The Reincarnated Prince (Thirty Years of Winter Book 1)

by Danny Macks

  “I suspect it is easier to do it quickly,” Inius said before performing the maneuver quickly, twice more. He was breathing hard, but grinned at Jeb when he finished. “You’re a bit young to know what a human is and is not capable of.”

  Jeb smiled back before returning to preparing the rabbits. Lord and colt played, running around the field, leaping and jumping. Jeb was just finishing the preparation and turning away from the cooking meat when Inius did a running handspring with a half twist that left him facing the direction he had come from.

  Midnight ran in front of the lord, leapt, spun one hundred and eighty degrees when his forelegs hit grass and kicked out with both rear hooves, then rolled when he flubbed the landing.

  “Did you see that?” Inius yelled “Did you see that spin on his forelegs?”

  “I … I’ve never seen a horse do that before. I didn’t know a horse could spin like that.”

  Inius hugged Midnight and the colt let out a worried noise that brought Mother running to him. Ravnos gave her room and returned to the fire. “I’ve seen that. Once. A little over a year ago.” His grin grew speculative. “Imagine what a horse could do with a knight that could ride-out a maneuver like that on him.”

  “How many knights can ride that well?” Jeb asked.

  “None. I mean, I know several that could remain in the saddle, but not remain effective.”

  “I could do it. Bareback.”

  Inius looked back and forth between the colt, who was running laps in a big circle and the scrawny teen in shabby tunic and trews.

  “You aren’t strong enough, even if you were that good of a rider. But we can fix that.” Inius smiled and Jeb’s mood sank. “C’mon, Horse! Time to load up! We can eat while we walk.”

  Chapter Thirteen – A Hospitable Nature

  Although his muscles screamed in protest, Jeb pushed to walk every day a bit farther than the day before, but it still took several days to reach Kingswharf, on the shores of the Cauda Draconis River.

  The sun was setting as Jeb contemplated the banners on either side of the city’s main gate -- a wavy vertical golden snake on a field of horizontal green and black stripes. He realized he didn't know much about the barony of Colubra beyond the historical facts that Nimbus made him memorize for all of the thirty baronies. Lessons were a pale substitute for actual experience, but that was the prince’s problem. Pious had been discovered over a year ago and had probably visited all thirty of the baronies for himself by now.

  With the sun setting, he expected the lord to get a room at the inn just inside the gates, but Inius continued straight up the main avenue toward the baronial castle.

  Inius had dressed in his enameled and gilded armor, black and silver in the colors of the Barony of Ravnos. As the lord walked up the street, people parted to make way for him and traffic resumed behind them. Jeb followed behind with each hand on a horse's halter. Mother handled wearing a halter again well enough, but Midnight was acting testy and kept pulling on Jeb’s hand.

  Without a warning bob of his head, Midnight kicked out at a wagon that passed too close to his flank, cracking the boards and breaking open a bag of grain, then kicked again as the grain splashed on his rear legs.

  Jeb yanked both horses forward and bumped into Inius who ducked under Jeb’s arm and charged behind them, poleaxe at the ready a mere second after Midnight’s first kick. The horses angled away from the activity and Mother's rear hooves hopped up nervously, preparing to kick out at the crowd. Jeb yanked and got both horses dangerous rear hooves pointed toward the empty spot Inius had vacated a moment before, then stepped out from between mother and colt before she got upset about that too. He wanted to deal with the damage Midnight had caused behind him, but the horses were still unsettled. Jeb knew where Inius expected his priorities to lie.

  As the horses calmed, an odd sense of wonder overcame him. For the first time in waking memory, somebody quite literally had his back. Whatever danger was coming for him, he was certain it wasn’t to the rear.

  Jeb and Inius were strangers in this town. The owner of the cart could have friends that meant him harm. He gave both halters a quick shake, agitating the horses just enough that they pranced and people in front of Jeb gave them a wide berth.

  “You have my flank,” Inius said behind him a moment later. A statement, not a question.

