by Crystal Dawn
“I hate to see what he does when he’s in charge.”
“Let’s hope he matures before that. Either way, I have a feeling I won’t be here to see it.” Why, Flint didn’t know, but he believed it to be true.
“If you leave, I’m with you. Maybe without us to rely on, Damian will become the man he needs to be.” Ender suggested.
“It’s almost like he had different parents. Him and Forest.”
“What, do you think, he was the butcher’s son?” Ender ask with a chuckle.
Flint looked horrified. “Mother would never. No, maybe they take after a relative we don’t know.”
“Ah, the throwback theory? Many a butcher’s child has been explained that way.”
“Enough with the butcher. Are you hungry? Is that the problem?” Flint’s stomach made a noise and he knew he was starving.
“I could eat. You do realize it’s well past midday meal? We’ll have to sweet talk Cook.”
“That should be easy enough. Just give her one of your famous smiles.” Flint directed.
“She’s a hundred if she’s a day, she might take it seriously. No, you give her one of your deeply brooding looks. I’ve heard the head librarian hasn’t recovered from it yet.”
“Pshaw, I wasn’t trying to seduce her. I just wanted a book on fighting strategy.”
“See, you can do it without even trying.” Ender laughed.
“Very funny, Brother.” They walked the rest of the way to the kitchen together in silence.
When they arrived, the cooks were busy baking pies from some seasonal fruit that Forest’s assistant had purchased. They smelled delicious. A young girl, maybe seventeen, was working with some meats. “Miss?” Ender asked.
“Yes?” She asked as she turned. “Oh, my. You’re the prince. You’re both princes.”
“Yes, we are. We missed midday meal and wondered if you could fix us each a plate of something.”
“You want me to, oh goodness, fix you a plate?” She asked shaking with excitement or possibly nervousness.
“Yes, if that’s not too much trouble?” Ender added with his famous smile. She turned a lovely pink and hurried off to get what was needed.
“See? Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Flint asked.
Ender sent him a glare and they waited a few minutes until the girl brought back a cold plate of sausages and cheese. Not bad, considering everything. They carried their food to the garden so they wouldn’t be disturbed, but no longer in a secure room, they didn’t discuss anything of importance.
Of all the people in his life, Flint was closest to his brother, Ender. Sitting and talking to him while they ate had made Flint feel better and more grounded. Now they parted ways to get back to their duties, he would go and practice with his men while Ender would do whatever mysterious things those serving their religion did behind closed doors.
Flint headed to his room first to grab his armor and his weapons. His armor was black to designate a high rank. Most of the other soldiers wore silver colored armor. His sword was one of the finest and heaviest in the kingdom or possibly any kingdom. The hilt of his sword was a thing of beauty. Jewels were embedded in the cross guard in the forms of mythical creatures like dragons and phoenixes. The grip was unadorned because that could affect his ability to hold tight to it. The pommel was silver and he kept it and the long well balanced blade clean and polished to a high shine. The edge of the blade was sharp enough to cut a blade of grass if it was dropped across the lower two thirds of the blade. The top third wasn’t sharpened since only the end of the sword was needed.
Once he was armored and girded, his sword strapped to his side, Flint was ready to join the men and enjoy the fight. They were sparring so the point was not to kill or maim, but merely to improve one’s skills. It was still one of the activities he treasured and he had gotten to be extremely skilled. So skilled, in fact, that none could best him. He was the champion of their kingdom, with weapons or without.
Leaving his chambers, he headed to the arena where they would practice. It wasn’t unusual for young boys with their eyes lit up and females with their hearts in their eyes to sit in the stands to watch their heroes practice. Today was no exception, the stands were nearly full. The arena was dual purpose, set up for the use of soldiers, but also for the use of every citizen wanting entertainment.
It chafed a bit that they worked out in the same place jesters and jugglers vied for laughs, just not at the same time. It wasn’t that Flint didn’t like a good laugh, sometimes he needed one desperately. Using a place where blood was often spilled for something as carefree as juggling balls or tripping over one’s feet, just seemed like a slap in the face to those warriors who died when fights turned ugly. His father told him it was a matter of finances, but Flint suspected it was just another test in making do.
He surveyed the grounds, glad to find many of his experienced warriors working with the less so. That was the way training started. In the last part of training, experienced warriors would face off with other experienced warriors to show the young ones how things were done. Arcan, his second in command, was working with two of the young warriors. Fighting him would provide a challenge most of the other soldiers didn’t have the strength or skills to give.
“Arcan, got a minute?” Flint yelled across the field. Arcan stopped what he was doing and had the two soldiers practice moves while he was gone.
“Flint, I wondered if you would show up for practice.” Arcan said.
“You know I come when I can. Be glad you don’t have to deal with my father and brother. Being a warrior shouldn’t be political.”
“Ah, my friend, you know it is once you’re head warrior.” Arcan chuckled. “Better you than me.”
“What a friend you are. No sympathy at all.”
“Sympathy just encourages self-pity.”
