In response to the blow, two blaster barrels extended out of the Head Knight's bracer armor and over his hand, which he pointed toward the Prince.
Hearing the whine of the power buildup from the guns, Blayne rolled under Morgan’s extended arm and came up behind the Knight, the blaster bolts burning into the floor where he had stood. The Knight's hidden arm blasters were the hallmark of the House Knights and took the Knights years to master. As a member of the Royal family he had been required to train with a wide variety of weapons, and the bracer guns were the epitome of the weapon training program. Only recently had he started training with them and had already reached a minimum proficiency level with the unusual weapon.
Spinning on one foot, Morgan drove the point of his knife straight at Blayne’s chest. Blayne shifted to the side at the last second and watched the tip of the dagger slide past him. Morgan was always trying to catch him off guard, testing him with surprise attacks and unusual combat scenarios. Blayne wasn’t the biggest fan of fighting, especially knife dueling. He could never understand the Knight's fascination with the old-fashion blades when they had modern weaponry to defend themselves with. But Morgan, and his parents, insisted he learn how to protect himself. Luckily for him, it turned out he had a unusual knack for it, despite his lack of enthusiasm. For him, it seemed like time slowed down, just a little during a fight. It allowed him to react with surprising speed to most attacks. Morgan always insisted he had the reflexes of a warrior, but the brain of an ox. But to Blayne, his quick reflexes were more useful for skysurfing and the other extreme sports he loved to take part in, rather than combat.
Stepping into Morgan’s attack moved him closer to the Knight. Blayne snapped his foot down, aimed at Morgan’s forward knee, meaning to end this little demonstration quickly. But Morgan’s knee was not where he expected it to be, and Blayne’s foot swung through empty air, pulling him off balance to fall to the floor.
Standing a meter off to the side Morgan claimed, “And you think I’m predictable? You’ve gone for the knee three out of the last five attempts.” He stepped over to offer the Prince a hand up and pointed out, “Look at you, on the floor and I never laid a hand on you.”
Brushing off his kilt, Blayne had to agree with the Knight but accused, “You set me up. You knew I would respond like that.”
“Damn right. The best way for you to be aware of your weakness is to fall flat on it,” Morgan chuckled. “Now let’s get you to the ceremony before we are late. You don’t want the Queen mad at both of us, do you?” he said stroking his trimmed brown beard.
Blayne shook his head, “Um, no. I’d rather crash my skyboard again, without a helmet,” he said and led the way out of his quarters. “Let’s get this over with.”
Chapter 3
Blayne headed to the King’s Chamber, escorted by Morgan and a contingent of Knight Royal Guards. After several winding staircases, filled with the usual onlookers and crowds that a Royal Ceremony attracted, he could feel the excitement in the air as they approached the center of the Palace. The Royal guards moved ahead to clear a path through the crushing congregation that filled the foyer of the Chamber. Used primarily to receive official high ranking guests by the King, it was opulent and immaculate by design. A vaulted ceiling rose twenty meters above, supported by massive polished marble columns. And all around the room, murals covered the walls with the history of his family. Serving trays, carrying an assortment of drinks and snacks, floated in random paths among the bejeweled crowd.
“Blayne! Blayne! Over here!” he heard his mother call out over the crowd, her arm raised to catch his attention. He gave his mother a one-armed hug and kiss on the cheek in greeting. She may be overprotective and constantly drove him crazy, but she was his mother and he was a rebellious risk-taker so he couldn’t fault her. He gave a nod of acknowledgment to the gaggle of ladies that always seem to surround his mother and asked, “Any idea how long this will take?”
“Why?” Rania asked with a raised eyebrow, “You have another skyboard to crash?”
He kept a polite smile on his face but spoke through gritted teeth, “You know how much I hate these ceremonies, with all the standing around, polite small talk, and excessive ass-kissing. I have much better things to do.”
She gave him a stern, disapproving look, “As Prince, actually you do not have better things to do. Attending these activities and affairs are a requirement of your station.” She gently wagged a finger at him, “What are you going to do when you are King? How are you going to deal with these 'mind-numbing functions' as you call them, during your rule?”
