The walk did not take long, despite the Grand Hall being on the opposite side of the keep. Narris struggled to keep up with the guardsman, Sir Yareck, who spoke sparingly the entire way—though Narris would not complain. They arrived to an already bustling hall, filled with what appeared to be half of the kingdom. Narris asked one of the servants how many heads the Grand Hall could endure, and a response of over six hundred seemed almost inconceivable. It is true that Panthos had great dining halls, but extravagance was looked at as impure and obtuse. Everything was done with a purpose and within reason in Panthos—at least compared to the northern country.
Sir Yareck put him in a chair at the top of the dais, directly beside two empty chairs that could only have been for the King and his future wife. Everywhere Narris looked he gained curious glances and suspicious stares. These northerners do not wish me here, he thought. He scanned the room and did not immediately spy Barost, but he finally spotted the large captain seated at the bottom of the dais near the eastern wall, already enjoying a flagon of mead and deep in conversation with a man that Narris did not recognize.
“It is a gracious sight.” Narris turned to the voice behind him and rose as King Maras moved into his seat. The entire room had quieted upon his entrance, all patiently waiting for the King to take the first drink.
“Your Grace,” Narris said with a slight bow.
King Maras waved a hand at him. “Sit, sit, my lord of the Uthari.” With a radiant smile, King Maras scooped up his jewel studded goblet and raised it high above his head. “Lords and Ladies of the Vint, welcome these noble Uthari warriors.” The King motioned for Narris to rise. “May the Vint and Panthos be one for all time!” The toast was met with a mixture of applause and utter silence, proving the controversy of the potential union between the two nations. Indifferent to his countrymen’s reaction, the King sat in his chair and leaned over to Narris. “I was thinking on all that business from earlier and, I must say, you were right. Our laws differ for a reason, and I was wrong to think otherwise. Regardless, I have sent the knight, Sir Veran, away on a dubious task as a form of punishment. I hope you will not think less of me as a king, or a man, based on what you have seen today. Justice is not a game and I should not have treated it as such.” The King watched Narris’ face for any movement and then loosed a large smile when Narris nodded in agreement. “There is much we can learn from each other I think. Yes. Servants! Wine and mead, let the feast begin!” Finally, the King took a long pull from his goblet, opening the feast.
Music lit up from the right of the dais, and the entire room erupted with cheers and applause. Narris lifted his glass and took a long pull of wine. He hated celebrations. Pointless jabbering and a waste of good food was all he witnessed, that and an elaborate show of dancing and other forms of movement on the floor by those less talented in the art. However, the night went surprisingly well by all accounts. Narris spoke when necessary and, more importantly, he listened whenever the opportunity arose. Wine and mead loosened moods as well as lips; one had to but open their ears and hear them.
After he was confident that nearly everyone in the hall was piss-drunk and care-free, he stepped off the dais and went over to Barost. The large man was still sitting in the same spot, though his attention had shifted to a maiden who was as fair as she was young. To everyone else in the hall, the Panthosi Captain looked good and drunk, but Narris new better. Barost spotted the nod from Narris, and downed the rest of his drink.
“Walk with me,” he said to the large man.
Barost nodded and turned to the young maiden seated next to him. “Apologies, my dear, but I must take my leave.” He rose gracefully for a man of his size and matched steps with Narris.
“How are the men?” He spoke quietly to the big man, hoping that their conversation would be drowned out by the boisterous hall.
“Privy to the on goings of this shabby kingdom.” Barost glanced around casually as they walked through the room. “This hall has ears, my lord.”
Narris nodded gravely. “Here is as good a place as any. The whispers carry less when shrouded by music and laughter.” He looked up to the dais. The King was busy swallowing a barrel of mead and wooing a serving girl that could not have been more than fifteen. “Do we have enough to present to my sister?”
“Sadly, we do. It would seem that the King intends to use a marriage with our great lady to strengthen his hold on the continent. After which, he plans on being completely unaware of a grievous accident befalling her, thus opening the realm to his rule.”
