Dragons and Destiny

by Candy Rae

  There was more; after their day at the Academie he proposed that the four of them be his guests for dinner. He would bring three officer trainees with him as company for the three youngsters so that they could meet each other in an informal setting.

  “So tomorrow I’ll take you on a guided tour of Settlement. We’ll also go to the livery stable to see about our mounts. We’ll need a couple of pack-mares too. I’m sure you’ll manage to fill the pack-hampers up.”

  James turned red. He had already been looking at some trinkets to take home to his pretty young wife.

  “My advice is to wait until we’re on our way home,” said Philip who had a good idea why the young man was blushing.

  “Sounds fun,” grinned Elliot, referring to their plans.

  Next morning the four woke early, breakfasted and made their way to the horse fair, Philip having decided that instead of hiring they should buy. After a considerable amount of haggling which left both Elliot and James open-mouthed, Philip purchased four riding beasts, one spare in case of accidents and two pack-mares.

  The riding animals were not of the quality and breeding Elliot was used to; Philip called them ‘plodders’, sturdy horses with thick legs and shaggy coats. Derek had met their kind before so he wasn’t as nonplussed as the other two.

  “These are our steeds?” queried the dubious Elliot in an aside to James.

  Philip overheard, as was usual. He had ears like a vuz.

  “They may be plodders,” he said, his head appearing above the withers of the one Elliot was standing beside, “but they’ll get us from one end of the continent to the other. They’ll do what the more quality animals won’t; they’ll keep going through everything the weather can throw at us. Merchants use this type of horse.”

  “What do the Argyllians use when they need to go fast?” enquired James.

  “There are faster horses; the Argyllians call them race steeds.”

  “Is that what their messengers use?”

  “Bless me, what have your tutors been teaching you? No, Argyll and Vadath are host to an organisation they call ‘The Express’ and it is the Lind who run that with their human partners. Lind are much faster than any horse.”

  “I thought all such were in the Vada,” commented James.

  “Most are but not all. You’ve heard of the Holad?”

  James shook his head but Elliot nodded. He had paid attention to his lessons. “It’s the medical section of the Vada.”

  “It’s rather more than that,” said Philip. “Not all of the Holad serve with the Vada. Many are strung out along the continent. They turn no one away. I’ve heard some live on the larger islands too but that might just be rumour.”

  “So the Holad is a kind of vocation?” asked Derek.

  “Something like. I’d maybe not go so far as to call it a vocation but there’s certainly a need to serve and tend in there somewhere. Let’s get these beasties back to the stables. The Stablemaster at the hotel is expecting them. I spoke to him last night. He’ll get them shod and arrange for the tack to be fitted. We’ve actually managed to get them much quicker than I expected. It’s only third candle-mark.”

  “They call it bells here,” Elliot corrected and Philip laughed.

  “Touché. Third Bell if you want to be pedantic,” he said with a merry twinkle in Elliot’s direction

  Elliot realised his father had been right. Philip Ross did have a sense of humour, despite his stern demeanour. This feeling had been growing since they had left Galland but this was the prince’s first conscious acceptance of what the inner Philip was like.

  “After lunch,” Philip continued, “we’ll have a look round Settlement.”

  After a delicious lunch of savoury cold meats and crunch-fried whiteroot in a piquant sauce, the four sallied forth into the sun, Elliot and James were chattering hard (James was by now back to normal when in Elliot’s company).

  Because Philip had been to Settlement before, he directed them with confidence.

  First they visited the Remembrance Gardens, a dalina-flower-scented place literally covered in the said blossoms and where were buried, Derek read aloud, “‘… the Martyrs of the Battle of the Alliance, AL2,’ strange, the plaque appears to be new.”

  “Probably the old one disintegrated,” suggested Elliot, “it was so long ago.”

  There was no one there to say that the old plaque had been taken down a few years ago when it was decided that the words on the old one might offend visitors from Murdoch. It had put the blame for the atrocity on ‘the men from the south’.

  From there they went to Ye Old Meeting House, now a museum. They spent over two bells in the museum. Elliot was fascinated by the artefacts and evidence of the earliest settlers.

  “There’s a bigger museum at Stewarton,” said Philip, growing restless. Elliot was showing no sign of wanting to leave. James was fidgeting. Derek, once he had seen what he wanted to see, had sat on the window seat to wait.

  It was as he sat that he noticed two men, one tall, the other short, standing in the street outside. Just why his eyes were drawn to them he wasn’t sure but drawn they were. He almost called Philip over but one of the men glanced up at that point, nudged the other and they walked away.

  At last Elliot was persuaded to leave and they made their way back to the hotel where they had a good meal, visited the horses and went to bed.

  * * * * *

  Elliot, Hilla and Robain

  The Garda Headquarters Complex of which the Academie was a part was situated at the southern end of Settlement. It was split into four sections and was encircled by a stone wall ten feet high. The walls looked very imposing to the four visitors as they approached the gate.