“Easy, I’ll make Gunn do it. He is good with people.”
“Perhaps. But he is selective with his words,” she said with a humorous twinkle in her eye.
“No, thank you, I’d rather wash dishes for the entire Palace,” Gunn stated curtly, before elbowing Blayne in the ribs as he stepped in beside them. “Sorry, I’m late. Ma needed some help.”
“You haven’t missed anything,” Blayne said. Gunn’s parents worked in the kitchen here in the Palace. He smiled as the memory of how the two of them met sprung to mind. As young children they had run into each other as they both were trying to sneak food out of the kitchen after hours. They joined forces that night and together swiped a dozen cupcakes and a pitcher of punch. And they have been best friends ever since.
“There you are, Rania! I’ve been looking all over for you!” a whiny voice cut through the din of the crowd, interrupting Blayne’s trip down memory lane. Suppressing an urge to roll his eyes, he whispered to his mother, “And here comes Aunt Wynda. Oh, joy.”
With his arm still wrapped around her shoulder, Rania could subtly pinch Blayne in the ribs in a silent reprimand.
Turning in the direction of the annoying voice, Blayne greeted his aunt with a half-hearted formal bow. Aunt Wynda was an annoying power-hungry old biddy, but she was also his father’s sister, so it required a certain amount of formality when dealing with her. She knew it and took full advantage of her position as often as possible.
With a dismissive nod to Blayne, Wynda gave Rania a quick, cold hug before launching into her review of the occasion.
“Can you believe it? We rarely get the Aratan leader here in person!” She clapped her hands rapidly, “The after-party will be excellent! I’ve had the kitchen working around the clock for two days preparing the banquet.”
Blayne couldn’t resist and snidely commented with a raised eyebrow, “This meeting is not about parties and food. The Aratan are demanding a renegotiation of the Terms Of Protection. And I don’t think it will be in our favor, either.”
“Oh, posh! The Aratan family are old friends! We have provided food for their armies for generations! And they have protected Dunadd in return. The Terms have been tried and tested for years!”
“Exactly. Then why do they want to change them?” Blayne snapped. “We give them tonnes and tonnes of our harvest for them to provide orbital security above the planet. And now they want even more?”
Rania put her hands on each of their arms to calm them down, “Not now, let’s wait and see what they have to say, shall we?”
Blayne bent down closer to his mother’s ear and said, “I’ve heard rumors that the Aratan army has ramped up their recruitment, and taking bigger and bigger protection jobs from anyone that can pay. They are turning into guns for hire using the Kartack, their elite soldiers, as mercenaries.”
She nodded in agreement, “I’ve heard similar rumors, but let us wait and see what they have to say for themselves before we pass judgment, OK? Let’s not forget, they are as reliant on us for food as we are on them for their military.”
Blayne snagged a tumbler of scotch from a tray as it floated past, “Well, that’s what happens when you ruin your planet’s ecosystem manufacturing weapons for hundreds of years.” He pointed a finger to emphasize his point, “Why should we get shafted just because they can’t grow anything on that ecological disaster of a planet of theirs?”
As the Royal Family, they were escorted to the front of the King’s Chamber by the House Knights. Gunn, as a servant, went to the bottom of the stage. Already in front of the throne stood a stately man with a pointed crisp white beard. King Lamond Maxwell was a monarch well-liked by the people of Dunadd. The Maxwell’s have been rulers of Dunadd since the colonization over 500 years ago. Blayne's studies covered all the prior Kings and their rule, and in his opinion, none of them had been so popular with the serfs and peasants as his father. Lamond gave Blayne a curt nod as he climbed the stairs to the throne platform. Taking his position to the left of his father, Blayne already had to fight the urge to fidget. He didn’t know how his father did it, but Blayne had never mastered the regal pose and air of authority of a ruler. Whatever genetics ran through the family line that bestowed regal posture, it must have skipped his generation because he just didn’t have it, Prince or not.
A troupe blasted their horns to announce the arrival of the Aratan Party. Blayne leaned over and whispered behind the King to his mother, “Where’s Cadee?” His sister was notorious for being late. As a teenager, she didn’t yet have the responsibilities of office like he did, but she was still expected to make an appearance.