“So my father has always said.” Flint admitted. “How does this latest group of trainees look?”
“Most are typical sign ups. The two I’m working with might have officer potential. We’ll see how it goes. What did you need?”
“I need a good fight and you’re the closest to it I can find.”
“Asshole. Only you could turn what should be praise of my warrior standing into an insult.”
“I try.”
“Weapons or hand to hand?” Arcan asked.
“I want to get down and dirty. Hand to hand so I don’t accidently cut a part off you.”
“As if you could.” Arcan jeered. “Let’s give them a good show.”
Arcan moved closer to the recruits and let off a loud shrill whistle. It caught the attention of everyone and they all set their weapons down and turned to take his instructions. “Everyone gather in a circle. I’m about to school our head warrior.” The men immediately formed the traditional circle. If anyone got to close to the edge, they would push them back to their adversary.
Flint began taking off his weapons and armor and Arcan did the same. Both were bare chested and ready to go. Sander, who was one of the captains, called out for them to start. They circled looking for a weakness or a moment of inattention. There was none to find so they both moved in swinging. Toe to toe, they beat the hell out of each other but Flint felt himself gaining ground. His punches were harder, his strikes more carefully aimed.
Arcan seemed to realize it too, but it made him sloppy. He was rushing trying to get ahead, all it did was cost him. Flint landed a punch on his nose and even though he didn’t use his full strength, it erupted with blood spraying everywhere.
“Want to call it quits, Princess?” Flint asked.
“Fuck you, Flint.” He growled.
“Not my type, even if your ass does look firm and virginal.”
“Damn it, Flint. You know I love the ladies.”
“But do they love you?” Goaded, Arcan rushed in just to get a stiff uppercut to his chin. He landed on the ground, not knocked out, but clearly beaten.
“Are you alright?” Flint asked.
“Give it up, Arcan. You’re getting too old for this.”
“I’m just two weeks older than you, Whelp!”
“Here.” Flint said as he held out his hand to help Arcan up. They moved to the seats at the bottom of the arena and sat watching as Sander set up more fights among the seasoned warriors for the new ones to watch.
“One of these days, Flint, I will see you on your ass.”
“I never knew you were a dreamer.” Flint observed with pure confidence.
A messenger approached. He was a young boy maybe twelve years of age. “Prince Flint,” the boy wheezed in between breaths. He must have run as fast as he could from the other side of the castle.
“Speak, Boy.”
“I’ve ridden from the border to the northwest. A stranger has been spotted. They appeared out of nowhere and the sentries are watching closely. The man is dressed as a warrior and rides a giant horse a foot taller than those we have. The warrior is slim, short, and headed toward the castle. What do you wish the guards to do?”
“Do they have any reason to suspect the stranger of wishing to do us harm?” Flint asked.
“No, but they are concerned since this person and their dress is different from any they’ve seen.”
“Different isn’t always dangerous. Have them continue to track the stranger and alert me when they are closer.”
“Yes, my prince. It will be done as you direct.”
“Who do you think it might be?” Arcan asked.
“It could be an entertainer, they often dress strangely for attention.” Flint suggested.
“Armed like a warrior? No entertainer wants to be challenged to protect themselves.” Arcan pointed out.
“It’s one soldier. What do we have to fear from them?”
“Maybe they are an assassin?”
“Assassins hide and dress to fit in. This man has made no attempt to hide and has dressed in a way which draws attention to him.”
“The horse already draws attention. I wonder what kind of horse it might be. Our stables breed the biggest horses I know of anywhere.” Arcan conjectured.
“We will see when they arrive.”
“You’re no fun, Flint. Maybe we should go out whoring and drinking? When’s the last time you cut loose and forgot your troubles?”
“It’s been a long time indeed, but I’d hate to have others believe I’m like Damian.”
“No one would confuse the two of you.”
“I wouldn’t mind a drink, old friend, but I draw a line at spending the night with a whore.”
“A drink will be nice and once you leave, I’ll find my own company for the night. The ladies will see I’m a warrior who was wounded and nurse me back to health.”
“You’re a con man. You simply were injured in a training exercise. There’s no glory for you. I can’t imagine the story you’ll make up to tell those ladies.”
An hour later, as they sat in a booth at the local tavern, The Elk Horn, he was beginning to get an idea of what Arcan would tell the ladies. Flint had been lucky that none of them had recognized him yet. Maybe it was because he sat silently listening to Arcan’s account of a battle fought between several soldiers and a force of enemies trying to sneak into town. A story so unbelievable, he was amazed none of the ladies questioned it.
In fact, the ladies in question screamed in horror at the violence and the blood in the tale and sympathized with poor Arcan who had single handedly turned the tide of the fight. An amazing warrior like he described had surely never existed, but the ladies wanted to believe. He had a lady on each side hugging and kissing on him. Flint had discouraged any attempts the females had made to get closer.
He’d even heard one girl whisper, “He’s probably taken.” It was alright if they thought it. That was the way he felt since the dreams had started. There was just no interest in any woman but the one he dreamed about.