  Leftenant Hallam was to meet them in the Guardroom at Third Bell when he would take them on a conducted tour of all the sectors within the complex before taking them for lunch at the Academie. In the afternoon Philip was to give a lecture to both the First Year and the Second Year Staticum about how the Regiments of Murdoch defended their borders.

  Philip hustled them forward.

  At the guardroom the blue uniformed sergeant checked off their names against a list he held attached to a clipboard then sent off another blue clad figure to fetch Leftenant Hallam. Elliot realised he must have been on his way to collect them when he appeared a moment or two later.

  He was a tall, handsome young man in his mid-twenties and his was face wreathed in smiles.

  “Philip, Philip Ross by all that’s holy,” he said, hand outstretched. “Good to see you after all this time.” Robain regarded Elliot, James and Derek with interest.

  “Kellens Derek and Walter Merriman and Kellen James Cocteau.”

  “What brings you all to Argyll?”

  “We’re at the beginning of a tour,” explained Philip and Robain nodded. Such tours were not unusual. “We’ve got all the necessary documentation and permissions.”

  “I’m sure you have,” said Robain frowning, “but I don’t understand. Have you become a tutor to the rich? Last I heard you were in the service of the Crown-Prince.” Robain’s face was one giant question mark.

  “I was available,” was Philip’s answer. “believe it or not I actually volunteered. Fancied seeing a bit of the world again. The Crown-Prince gave me leave.”

  Robain chuckled. “Court life not to your liking, eh?”

  “It can be a bit constraining,” admitted Philip. “When their fathers mentioned that they were looking for someone to mentor their boys during their journey, let us just say that I was happy to oblige and leave it at that.”

  “Wilco,” acquiesced Robain and gestured that his guests should precede him out of the guardroom. Outside he indicated that he and Philip would walk in front and that the three ‘young gentlemen’ should follow.

  “We’ll start with the H.Q. proper,” he informed them. “The admin buildings and so forth and from there move on to the other ranks’ barracks then the Warrant Officer’s School. The Academie after that and that�
��s where I have arranged that we shall have lunch. This afternoon is the lecture and if there’s time perhaps you could watch some of the training. I’ve spoken to Major Bellahouston, he’s the O.C. of the Academie and he said that would be fine. Are any of you three heading for the army?”

  Philip answered for them.

  “Two are headed for royal administration and the other, Derek here is needed at home. Their demesne borders on the nadlians of theLarg. They’ve all had a certain amount of military training so I’m sure they’ll find it interesting.”

  “General Sainjon would also like to meet you, perhaps around Seventh Bell? I think he wants to pick your brains about the situation in the south. There have been rumours of late about unrest among the Larg.”

  “Who is General Sainjon?” whispered Elliot to Derek but Derek didn’t know.

  “Please tell General Sainjon that I will be delighted,” answered Philip.

  “Unfortunately I will not be able to accompany you all of the time. I’ve got classes to attend to but Regimental Sergeant Major Wallaceson will be here when I can’t. I’ve got to get the topic finished before I go.”

  “Go?” asked an interested Philip.

  “I’m about to make Captain.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be posted out of the Academie.”

  “Any idea where?”

  “Not officially but the greenvine tells me that it is up north somewhere.”

  “Looking forward to it?”

  “Yes and no,” smiled Robain. “It’ll be good to be back amongst the troops again. The Academie has been great fun and good for my career but two years is enough.”

  “So why the no?”

  Robain looked embarrassed, “well,” he admitted, “there is this girl.”

  “I knew it,” laughed Philip. “The General’s daughter?”

  “Nope. It’s one of the Trainees.”

  James and Elliot had been walking close enough behind them to hear what was being said and looked at each other.

  “An Officer Trainee.” James said to Elliot, sotto voice, “a girl?”

  Derek had overheard. “The Garda is made up of both sexes,” he explained. “Don’t show off your ignorance.”

  “But female officers?” this from Elliot, “but that would mean …”

  “… female officers are in command of men,” continued James in amazement.

  “Exactly,” continued Derek, “and remember not to treat the women trainees any different from the male ones. I’ve always thought,” he added in a detached manner, “that in some ways they must be better than their male counterparts.”

  “Impossible,” whispered Elliot.

  “Think about it, they’re female, not as physically strong but they must accomplish everything the men do.”

  “Bet you that when the class-lists are read out the females are at the bottom,” said James with a concealed snigger.

  “I think you’ll find that you will lose that wager, my young friend,” said Robain who had overheard something of what was being said despite their best efforts to the contrary.

  “How?” asked Elliot. “I don’t want to appear nosy sir, but I would like to know.”

  “The top graduates for the last two years have been female,” Robain answered.

  Elliot was gravelled and Robain had managed to silence James for the next half bell.

  “Now, this is the administration quadrangle, offices are on the ground floor and the Mess above. Unmarried quarters are at the back and on the attic floor. The oldest part was built in AL267 after the older, wooden buildings burned down. Behind it, you can’t see them, are the maisonettes for the married officers and their families. There’s not much to see inside so we’ll go straight through this door to the service complex where all the staff are based. Main kitchens are here too and the armoury.”