“Right here!” came a whisper from his left. Cadee, his younger sister by a year and a half, slipped into the family lineup. He gave her a quick inspection. As usual, she was immaculately dressed. As a Princess, she fully embraced the stereotype of fashionista. Her formal gown glittered with fire crystals that flashed in the mid-day sun that shone through the tall windows, with matching crystals braided into her long red hair.
He whispered out the side of his mouth, “Cutting it a little close, aren’t ya?”
“Ptt! They’re not even in the room yet, I had a good extra thirty seconds,” came her short reply, which she followed with a quick grin up at her brother. “I heard you had a little accident this morning. When are you going to learn how to land a skyboard? Do I need to show you how to do it?” she teased.
“Landing is easy, crashing with style is hard,” he said wiggling his eyebrows.
Cadee suppressed the laugh that threatened to burst out, just as the Aratan party entered the room. Led by a squad of their elite Kartack soldiers kitted out in their distinctive red and black body armor. Marching in unison, the squad clomped to the center of the room; the crowd parted to distance themselves from the heavily armed soldiers. Following behind them were the Aratan delegation, led by Director Kessen Vigil and his ever-present cloud of advisers. Blayne pursed his lips in disapproval. He always thought of advisers as leeches. His father had his own, but Blayne often thought they caused more problems than they solved.
The lessons from all of the Inter-Planetary Diplomacy classes that his teachers had forced him to sit through over the years leaped into his mind. Despite staring out the window at the clouds billowing above, dreaming of winning the Planet Skyboarding Competition, some information from the classes had stuck in his brain. Aratan was their sister planet in the Evar Solar System, but it was a separate dynasty. And unlike Aratan, Dunadd was a more traditional, independent planet monarchy common throughout the TriadVerse, with ruling families like Lords and Barons, and with serfs and peasants to work the land. When Kessen had inherited his throne, his first order had been to convert the planet of Aratan from a traditional Monarchy to a Corporate structure. Director Kessen was the same age as his father, and if the stories Blayne had heard were true, at one point the two rulers had been good friends. But over the years the stress of ruling had taken a toll on both of them, and their friendship.
Blayne was watching Kessen, so he saw when the Director flicked his gaze to the left and gave a small nod. Following his gaze, it surprised Blayne to see his Aunt Wynda bow her head in return. Standing next to Wynda was his cousin, Douglas. As much as he couldn’t stand his Aunt, Douglas was the opposite. As cousins close to the same age, they had grown up in the palace together. They had played with each other as children and broke the rules together as teenagers. Now as young men, their positions took up a lot of their time, but on the rare occasion, they would sneak out and raise hell for old time’s sake. Douglas saw Blayne looking in his direction and with a tilt of his head toward his mother rolled his eyes as a small smirk crossed his lips.
Fighting to keep his face composed, Blayne let one eyelid droop in a half wink before returning his attention to the approaching delegation.
The court announcer stepped forward and bellowed, “Please welcome the ruling Director of our esteemed sister planet Aratan, Director Kessen!”
King Lamond stepped forward, his crown shining like a halo in the bright sunlight and bowed to the Director, “The Royal Court of Dunadd recognizes the Aratan party and bids them welcome to the Palace.”
Kessen stepped in front of his guards and shook King Lamond's hand. His commanding voice boomed out over the room, “The planet Aratan is pleased and appreciative of Dunadd and the Royal Family’s gracious role as host for the negotiations. We hope we can reach a treaty to please all parties.”
King Lamond gestured to a door to their right that led off from the King’s Chamber, “Let’s convene in the meeting room and let these good people get back to their lives and not bore them with tedious treaty mediations.”
Kessen nodded in agreement and followed the King, gesturing for his crowd of advisers to follow.
The crowd in the Kings Chamber broke out into a round of applause as they watched the Royals leave the room. Inside the meeting room was a long white marble table that ran down the center of the room. Blayne suppressed a yawn as he settled into his chair to the left of the King and Queen, and across the table from the Aratan party. He crossed his hands in his lap and forced himself to adopt, or at least fake, an air of patience and tranquility. But on the inside, he fretted and fumed. This was promising to be a long, and very boring, afternoon.
