Rian sighed at it all. The colorful panoply and friendly demeanors might disguise it, but the ruthless politicking was always there, just beneath the surface.
Still, the sun was warm, the food delicious, and tomorrow, he would be making the journey he had looked forward to for so long. As images of what was to come filled his head, he couldn’t help but grin. This would be the start of many great things, he was certain.
***
The morning dawned without the sun’s light, courtesy of thick grey clouds that blotted out the sky. They rumbled in the manner of bitter, old men, grumbling and growling as a thin drizzle spilled from them.
Rian, his father and his mother stood alone in the courtyard, save for a few servants who kept to the areas under the great stone walls. The rest of the extended family had chosen to stay indoors, and with his sister unable to come due to her own responsibilities, it was essentially just the three of them. Even Soren had preferred to focus on organizing for the official farewell ceremony.
He preferred it this way. While the others were certainly valued members of House Miel, each of whom he would miss in their own way, this morning was for him and his parents alone.
His mother, Jela, in spite of the light sprinkling that had already started to mat her hair, was as unaffected by it as the walls of Houndstooth itself. Underneath the interwoven set of black braids, her steel-grey eyes suited her well, perfect for giving people hard looks. In her only concession to the rain, she wore a thick woolen dress that left nothing bare and was dyed in the forest green of House Miel’s heraldry. Strapped to her waist was her Sacrelith, a slim dagger that might have been crafted from a single shard of ice, and gleamed in spite of the lack of sunlight. As enchanted as it was, she didn’t need it - her every movement spoke of both power and the experience in using it.
In contrast, while Rian’s father, Eldrie Miel, had once been a warrior of some skill, the years had softened him and his long, dark mane of hair had begun to gain the slightest tinge of grey at the edge. The calluses of the past remained upon his hands, but even they had begun to fade and the smartly cut emerald tunic he wore was unable to hide a bit of a growing gut. However, he carried himself with strength and poise, and his eyes were still as keen as any hawk’s.
Eldrie peered down at him with a proud smile. “Look at you, a young man of House Miel going off into the world for the first time. That is always something to see… What might you find there, I wonder?” He chuckled and patted Rian on the shoulder. “Now, do not just be hiding in that academy. Sirala is quite the place to explore - I should know, I traveled there several times in my youth. Enjoy its splendors, although do be sure to keep an eye out for danger.”
“Indeed, be safe and be happy,” Jela said, her eyes having their normal sternness but mixed this time with a tinge of worry. “Just make sure not to forget the one thing the Miel family requires from its members.”
“Act in a manner befitting House Miel.” The words were easy, courtesy of long repetition.
“Indeed, and what do those words mean?”
”Do not let my actions bring shame to House Miel.”
She weighed him with her gaze but finally nodded. “Good, and much like your father, I look forward to what stories you will have to share when you return home.” Her tone grew more serious. “However, you are almost of age, and as such there will be new responsibilities you must handle, even on your journey. Not too many, of course, as we recognize that you will be occupied by other matters, but if Soren asks for you to do something, please be sure to do it. He will be speaking with our authority.”
“I will.” In spite of his words though, a shiver of concern ran through him. Would this prove a distraction?
As if reading his mind, her expression softened just a little. “Worry not. If you need assistance, Soren will be sure to provide it. Now, bow as per the traditions.”
He did so, the normal requirement of getting down on his knees suspended due to the water that soaked the ground.
She stood, the grey clouds looming overhead, yet she held her head high. “As matriarch of the Miel family, I bestow upon you my blessing. I pray that you go with fortune and plenty, that you avoid peril and cleave to safety. May your path be fruitful now and forevermore.”
”Let it be so,” he said, and although he feared his words too soft to penetrate the rain surrounding them, she nodded.
“Good, now let us make ready for the procession.”
Rian and his father looked to each other and while Jela’s noble demeanor was unaffected, the sighs of both father and son could not be concealed.
***
At least the rain had stopped, allowing the family and courtiers to come out. They were all dressed as colorfully as the day before, although perhaps a smidge more practically - the rain’s stopping did not mean the ground was any less muddy. Still, the water droplets reflecting the sun’s rays made the courtyard glitter like countless little stars.
A pedestal had been erected where his parents stood, observing with the pride and dignity typical of the Miel family, each having changed their previous attire for something far grander, as, unlike their guests, they could not sacrifice appearance for practicality. Each stood in ceremonial armor befitting the importance of the occasion, the gleaming steel so polished it was difficult to look at them from certain angles lest one be blinded by the sun.
The visitors stood off to the side, watching with interest and polite smiles, the more prestigious staying close to the pedestal but Lord Genthru was the only one save for his parents to be atop it.
His parents would be pleased with that, Rian suspected. Their liege lord’s position, standing near but not overshadowing them, was a sign that the Miel family was valued to him, a symbol of respect.
A triple line of servants stood across from where the nobles sat, a sea of blue and green with not so much as a single collar out of place.