  Jeb spared a glance behind him and saw the lord holding a bag of grain while a fat peasant counted coins behind him.

  “Yes. And you have mine.”

  Inius nodded, set the thirty pound bag of grain on top of Jeb’s backpack and without a word took Mother’s halter, freeing up both of Jeb’s hands to calm Midnight.

  This time, Jeb didn’t mind the weight.

  *****

  When Wolfey died and Chad started traveling with Baron Thesscore on his business around the kingdom, his father used to pay people to attack he and Deen. The instructions were always the same: wait until the young squires were not paying attention to their surroundings, then hit them. Chad grew to look on any crowd with dread.

  Now that Chad was lord mayor of Erroll, crowds were a daily part of life. He knew he could easily have a squad of soldiers clear the streets as he traveled, but Chad wanted to know his people the way his mother seemed to know every farmer and merchant in Thesscore and he couldn't do that with a wall of soldiers between him and his people. So, every morning he woke before dawn and walked the streets alone, tunnel vision or no, getting lost often, but learning his way.

  Back at the castle, "keeping busy" had become a pattern. He would perform his morning exercises to exhaustion, then meet with Wes to discuss history while his body recovered. After getting to know Nimbus, his relationship with his history teacher had evolved into a partnership. Nimbus understood a great deal about history, and recognized patterns in behavior enough to be realistic in his views, but didn't seem to understand the whys that drove this behavior. He knew that people could eat hoperoot because he saw people eat it, but he didn’t know why no mention of its edible properties was made when King Pious ordered it planted. Wes became his liaison to the Libros guild.

  Morning meeting with Wes was followed by lunch with Mercer, the seneschal. These meetings initially involved studying lots of maps and learning names related to the various guilds until Chad's talent for memorization made the lists pointless. His meetings with Mercer quickly evolved into trips back into the city to meet the city guild leaders as well as explore the various inns and eateries that the capitol had to offer. Mercer was a nervous man, habitually worried and painfully obsequious as a result.

  The rest of the day was spent with King Oberon and Prince Pious: King’s Court in the early afternoon followed by a meal and then weapon training to exhaustion, first with the prince, then alone when the prince tired. Then, after the sun had set and alone at last, Nimbus would visit.

  It was on one such visit that Nimbus brought several shades to see the young lord. One of the four was lighter than the others, grayish, and close enough to Nimbus in appearance that Chad would have had difficulty telling them apart if they had not been side by side.

  M’lord, Nimbus signed, this is Shade. He arrived in advance of an envoy from Cormeum. They will be scouting the city and the castle prior to the envoy’s arrival.

  “Welcome.” Chad set aside his notes and rose. “As mayor of Erroll, I offer the city’s hospitality to you and all the shades with you according to the traditions of Kibus.”

  We do not need your hospitality, Shade signed, but thank you for the offer.

  “Nonetheless, the offer stands.”

  It would be rude to refuse, Nimbus signed, and dishonest to accept under false pretenses.

  Shade turned to Nimbus and some communication must have passed between them because Nimbus signed, Please speak so that our host can hear.

  As the old one says, it would be rude to refuse. We accept your hospitality. Thank you.

  “You are welcome. Nimbus, would you please see that our guests hav
e proper escorts?”

  That is not necessary, Shade signed, while Nimbus signed his agreement.

  “As a good host, I insist. May I offer you something while we wait?”

  After Nimbus left, Chad made several attempts to engage the shades, but failed to receive anything other than the most curt of replies. Nimbus returned with four brightly glowing nimbi. The shades would be unable to go anywhere unseen.

  When the guests and their escorts left, Nimbus bowed deeply to Chad. Well done.

  *****

  In hindsight, it was obvious that Inius sought out hospitality at Colubra Castle. Hospitality was supposed to be one of the cornerstones of modern society. Most children’s stories revolved around violated hospitality ... giants that deserved to die after chopping off the feet of sleeping guests, fathers loosing their daughters in retaliation for stealing food or even flowers without asking.