  Elliot sniffed. Lunch he decided was most definitely a-cooking and it smelt good. His stomach started to rumble but Robain was hurrying them through another door.

  “This area is where the warrant officers, sergeants and above, train,” he informed his guests. “There’s no courses on at the moment, you’ve come at an ‘in-between time’ so we’ll not hang around here either but get on to the Academie where the Officer Trainees are. R.S.M. Wallaceson can bring you back later if there’s anything you especially want to see.”

  “How long does officer training last?” asked Derek.

  “Two years. Both infantry and cavalry spend the first year here. Second year the latter move on to the cavalry school at Farquharson.”

  “Can you tell them apart?” asked Elliot, James not yet having recovered his voice.

  “Infantry blue and cavalry green.”

  “I mean between the two years.”

  Robain quirked an eyebrow at this inquisitive young guest. He answered and pretended not to see the quelling look Philip gave Elliot.

  “Second years wear white collar tabs,” Robain said. “This is the Academie.”

  They saw a pristine white building of two floors, with evenly spaced windows and a low roof. It was built around three sides of a large paved square which, Robain informed them was the main parade ground of the Garda.

  “The Academie,” Robain said, pride tingeing his voice. “Home at this moment to seventy-eight trainee officers and the training staff.

  The four visitors were impressed and showed it.

  “It’s a beautiful building, isn’t it?” enquired Robain. “It was designed by Halbert. The stone isn’t local, it comes from the west and was brought here by ship. I’ve always thought of her as an old lady growing old gracefully, some of the greenvines she’s covered with round the back are over two hundred years old.”

  Elliot stood staring and made the decision that when he became king the Regimental Officer School at Fort must be rebuilt along the same lines.

  “Shall we look inside the building?” asked Robain.

  Elliot was enchanted at the prospect.

  Lunch, Elliot and the others found, was a formal affair, the seventy-eight uniformed first and second staticum trainees which Elliot had learned held the rank Juvenis and Senis were seated in ordered rows both sides of three long tables, twenty-six to each.

  The training officers and their guests sat at the other table at the top of the room.

  To Elliot’s distinct annoyance, he and James had been given seats with their backs to the trainees whilst Derek had been placed at one end and Philip had accepted a chair at Major Bellahouston’s right.

  Elliot didn’t like it but he managed to smother any visible signs of annoyance and accepted his place with resignation.

  Robain saw the faint flicker of annoyance and wondered. He also noticed as he looked at Derek Merriman and back that although Derek and Walter had been introduced as brothers, they were surprisingly unalike. When he regarded the younger one, he noticed that there was an indefinable oddness about him which he couldn’t put his finger on.

  He smiled at the younger Kellen Merriman.

  “I’m looking forward to tonight. It will be a pleasant change to eat outside the Academie. Food is good here but the restaurant we’re going to is my favourite. Patron and chef both come from one of the islands and specialise in traditional island dishes. I’m hoping you’ll enjoy it.

  “I’m sure we will sir,” said ‘Walter’.

  * * * * *

  When Philip, Derek, James and Elliot arrived at the restaurant they received another surprise. Robain had told them that he was bringing three friends to the meal and they had been expecting another three male officers. They were trainees and they were female. Robain introduced them as Juvenis Hilla Talansdochter, Juvenis Jen Durand and Senis Sandra de Groot.

  Elliot introduced himself with tongue-tied confusion. James and Derek managed better. All four Garda were wearing what Robain called ‘undress uniform’ which they wore during their time off duty but not on leave when they could wear civilian clothes. In fact, he explain
ed further with a grin at one of the young women, trainees were not allowed out of the Academie in anything but uniform. “It helps us keep tabs on them when they’re up to mischief down town.”

  Derek offered Jen the chair to his right, pulling it out for her so that she could sit down. James did the same for Sandra. Belatedly, Elliot held out the chair to his right for Hilla. Robain sat next to Hilla and Philip took the one between Robain and James, facing the door.

  There was an awkward silence, James and Elliot especially not being sure what they should say. In Murdoch one created polite chit-chat about what Elliot privately called a lot of fripperation with female table partners. The three southern lads found themselves at a loss.

  “I saw you at the lecture earlier,” Elliot said at last, turning to Hilla.

  “I was there,” she answered in a prim voice. These weren’t the first people from Murdoch she had met, southern merchants often stayed at her father’s inn but they were the first she had met in a social environment and she wasn’t sure what she should say either.

  “Do you have lectures every day?” he persevered while Philip and Robain tried to hide their smiles at this very correct conversation.

  The waiters arrived with the first course with the light wine Robain had ordered and these small beginnings stalled.

  “I took the liberty of ordering,” said Robain.

  “What is it?” asked Elliot eyeing the crispy green concoction on the plate.

  “Crisp Seaweed.”

  “Seaweed?”

  “Delicacy of the house,” Robain explained. “Hoe in everyone, it’s best eaten hot.” Lifting his fork he speared a large leaf.

  “It’s absolutely delicious,” exclaimed an amazed James from opposite Elliot. “Hurry up everyone.”