Narris contemplated this for a long moment. His eyes scanned the room intently. It was almost worth it to him to storm across the room and slit the King’s throat himself. But, doing so would guarantee war with the Vint. He could not bear laying the blood of his people at the feet of the Moon Gods. “What proof do we possess?”
“Letters, witnessed accounts, various overhearing’s from our men, but,best of all, we managed to slip a man into one of the King’s council meetings.”
He stopped and looked at Barost inquiringly. “The King’s private council meeting that consists of his most trusted advisors. How did we manage to slip a man into such a gathering?”
“Varo hid in the room before the meeting started. He heard everything.”
Narris nodded his approval. “Slippery bastard. I will expect a full update after you break your fast. We must be wary, Barost. I fear this place is more treacherous than it appears.” They exchanged a knowing nod. “Go see that the men are behaving honorably. I will see you on the morrow.”
Barost lowered his head slightly and walked briskly out of the noisy hall. When Narris returned to his seat he was greeted by a drunker King than he had left. “My lord of Panthos, pray you sit and talk. We have many a things to discuss. I have heard tales of your sister. They say that the sea parts for her as not to dry out her supple skin.” The King smiled mischievously at his comment. “I am sure that you are excited about my trip to Panthos in acceptance of your great Queen’s invitation.” When Narris did not answer him, he continued on, coolly changing the subject. “I pray you will enjoy our tournament, and, perhaps, even grace us with a show of those fabled Uthari fighting skills.” A large, blubbery grin snaked across the King’s face.
Narris only smiled. “I am honored at your request, but I fear I am not permitted to engage in combat while visiting your great kingdom.”
The King dismissed his reply. “Nonsense, the swords are blunted and you would be well armored. I understand your hesitation about joining the joust. I have heard how sloshy you southerners can be with a horse and lance.” The King allowed a gracious cackle at his jest before he continued. “But I am rather intrigued to see how well you do in melee combat. After all, the Uthari are fabled for their skill with the short sword.”
No doubt, but you also want to weigh what threat we pose to you, Narris thought. “Perhaps I could take the night to think on it, sire.”
“Of course, of course. I would not be surprised to hear your decline, though, for it is known that the Vint houses the fiercest and most cunning warriors in the realm.” The King shot him a wicked smile, “so I will understand if you are not up to the challenge.” He rose and drowned the last of the wine from his chalice. “I will hear your answer in the morning, my lord of the Uthari. I pray you sleep well.”
Narris was not the type of man to take blatant disrespect lightly, but in these walls he was a guest, and his sister had been adamant about remaining civilized throughout his visit to the north. Sometimes, he wondered if she was strong enough to rule Panthos. The rights of succession are different there than in the northern kingdom. Women are looked at equally in the royal bloodlines, and his sister was two years his senior. It was hard for those noble northerners to understand how any woman could overcast a man in the rules of succession, but in Panthos, there were more important things than gender. Even the Uthari, which was primarily male, had women tossed into its ranks. There was nothing that said that a woman could not fight as well as a man. But still, Narris could not help but think that his sister was more interested in peace than in ruling the empire.
So, despite his first instinct to draw his blade and remove the King’s head, he only nodded and drained the rest of his mead. This trip was going to be long and trying, and he could only sit and watch as his people were slighted by these supercilious northerners.
The morning of the tournament came quicker than he expected. He walked through the courtyard that lay between the main keep and the back houses with Barost at his side, along with another Uthari named Liras—his son and third in command.
“You told him you would compete?” Barost was surprised. “I didn’t expect you to fall to the King’s jests.”
“It is past time that they knew what their enemy was capable of, but I never said I would be the one competing.” He looked over at Liras.
“But the King asked you. Surely it will insult him if you emplace another, regardless of his skills.”
Liras walked with his hands behind his back and his face blank as stone. He rarely spoke, and was thought of by many in the Uthari to be the most deadly of the fighters. Narris planned on tossing him into the melee to show these northern dogs what Panthosi blood was really made of.