  For Jeb, hospitality meant a place in the loft of Baroness Colubra’s stable with her own groomsman. It was rude, but he slept in Mother’s stall instead. He didn't care if they thought he was antisocial, he preferred being stepped on by a horse to the horrors his imagination could produce from a crowd of strangers. He barely understood how Inius could be so trusting as to travel alone.

  In his dreams he was never alone. A cadre of at least thirty men was the norm. Awake, he was technically alone in the loft of the Dancing Goat, but the loft had preplanned escape routes that lead to help. To Harker. Sleep was slow coming.

  The next morning Jeb noticed Inius had stopped calling him “Horse” and hadn't resumed when they found a boat large enough for two horses headed north.

  *****

  With the arrival of the Cormeum shades, King Oberon’s health took an immediate turn for the worse. Chad wanted to blame Shade, but if the visiting ethereals had been involved, their escorts had seen nothing.

  “In addition to the weakness, his delirium is getting worse, ” chirurgeon Hesser confided to Chad and the prince in the hall outside the royal chambers. “I've been asked if it could be poison, and I've been giving him some general treatments for ingested poison just in case, but nothing we've tested shows any sign of it. It's very unprofessional for me to say so, but his body may be simply finally giving out.”

  “Do what you can,” Chad said with a comforting hand on the blonde man’s shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything and it will be provided.”

  When Hesser returned to the king’s side, Chad noticed Pious was glowering.

  “What?”

  “He ignored me. I am the prince and he spoke to you instead.”

  “You may be the prince, but you’re nine.” Chad resisted the urge to tousle the boy’s hair and add to the prince’s foul mood. “He couldn't look up to talk to me and down to you at the same time.”

  “I should have him flogged.”

  Chad wasn't sure if King Oberon would have approved or objected. “What would your mother think?”

  “A king should be free of earthly attachments. The woman who birthed me was a potential distraction and Father had her killed, some time ago, along with her husband, siblings and parents.”

  Her husband, her siblings, her parents. Not Pious’ parents, aunts and grandparents.

  “So King Oberon is the only family you have left?”

  “Not for long.” Pious frowned, took a deep breath, visibly shook himself, and said, “Please let the herald know that I will be conducting King’s Court until my father’s health improves.”

  *****

  “If you can’t explain the problem to a nine year old, you don’t understand the problem.” Pious told the merchant standing before the throne. “I look forward to your return when you are prepared to answer all our questions on the issue.”

  Much to Chad’s surprise, Pious’ first few days over king’s court had been better than he feared. The child asked insightful questions and demanded that anyone who could not answer his questions about a given problem leave and return when they could. This wasn’t ideal, but the prince was nine and the backlog created could be dealt with when King Oberon’s health improved.

  Although nine, Pious was free of King Oberon’s irrational moods and didn’t consult dead people for advice. When Chad had told him about the purpose of hoperoot, Pious suggested that the lords take the money they were previously spending on the poor and divert it to the purchase of potted hoperoot plants. Pious’ idea was that the fires of the previous summer could be prevented if the edible bramble could be prevented from establishing deep roots. He was exactly what Chad expected: improving on the ideas of the previous generation.

  Wes had let Chad know that he wasn't so convinced. The occasional frosts were impacting the harvest, particularly in the northern baronies, and farmers were also having difficulty replanting. Wes felt that the slow-growing hoperoot plant needed to be allowed to sink deep roots to be frost resistant, but as yet didn't have any proof to back up his theories.

  Chad’s attention was pulled back when the human envoy from Cormeum stepped into the throne room. All of the members of the envoy were dressed in ankle-length black robes with sleeves that draped from the wrist instead of the elbow and close-fitting knitted black caps on their heads. Priests.

  “Greetings, your highness. We offer greetings and thank you for your hospitality. After the recent news, I have come to again offer the Vault of Tualias as the only proper place to store the last piece of soul magic loose in our kingdoms.”

