Metal and Flesh (The Rohvim, Book 1)

5

"And you will lay your hand on their heads and you shall become one, even as them of old …”

—Instructions, 1:5

The next morning, Aeden awoke with a yawn and turned to his side, seeing Priam had already left. He left the plush bed, yelping as he stepped on the armor he dropped on the floor the night before, and quickly dressed.

As he glanced towards his desk, he saw his beautiful new sword, grabbed it, and strapped the hilt to his belt so that it dangled comfortably at his side. Descending downstairs, Aeden tentatively popped his head into his father’s study and saw him hunched over his desk reading a parchment.

“Aeden, come in,” said the man, without looking up. He entered and sat on the other side of the desk from his father, who looked up from his reading. “Wonderful job yesterday. Truly wonderful. A little … dirty, there at the end, but not unfair—you won soundly.”

“Thank you, father. I trained hard for it.” Aeden murmured.

“You did indeed. You dedicated yourself, and you did it. I’m proud of you. In fact,” he paused, looking down at the paper he had been reading, “I have a contract here from Swordmaster Arino.”

“The Swordmaster? The captain of the city guard?” Aeden perked up.

“The same. I took him aside yesterday after the tournament and asked him if he would personally train you before you apply to the royal guard. After your performance yesterday he could hardly say no—he was flattered, in fact. Flattery will get you everywhere—remember that,” the man grinned at him. “Aeden, you’ve worked so hard and shown so much potential, I just thought I owed it to you to give you the best opportunity for training before …”

“Wow!” Aeden interrupted, jumping to his feet and running around the table to grab his father’s hand. He couldn’t recall a time in his life that his father had praised him so. Proud of him? “Thank you, father! Wow! You’re actually paying the Swordmaster himself to train me? How much will that cost?” he said, glancing at the parchment on the desk.

The lord brushed it aside under another parchment before Aeden could read it and replied, “Enough. We have quite enough, though we may have more in the near future. Anyway, your lessons start tomorrow morning.” He looked at the boy, “Only if you’re interested, of course.”

He whacked his father on the shoulder, then cautiously withdrew his hand, realizing he had never touched the man with such camaraderie. “Interested? Please, father. I’ll be getting up early from now on for this.”

“Truly a miracle. We should tell the priest,” came the dry reply. “Aeden, this is not just to satisfy a whim of yours. I have great plans for you. Our family, long ago, sat at the head of the kingdom. You may fear me, or hate me, or love me, I don’t know and I don’t care, but the way I have brought you up is for your own good—certainly kinder than my father was to me, the old brute. What I’m trying to tell you is … someday I may need you at my side, and I will need both a warrior and a counselor. Anyway,” he slapped the desk, “leave me in peace. Go eat your breakfast.”

Aeden bounded out, forgetting that he’d meant to ask his father a question that had been gnawing at him since the day before. And what of Lord Bleak, he’d meant to ask. Did his father have anything to do with his disappearance? But he decided against returning to his father’s study, unsure he wanted to even hear the answer, and headed instead for the dining room where the servants had left food for him, knowing he’d get out of bed eventually. He wolfed it down and left the house, wandering aimlessly through the city.