An hour later, he left Arcan to the ladies hoping he’d find a room and not continue the embarrassing carrying on at the table. Arcan was a good soldier, and it had been a while since he had let loose. Flint continued to his room and took a shower to get the smell of pipe smoke off his body. The beer had relaxed him and once clean, he fell into bed and was asleep in seconds.
It wasn’t long before his dream lover visited him. This time it seemed so real. She stood leaning in the doorway against the frame. The outfit she wore was made to seduce even though it fell to the floor. It showed an incredible hint of cleavage, but the nightgown was almost see through. He caught hints but couldn’t see anything clearly.
He found it maddening and got up from his bed. “You drive me crazy with need.” Flint said.
“I am yours, just take me and claim me forever.”
“Forever is a long time. We don’t even know each other.” He protested even as the need washed over him gaining strength.
“Don’t you want me?” She asked flirtatiously and turned away as if she considered leaving.
“No!” He called out as he grabbed her arm. “Don’t leave me. I need you too much.”
A smile came to her face. It made her even sexier. “You want me, too. I’m so glad. Now we can save the magic.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“It’s okay. We’ll be so happy together, but you’ll have to leave. I have to go home and I’ll take you with me.”
“Where is your home?”
“It’s a land far, far away. You’ll love it. The place is beautiful beyond belief.”
“My kingdom is beautiful, too. “ Flint didn’t know why he argued. He wanted to leave this place, didn’t he? Now that she was offering the way out he was resisting. Flint knew he had to be crazy.
“Don’t you want to come with me?” She started fading out of sight.
“Wait! Don’t go.” She was gone and now Flint was awake and it was dawn. That had been one hell of a dream.
He got up, ready to start his day. Breakfast first, then he would meet with his father. Sometimes they ate breakfast together and met over a leisurely meal. Today, he didn’t want to see his father that soon. The feelings he had about leaving bothered him. If he left now, he knew his father wouldn’t understand. Waiting might make it harder to go. It confused him that he felt so driven to go now. Sure, Damian had given him some attitude, but was it really worse than usual?
Going to the dining room where the soldiers ate, he was surprised to see Arcan there. “I didn’t plan to see you until the afternoon. Strike out?” Flint noticed Arcan had a few more bruises than he’d had the last time he’d seen him.
“No, it seems both ladies were married. I tried to explain to the men that I had no idea and was happy to move on to ladies who were available, but it seems jealousy has no reason. Now their wives can nurse their own husbands back to good health. Maybe you are onto something. I’ll be leaving the ladies alone for a while.”
“Until you forget.”
“Or find a lady of my own.”
“I didn’t know you were looking.”
“I’ve always had my eye out for her, I’ve just had no luck finding her.”
“That’s a story I’ve heard a lot.” The server brought them their food and they stopped talking in favor of eating. It was a hearty breakfast of biscuits and gravy with a couple eggs thrown on top. It would get them through until lunch.
“You heading to see your father?”
“Just like I do every morning.”
“You going to tell him about the stranger?”
“Only once there is something to tell. Why?”
“Just wondering. It’s the most exciting thing around here in a while.”
“He’s got a lot on his mind. I don’t usually tell him anything unless it’s important.”
“Maybe a distraction would be a good thing. Just saying.”
Maybe Arcan was right. The king did have nothing but serious matters to stress over. Maybe something to be c
urious about would give him a break from matters of state. Flint thought about it as he headed to his father’s study. It was a beautiful room with glass doors leading to the garden. The doors let in light and he could see the plants and flowers through them. Some days the doors were open to catch the breeze. The walls were a rich wood paneling and the floors wood planks. The wood continued in the furniture and his desk was a huge oak piece custom-made just to fit the room. His father sat behind it on his throne like desk chair. It was hard to imagine Damian sitting there.
“Good morning, Flint. Have you eaten yet?” He asked as he gestured to some food left on a plate.
“Yes, I ate with Arcan this morning. He was hurt when we sparred, but he’s better now.”
“I saw Arcan this morning. Did you have to inflict so much damage?” His father’s tone was rife with disapproval.
“He also had a bar fight afterward. I’ll claim the damage to his nose, everything else was gotten from someone else.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I had planned to tell you to punish whatever soldier had gotten that carried away. Now, let’s get on with business.”
“There is little activity on the border right now. The sentries have spotted a stranger making their way here.”
“Tell me more about this stranger.” His father demanded, his eyes keen with interest.
“The guard reported the stranger rode a horse at least a foot taller than our best. I will be interested in seeing how close his estimate is.”
“You don’t seem too worried.”
“More curious than anything. They said the stranger’s clothes are odd and they believe him to be a warrior.”
“Why do they believe this?”
“The stranger is armed with a large sword and dressed in black leather. He also has the bearing of a soldier. I received a report on my way here that said the man will be here this afternoon.”
“Alert me if anything comes of this.”
“It will be done. Do you have any other questions?”
“Not this morning. Everything seems to be in good order. How do you feel about Forest’s new assistant?”