“I could care less if I hurt the man’s pride.” He turned to Liras once more. “Let their swords sniff only air.” The silent boy nodded and walked off without a word.
“And if our man is injured in this melee? Or worse, knocked out early?”
“Then perhaps we are right to go about peace in such ways, and it will be known that my sister is a brilliant woman.” The courtyard was bustling with servants and squires setting the field for the joust that was to be the first event. The melee would follow on the morrow and Narris had his blacksmith blunting two sabres for Liras to use. “The documents and witnesses are safe, I gather?”
The large man nodded. “Tucked away safely and awaiting our return trip. The Queen will know, and once she does she cannot possibly go through with this arrangement.”
“I hope that is true,” Narris said, concern ripe on his voice.
The rest of the day went by rather quickly. Narris had seen jousting before, but it was not well practiced in Panthos. Still, it was interesting to watch these men, clad in steel and holding twelve foot long poles, crash into each other at full gallop. By the end of the day most of the knights had been eliminated. Of the six men that remained, Narris recognized only one. He was a tall, slender young man of one of the great houses north of the wall. Sir Ian Destros, his namesake, had introduced himself at the feast, and Narris had to say that his chivalry and honor seemed on par with his skills with a lance. The young man was comely and seemed to be well liked. He had asked around about the young knight and learned that he was excellent on a horse, but with a sword in his hand, he was an even more menacing adversary. The odd thing was that he was barely in his eighteenth year, and already his lance struck as if the Moon Gods were behind every thrust. Narris was interested to see how this young knight would fare against his own blood, Liras.
The tournament resumed the next day and the crowd had almost doubled. News had got out that one of the Uthari would be competing in the melee later in the day, no doubt. Narris knew the rules of these melees. There were two different types. In one, the entire field was filled with every warrior wishing to compete and, once the horn was sounded, it was every man for himself. Most started on horse and the winner was the last man standing. However, King Maras liked to throw in surprises, so at the last minute, he changed the melee to its sister form, which deemed that every warrior would be afoot. Though allegiances were prohibited, Narris guessed that Liras would have more men after him than any other warrior on the field.
It might almost be challenging for Liras, Narris thought. Narris had watched him grow into a fierce warrior, with tenacity matched only by his discipline. It was known by few that Liras was his natural child, as Narris had never taken a wife, but most of the Uthari knew. Life for bastard children in Panthos was exceedingly different than that of those in the northern kingdom, but he still would have been out of place in court, with only half legitimate blood and no claim to the throne. So, Liras joined the Uthari just as his father had, and Narris witnessed him become the deadliest warrior in the ranks.
The finals of jousting finished quickly with the young Sir Ian ultimately losing two lances to one against the older, and more experienced, Sir Fenley Harres. He had heard some nearby lords speaking about how Sir Fenley had yet to be unhorsed, and how the joust was far superior a sport than the melee, but Narris quickly dismissed their conversation and shifted his attention to the field where knights and fighting men alike were gathering for the melee event. The King stood proudly and raised his voice so all could hear.
“My strong and faithful warriors, it honors me to have you all gathered here today before this great kingdom. You are all aware of the rules of this melee and I wish you the best of luck. The winner will be crowned Tournament Champion and take home a purse of twenty thousand gold pieces, as well as receiving a most gracious prize to show the appreciation of the Vint.” The men in the field cheered. “Let it begin!” The King finally bellowed, and the field erupted with yells and taunts, followed by the clanging of blunted swords and fists of armor.
Narris spotted Liras almost immediately. It was hard to miss him, for he was the only man on the field not clad in full armor. He stuck to the Uthari custom and wore a simple leather jerkin and leather vambraces with woolen trousers and a studded belt. Both of his hands held the curved sabres notorious of the order. He wielded them as if they were a part of his body. His movements were faster than a blink. He struck with flawless precision. Already three knights had approached him, and all three had ended up on their backs yelling to yield.
