Honour or Reason - Book 1# in the Burning Prince Chronicles

Prologue

The night was terribly eerie. The Autumn winds whistled about the ramparts like the soft voice of spirits. It didn't matter that the stars were in plenty. They cast cold light upon the sentries stalking back and forth. Men with fearful faces clutched bright torches, eyes darting about worriedly. The youngest guards went as far as patrolling the castle walls in pairs should they come upon it as Barnardo and Francisco had the nights before. Their wild claims had spread throughout the Shield like smallpox and every squire, knight and palace guard feared the Night Watch. When Sir Kygore chose the men for the task, each day half the men chosen would become ill or incapacitated in some form.

Brilyn Cstorm had been surprised when the old knight approached him to put some reason into the guards' heads. He accepted, eager to see the creature that so frightened men of the Shield. He had seen the Shield fight fearsome bands of Dardria Thorn knights, battle with a savage Fire drake. Never in his wildest dreams, had he expected them to shy from a rumour of a spectre. What harm could the dead do? Besides, spirits of the dead did not roam the ramparts of a castle. Even ghosts of kings. Brilyn supposed Barnardo and Francisco had been terribly tired when they saw the 'ghost of King Maxum'. Still, he was eager to get some air upon the castle walls, and he was content to help Sir Kygore. Bri knew how thick-headed knights and sentries could be. It was one of the reasons he decided to follow the path of a scholar.

Sir Kygore was waiting at the East tower. His face was weary; dark smudges were beneath his grey eyes and his greying beard and hair exaggerated the old knight's exhaustion. Brilyn offered him a kindly smile. "It is good to see you, Sir Kygore. I pray you are faring well?"

The old man laughed. It was throaty and loud, and it shook his barrel chest viciously.

"I would fare better if my men weren't afraid of the winds."

"The Winter gales are almost upon us, Sir. Perhaps it is the cold that frightens them?"

Sir Kygore chuckled and patted Bri's shoulder. "You're a quick-witted lad. I need young men like you in the Shield."

Brilyn smiled courteously. "I am flattered, Sir, but I fear my place is among scrolls and books. I was never much use with a sword or a crossbow."

The knight sighed. "Con told me you would say that. Well, I pray you find dusty books fulfilling."

Brilyn was unsure how to answer. He was used to being criticized for his choice. Not many men turned from the sword to the quill. Not many men have wits about them. Bri cleared his throat politely. "How can I help you with this issue, Sir?"

The knight smiled. "I've got Roe, my squire, waiting up there for you. He'll lead you to two knuckleheads who claimed to have seen this spectre - Barnardo and Francisco, I wager. They'll probably try and show you this 'ghost'. The rest is up to you, my young lord."

Brilyn nodded, bid Kygore goodnight and entered the East tower. It was pitch black, save for the small candles lit upon the stone stairs. The entirety of the castle walls were crafted of enormous sandstone blocks, so unlike the smoothed sandstone of the actual castle. Bri began to ascend the spiralling staircase, heart thumping. The inside of the tower was silent, except for the soft sound of his breath and footsteps. The candles upon the stairs had only been placed there a few weeks before, as a symbol of mourning. The candles were perched upon small silver candle sticks. It reminded Bri of King Maxum's funeral.

The Isle of Maidora was notorious for the beautiful funerals they held. A King's funeral was extraordinary. Brilyn could still see it; the king's body laid in an ornate skiff, while thousands of people splashed into the sea, releasing tiny candles onto the dark waters. The candles were held above water by Maidora's Coven of Mages. They rarely performed magic on a large scale, so it had been a memorable sight. Thousands of tiny lights floated above the waves, transforming the sea into an ocean of dreams. It had been almost wonderful, until Brilyn had spotted Prince Conlaed. The sorrow upon his face had been sickening.