Rian and Soren stood not too far off from the servants, unarmed and unarmored, instead wearing tailored tunics and breeches; Rian was in a jacket with the hound’s head that served as the House Miel coat of arms upon the back while Soren wore the family colors but no coat of arms.
His duty was simple yet important: complete the ceremony as they had rehearsed. Easy enough, but he didn’t dare mess up. Failure would mean humiliation, humiliation leading to apparent weakness and that leading to real danger. His body ached, the ceremonial jacket itched terribly and beads of sweat dripped down between his shoulder blades in the humid summer air, but he remained still. It won’t be much longer.
Behind them stood a carriage of the finest cedar. Engraved with symbols of one of the branch families on each side and furnished to be comfortable for easily triple the small group that would be making the journey, it promised to carry him away as soon as everything was done.
Whisperings and mutterings, the normal part of any ceremony, filled the courtyard until Countess Jela raised her hand. At the regal look that swept the sodden field, the voices all fell silent.
“The time has arrived. My son Rian, Chancellor Soren, step forth.”
As protocol demanded, each made their way before the pedestal, bowing before the matriarch of the family. Soren bowed deeply while Rian was careful to make his bow a little shallower - Soren had been quite insistent in that, saying that while in practical terms, his mother was equally above both him and Soren in the family hierarchy, as her son, Rian’s bowing too low would imply that their child was a person of little import, thus implying that the family was not of much import either.
The air was still, the crowd surrounding them all not daring to utter so much as a single word.
“Today is a most blessed day.” Jela’s voice was strong and firm as it echoed through the courtyard. “My son Rian, the second-in-line to the main branch of House Miel, will begin an important journey. He will gain strength and knowledge, empowering the family as a whole as his ancestor Arnla did before him. For the talent this demonstrates and the work befi
tting of his bloodline, we honor him.”
The other nobles murmured words of approval, a low buzzing. Rian closed his eyes, trying not to think of how hard it was to maintain his posture.
“When he returns, it will be to the glory of the Miel.”
“To the glory of the Miel,” came the rumble from all.
With the appropriate words said, Rian and Soren stood straight, but the ceremony was not yet done, as the various nobles came to them, each with their own well-wishes.
Many offered generic words of good fortune, polite but distant, to which he was careful to respond in the appropriate manner for each - another matter Soren had drilled him in, as treating an ally poorly or a weak house too kindly could easily offend.
A few were more notable: Uncle Garian gave him a firm hug and whispered, ‘don’t forget to enjoy yourself’, Scrylla smiled at him to his embarrassed recollections of the talk he and Soren had exchanged yesterday, but it was at Lord Genthru’s approach that he swallowed, him and Soren inclining their heads.
The nobles around them parted to give their liege room but Genthru seemed not to notice, looking down at him over a thin little nose. He was perhaps half a head taller than Rian, but the smoothness of his cheeks showed that only a few years difference laid between them.
The young lord stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I suppose you see today as an opportunity for you, the chance to prove yourself.”
“I can only hope that fortune favors me,” Rian said, trying to inject every note of submissiveness and humility into his words as he could. Offending his family’s liege lord… that would be something beyond horror.
“Good fortune?” Genthru snorted, causing his throat to tighten in fear he had angered the man. “Success is not about hope. It is about everything you have done and will do. Your success depends on that, not some roll of the dice.”
“Yes sir,” he said, only barely able to keep from stuttering. “I have prepared thoroughly for this day.”
“Hmm…” Genthru searched his face for a long moment. He seemed to find what he was looking for as that hard expression softened, if just a little, “Then I look forward to seeing what honor you bring your family.”
Rian didn’t dare breathe a sigh of relief, but he felt it all the same.
By the time those remaining had all had their say, the courtyard sundial said two hours had passed. The crowd had thinned, nobles making their way in ones and twos back inside now that they had paid their proper respects. The only ones remaining were either kin to House Miel, friends to them or those who wished to appear friendly to them.
As the door to the carriage shut behind him with a gentle thud, he peered longingly at the seats, his legs aching for the cushioning after all the time spent on his feet. It was time to leave, after all.
Soren’s gaze followed Rian’s and he gave a slight shake of the head. “Not yet. We’re almost finished. Now for the ‘adoring subjects’.”
Indeed, the servants who had come waved and cheered as he left, tossing prepared bouquets and clapping, all wishing him farewell as the carriage began to move. Their faces all had wide, beatific smiles pasted on them.
In turn, he and Soren waved out the window, careful not to let themselves so much as sway with the carriage’s movements. By this point, his smile felt frozen, a mask grafted upon his face.
As they passed through the gate and turned the corner, each man collapsed into the seat beside them and Soren let out a tired chuckle. “Do not worry. It is not so bad once you get used to it.”
Rian didn’t say anything, instead rubbing his sore knees. The bit of theater was done at least. Now to travel to Sirala, where his dreams awaited.
Chapter Two
The academy was an incredible, almost ethereal structure. Sleek spires rose perfectly straight past even the tallest buildings around it to grasp at the clouds above. Crafted of mirror-bright marble, it reflected the sun’s rays in such a way as to send an aurora of silvery light cascading across the streets surrounding it, while high windows adorned it as jewels did a necklace.