Chapter 4
Director Kessen pounded a fist on the table. “If a 25% increase in food imports would be enough, I would ask for 25%. We need a 35% increase to sustain our projected armed forces growth.”
Lamond steepled his fingers in front of him and calmly replied, “If I could increase production I would, but crops only grow so fast and there is only so much farmland. At 25% I may cut into our reserves as it is. 35% is simply unreasonable.”
“If you don’t think I will withdraw my troops from your orbit over 10%, you underestimate my resolve!” barked Kessen.
“Leaving us defenseless will do nothing for your food supply. In fact, with no defenses of our own, anyone could come in and take over the planet. And I’m sure the planet’s new rulers would not give you a balanced treaty for food as we do now. If your army is growing so fast, maybe you should reassign some of your infantry to farming?” Lamond continued to smoothly rebut Kessen, knowing these boisterous bluffs were his usual negotiation tactic. Blayne, used to the constant back-and-forth bickering of treaty negotiations was fighting to keep his eyes open and his head from nodding forward in boredom. Sitting to his left, Cadee subtly kicked his shin under the table. The brief flash of pain brought him back around to see his mother stand up at the table and clap her hands.
“Why don’t we all take a break? I had some refreshments set up on the veranda outside. Maybe after some good food and fresh air we will be in a clearer state of mind and can work toward an agreement?” she suggested.
Lamond looked to Kessen to see if he was agreeable. When the Director nodded, everyone stood up from the table and filed out to the balcony area, each ruler swarmed by their advisers whispering in their ears. Cadee followed Blayne outside, stretching when she stepped into the bright sunshine.
“Oh, goodness that feels good!” she exclaimed. “If we held these boring meetings out in the sunshi
ne, everyone would be in a better mood,” she suggested.
His mother nodded, “I agree. But you know these old-fashion men, they have to have their big meeting table to pound on.”
Blayne was too busy piling a plate of food together to gripe. Gunn, assigned to work the banquet, whispered to Blayne while he arranged the dishes on the buffet table and pointed to a plate of meat pies. “Try those, my mum made them this morning. Delicious!” he said with a smack of his lips. Blayne nodded his thanks and grabbed a few pies, along with a glass of wine before he strode over to the balcony railing, away from the treaty delegations. Using the railing as a table for his plate and wine, he leaned against it and looked out over the city below. The tall graceful spires and shining skyscrapers rose from the city to stab at the sky. Beyond the outer walls were the lush green fields spread out across the valley. It really drove him crazy to live in such a beautiful place, only to be constantly crammed into boardrooms and stuffy meetings all day.
Above, Dunadd’s two moons glowed in the turquoise sky. Blayne squinted an ugly look at the smaller moon. That was where the Aratan forces based their orbital defense and operations, constantly looking down on them. Looking down himself, he could see the tops of the food stalls in the city market and a small smile crossed his lips. When he was younger, before he had met Gunn, he had sneaked away from his mother and his bodyguards. Bypassing the security on his bedroom window, he had crawled from ledge to ledge and worked his way down to the street level. The market below had been the first place he explored, since he had always been forbidden to go there. It was too dangerous, they said. For three days he had hidden outside the Palace, avoiding the search parties. But by the third day, he was starving. With no money and all alone on the streets, he realized just how much he relied on the Palace to provide for him. His life had always been one of privilege, and all the restrictions that came with it. By the time he had been caught and dragged back to his parents, he was almost ready to come home. But from that day forward, he worked on becoming more and more independent. And rebellious. He swore he would never again be reliant on someone else to provide for him again. Over the years he had continued to sneak out of the Palace, sometimes getting caught, sometimes coming back on his own terms. Living on the streets for days at a time taught him more about survival in the real world than decades locked away in the Palace could. His unauthorized excursions drove his parents absolutely crazy, but he had a feeling Sir Morgan secretly approved of them.
Freedom by Fire Page 2