The field was thinning quickly as the experienced men set themselves apart from the less battle hardened. There were about twenty men left, and most of the combat had moved to one on one with the prevailing fighter moving on to the next. Narris spied a few familiar faces, including the young Sir Ian, as well as Sir Fenley, and a few of the King’s knights that had been at his side when Narris entered the city. Liras was still up and had yet to even catch the wind of another’s blade.
“Your man in there fights well. But I must say, I wish I could have seen the great Lord of the Uthari himself trade steel with the knights of the Vint.” The King had moved and sat next to him. “It is said that you are even more deadly than the young man you had fight in your stead.”
Narris hated flattery. “Were I in my younger days, maybe your claim would be true, but there is no warrior that matches the young Liras, I am afraid.”
The King smiled. “I have noticed that his fighting style is not all that he got from you. You know what they say of bastards here in the Vint?”
“Panthos is not the Vint,” Narris warned.
“No doubt, but it speaks wonders to your peoples value of hierarchy. Tell me, Narris, who exactly is next in line to the Moon Throne. The Panthosi lines of succession have always baffled me.”
Narris tried to remain polite. “It is Panthosi custom for siblings not in immediate succession to withdraw their rights to the throne. I joined the Uthari when I was ten and gave up any aspirations to the throne. My sister was wed, as you are no doubt aware, but is widowed. She does however have a daughter, Mira, who is now next in line to the throne. Our system is much like your own, the only difference being that women are included in the lines.”
The King was seemingly unaware of the Panthosi way, though Narris guessed it was purely superficial. A man like King Maras does not meet with someone without knowing everything about them. “You are a brave lot to put your trust in women,” he said with a chuckle.
Their attention was drawn back to the field when they heard a roar from the crowd. Liras was trading swords with what they called a crow knight named Braise Filman, but the crowd was focused on the young Sir Ian who had just dropped a knight that towered at least a foot over him, and still had enough time to take a gracious bow before being engaged by a knight closer to his stature wearing bright blue armor that seemed to glisten in the afternoon sun.
“That would be the Sea Serpent himself, Lord Racyn Pyre of Marwyn. That man shits himself a son every year it seems. He has somewhere around fifteen now and he has only seen thirty eight name days.” The King shook his head in amusement. “The Lord of Bastards some call him. He knows his way around a sword fight though, that is for certain.”
The young knight and Lord Racyn took turns trading blows, and it was quick to see that the lord was running near fatigue. His strikes were slower and weaker than his younger counterpart, and his feet seemed to move just slightly less with each step. Narris watched on as Sir Ian advanced the attack with solid overhand blows. During one swing, the young knight lost his footing on the sodden grass and caught himself with his offhand, but the lost time granted Lord Racyn just long enough to prepare his own attack. The Sea Serpent came at the young knight with everything he had. Sir Ian checked a blow to his side and ducked the next, but in doing so left his face open and Lord Racyn smashed a mailed fist into his helm, sending it flying off into the dirt.
Blood trickled down from Sir Ian’s busted lip, and he spit out a tooth. Helmless, he swung his sword wildly at the lord’s midsection and then whipped it around, catching the blue armor flush on his shoulder and glancing off onto his helm. The blow swayed Lord Racyn and he stumbled to his left. Seeing his chance, the young knight closed in to finish the dazed lord. He took a strong step to his left and crossed the lord with his sword. He struck the man’s chest before spinning and dashing him across the back with the blunted blade.
Lord Racyn fell to his knees and raised his sword in submission. The field had thinned to just three fighters. Sir Ian, Liras, and a knight dressed in rust stained armor with visibly soiled wool padding underneath. Narris looked up at the King inquisitively.
“He is no knight, just some mercenary out to win a fat purse. His name escapes me at the moment.”
