The Perfect Heir [ONC 2024]

Chapter Four

The crown wishes to make you its heir.

The words replayed in Bon's head like a mantra. One he couldn't get himself to forget.

The crown wishes to make you its heir.

Like Mudfell it does.
Bon rubbed at his aching temples, eyes shut with grit. He was so absorbed in the process that he didn't notice there was someone beside him until they cleared their throat to announce their presence.

Sloppy, he thought.

Bon cocked his head to see the man standing in the light of stable doors. His fine-cut coat marked him as a noble of some standing, other than that he didn't possess any remarkable features. Please be a prick so I can ignore you.

“Lord Bonevra,” the fellow said by way of greeting.

“You have me at a disadvantage, lord…”

He stretched his hand forward for a handshake. “Tallum Volburn, please. We can do without the titles.” There was something remarkable about him after all. His last name. House Volburn currently ruled the Western Marshes in the king's name as state lords. Bon recalled the place very well albeit most of his memory of the place was coloured with mud and blood.

“Couldn't agree more. I must say though you're a long way from the marshes, Tallum.”

Tallum looked over his shoulder. “I had some business in the palace and I'm currently heading to the training grounds, I was wondering if you'd like to join me.”

His first impulse was to decline but it's been a moment since he saw swordplay. “Sure, you lead the way.”

“Excellent, I'll have someone saddle our horses.”

Bon waved a dismissive hand. “No, it's fine. I'll do mine myself.”

********

The training grounds were just a few minutes from the main palace plaza. A good enough distance for stretching his legs, the horses weren't necessary but of course, he wasn't in Pom and in the capital, lords didn't go about walking when they had horses. This is going to be tough.

The place was crowded as expected. Boys old enough to begin their knight training, lordlings who pranced about with a blade resting on their shoulder, those who had a little skill battering their unskilled sparring partner and swordmasters bellowing instructions.

“It doesn't smell of sweat as much as I thought it would.”

Tallum's lips twitched with a smile. “Or they aren't training hard enough.”

“Oh don't let them hear you. He'll challenge you to duel. I may not have spent much  time with them but I encountered enough of them in the army.”

Tallum chuckled lightly. “You served then? Where?”

“The Marshes. The Western Marshes.”

Tallum's eyes narrowed at that. “It's an honour.” The words sounded like he genuinely meant them. Maybe he won't be a prick after all.