brought up a topic of conversation. These conversations were a bit awkward at first and incredibly short. As he got used to coaxing Myriel into talking. Her responses were so polite and bland he wondered whether she was even aware of the reason she'd been sent to work for him.

  At first, he tried to convince her to open up by asking her about her own life. "When did you come to the castle?" he asked, figuring it would be good to know more about her.

  "When I was five or six. I was raised by the kitchen servants," Myriel answered efficiently as she folded down the duvet on his bed and straightened the hangings on the canopy. "I don't remember living anywhere other than the castle."

  "I see..." Dorran said. "Do you have any plans for the future?"