The Royal Academy of Mages lit up Sirala like a candle’s flame.
It lit Rian’s mind aflame, also. The spires caught his eye, the windows his imagination. Unbidden, he licked his lips. What secrets and mysteries laid within those halls? He had heard stories of the academy, of course, but it had seemed almost a dream sometimes to imagine that he might be here, standing before a golden gate as thin and graceful as a maiden’s tresses, waiting to enter the courtyard beyond.
Sometimes the thought had seemed no more real than a young man’s idle fantasies. When he made his way through the cramped avenues and muddy streets of Sirala, careful to watch his money-pouch for thieves, he had wondered if perhaps he had expected too much, that the legends outstripped the reality.
Stood before it now, his heart beat frantically, confirming every dream and rumor. The dingy city around the academy had been merely a shell, and the shining citadel in front of him was the truth. The weight of centuries of tradition and magic were within his grasp and -
A spear slammed into the ground, the force behind it enough to make the gleaming gates rattle.
They lay open, but they were not unguarded. A meaty giant of a man stood there, with eyes like black beetles and a long red cloak. It signaled his position as one of the king’s soldiers. The man looked out over those before him as though their very presence offended him.
“Right then,” he slammed the butt of his spear down once more, “which one of you ugly sods is next?”
Rian was far from the only one there. In addition to Soren accompanying him, three-dozen men, women and children stood waiting to be allowed into the Royal Academy.
A woman stepped forth; her black hair flowed down past her shoulders but the crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes speaking of oncoming twilight years. Clutched to her side was a trembling boy of perhaps seven summers. Each of them wore clothing that could charitably be called threadbare.
The guard looked the woman up and down and sneered through his thick, dark beard. “Spread your arms,” he barked. “The king’s decree says each is to be searched. No knives or weapons allowed.”
When the woman raised her arms, the guard strode forward, patting her down. The crowd watched on, nervously chattering to themselves. The woman bore it without complaint, even as the man’s hands roved over her body. Her eyes were closed, almost hidden under her long mop of dark hair, until one finger passed too close, brushing up her thigh.
She flinched but dared not complain. “P-please, may I pass?”
“Not done yet. Give me a minute.” As if to taunt her for speaking, he brought his hands higher, trailing across her stomach and even over her breasts at one point. The woman flinched, the child standing, confused and afraid.
Finally, he finished. Ignoring the boy, he gave the woman a satisfied smirk as she shrank back, wrapping her arms around herself. “Aye, you can go through.”
She vanished inside with a speed that only just maintained propriety, clutching her child close to her and refusing to meet the eyes of any others in the courtyard or beyond.
Rian clenched his hand into a fist. “Did you see that, Soren? Such despicable actions.”
“He could have done worse, I’m afraid,” Soren grimaced, shaking his head. “I saw the Crimson Order strip a man once. Things were different under King Iruel.”
“That they can do such things is horrid in itself. Wearing the king’s cloak should not make them beyond answer.”
Soren didn’t respond, instead withdrawing a scroll from the pocket of his breeches and beginning to read it with an indistinct muttering.
He narrowed his eyes at Soren’s turning away but sighed. He couldn’t blame him for not wanting to discuss the matter - he didn’t want to think of it himself. Besides, Soren was the family’s chancellor and had far greater duties than just keeping an eye on a young lord stepping out into the world. He could have stayed in their castle but he’d come t
o both teach Rian and make sure he was safe, while still performing what duties he could manage so far from the castle.
The next man in line was searched and allowed into the academy, and as he left, the guard turned his eyes on Rian and slammed the butt of his spear down once more. The message was clear.
Rian maintained proper decorum when he strode forward, but his spine was rigid as he stood before the vile man. He met the guard’s gaze with a confidence that belied the difference in their height.
The guard looked him up and down, more amused by said confidence than intimidated. Neither the fine clothes nor chancellor beside him gave the man pause. “What have we got here, a little lordling fresh from his mother’s teat? What’s got you out of your moldy castle?”
“My business is my own,” Rian replied, meeting the man’s beady eyes. “I have no need to answer to someone like you.”
“Ahh, the lordlings got a mouth to him,” the guard sang out mockingly.
“I have far more than a mouth to -“
The man surged forward, grabbed him by the collar and dragged him close. “Now listen good, brat,” he growled, all levity vanishing. “See this here cloak on my back, all red and shiny? This gives me the king’s authority. So either you answer my question or we see if a day in the stocks loosens that noble tongue of yours, aye?”
He choked in the man’s grip, eyes bulging out both in outrage and shock that he would go so far. The man’s breath, foul and smelling faintly of ale, washed across his face, forcing him to scrunch up his nose. He is a beast, Rian realized. True scum. The way he had treated the woman proved as such and now this. He wanted little more than to challenge him and stand firm against his cruelties.
The Mage Trials Page 2