  Pious grinned, “We thank you for your offer and will gladly send a detachment to claim the Vault you have so generously gifted to us.”

  The envoy smiled back. “I was told of his highness’s generosity, but not of his excellent sense of humor.”

  Pious rose from the throne, pulled on his fencing gloves and drew the King’s Sword from its sheath. The real sword, not the golden and jeweled one King Oberon usually wore. Then he stepped down to the envoy and held it out like a gift. Chad noted that he had the blade backwards and was accidentally offering it point first.

  A surprised expression flew across the priest’s face but he quickly recovered and pulled on his own gloves. It was possible the priest had never seen any of the artifacts in the Vault of Tualias, let alone handled one. Returning with the most powerful artifact of them all was a guaranteed promotion, possibly to the head of the Nirvanist Church itself. A rapturous expression filled his face as he touched the blade of the King's Sword.

  Just as the priest lifted the weight of the blade from the prince’s hands, Pious jerked and the sword sliced the priest’s glove.

  The other priests rushed to their leader’s aide but there was nothing they could do when the priests blood began to sizzle. Without weapons in the throne room, they couldn’t even execute him to relieve his pain. Pious grinned all the way back to his throne.

  “They were guests,” Chad hissed. "We both offered them hospitality!"

  “I know what I'm doing,” Pious replied. “Don’t question your prince.”

  When the screams finally died, the remaining priests glared at the throne, their expressions murderous.

  “We grieve for your unfortunate accident,” Pious proclaimed. “I blame the priest’s poorly designed gloves. I suggest the next priest who tries touching my sword does so bare-handed. Who’s first?”

  None volunteered to join their leader.

  *****

  The sun was fading in the west when Nimbus appeared for his evening consultation with Chad.

  Shade has left. News of the priest’s death will outrun the returning human envoy to Cormeum.

  Chad had hoped to distract himself from the days events with study and had been looking forward to Nimbus’ evening arrival. He sighed and put down his pen. “What did you expect me to do? He is the prince.”

  You offered hospitality. Hospitality includes responsibility. You did nothing while Pious acted like a spoiled child. The consequences of today are your fault.

  “The prince is a child. Again, what am I supposed to
do about it?”

  You should have taken his sword. He isn’t one of the six.

  “Six? Six what? Only two people can touch the king’s sword and live.”

  Nimbus hesitated, then shook his head. The King's sword is powerful because six souls power it. The Winter Champion is one of the six and can touch it without harm. Only two of the six souls who power the sword have ever been king.

  Chad frowned at the softly glowing ghost. If Nimbus was lying and he touched the king’s sword, he would die. The blackness would be slower if he touched the handle instead of being cut by the blade, but he would be just as dead.

  With Chad dead, Nimbus could then travel to Cormeum and claim the death of the priest had been balanced by the death of the man who had offered hospitality: the Winter Champion. War could be averted… until Pious did something else. In theory he believed in sacrifice, but not in senseless death: especially his own. He couldn’t take the chance.

  Once he decided to not risk his life, a second thought surfaced: the treason against Pious not so subtly hidden in Nimbus’ words.

  “If Pious isn’t a rightful heir, who is he? Midnight saved him.”

  Before he forgot his life, what you call death, the one you call Pious was a groomsman in the employ of Lord Equus, tasked with the care of the Winter Stallion. He was killed during the Peasants Revolt.

  “Does Shade know this?”

  Shade sees who Pious is. He doesn’t know who he was.

  It was all too neat. Anything Nimbus said could not be verified and he was immune from punishment for lying.

  “If six people can touch the king’s sword, who are the others?”

  The Gatekeeper will be born on your fortieth birthday: the one hundredth year of the twelftury. Oberon will be born again at the end of the twelftury, on the first day of spring, when you turn sixty. The next will be born on year twenty. Only the Winter Champion and the true Winter King should be alive to touch the sword now.