It was the moment Narris had been waiting for. The young knight and the mercenary glanced at each other quickly, their intentions clear. They turned to Liras and began to step around him cautiously. They both were equipped with a longsword against Liras and his two curved sabres. Liras eyed them closely as they moved into position, both hands down at his sides. The mercenary moved first, but Sir Ian was not far behind. Liras waited until the last second to finally roll to his left with one sword in front of him and the other tucked across his back. The mercenary’s longsword glanced off of his back and bit the dirt as Liras spun up and quickly landed a backhanded slash across the man’s face and stepped with a strong kick to Sir Ian’s chest.
Narris could not help but release the beginnings of a smile. “The mercenary will be going home empty handed this day, I am afraid.”
The King passed a weak smile and watched the rest of the fighting with a frown. The young knight went sprawling from the kick and the mercenary fell to his knees. Liras popped the mercenary once on the back of the skull and sent him to sniff the dirt. He then moved to within a step of Sir Ian before allowing the knight a chance to regain himself. The young knight barely got a sword up to check the first swing, but no footing and no leverage to maneuver his longsword one handed proved to be the end of him. Liras kicked up a cloud of dust and found purchase with one of the sabres on the knights left side. He dodged a wild up thrust from Sir Ian and then stomped his hand to the ground, sending the sword bouncing across the dirt with a scream of pain. The crowd went silent as they watched their two combatants lie helplessly in the dirt.
Liras sheathed his sabres behind his back and walked slowly to the platform of the King. His face was painted in stone and he seemed to be far from short of breath. The King rose reluctantly and held out his arms.
“It looks as though we have our champion! A man of the sacred and deadly Uthari guard has bested this entire field of civilized knights and thus won the purse and honor of this great tournament!”
A young squire ran out to Liras with a long bundle of wool and handed it to him with a bow. “It is my great honor to present him with this trophy. May he wield it with the strength and power worthy of a Sword of the Isles!”
Half of the crowd cheered and the other half sat in silent dismay as Liras unwrapped the wool around the longsword and looked it over, though it was unclear whether he liked the trophy or was unsure of what to do with it, for his face was blank as always. After a moment he looked up and gave the King a slight bow before moving off of the field without a word.
Narris rose and nodded to the King. “Your Grace,” he said before taking his leave. It took him only a moment to match steps with Liras. The boy looked as though he was ready to fight fifty more knights clad in steel armor.
“My lord,” Liras said with a slight nod.
Narris returned it. “You fought well today. The purse will buy you the finest armor and blades in the land, no doubt.”
Liras only shrugged. “I am as my duty requires, and the coin belongs to the Uthari.”
“Of course.” Narris always struggled when talking to the boy, but there was never a question of his propriety. He was his most trustworthy captain, and social aptitude meant for naught when faced with a host of enemies. They had made their way off of the field and back into the halls of the great castle. “Prepare your things. You and half of the men will ride on the morrow with written accounts and any other evidence we possess about King Maras’ true intentions.”
Liras nodded again. “And you?”
“I will wrap up the rest of the festivities as expected, and leave with the remaining men in three days. Barost will ride with me. You have command.”
The storm grey eyes of Liras twitched momentarily, but no emotion breached his face. “As you wish, my lord,” he said as he handed Narris the large sword.
“This great sword is your trophy,” Narris stated.
“I have no use of such a blade, Steel of the Isles or not.”
Narris smiled at the young warrior. “I will keep it safe for you. Perhaps one day you will decide that you want to lose at a fight and train with these crow knights of the north.”
The humor was lost on Liras, not that Narris was surprised. He nodded and turned, headed for the lower stacks of the barracks. Narris made his way in the opposite direction back to the King’s solar to prepare the note to accompany his young captain on the long road back to the Queen. It would be an easy letter to write, lies usually were.
Barost was waiting in the solar when Narris arrived. Even a man of his stature looked small standing next to the great fire pit in the wall. It was lined with ebony, laced with gold and ornate jewels of all types. The large Uthari had started a fire and was warming his hands near the orange glow coming from the pit.
“Our champion departs on the morrow, will you see him off?”
Narris looked at the man for a long moment and then began loosening some of his garb as he moved into the room. “Gestures of grandeur are lost upon Liras. He is a warrior tried and true. There is not a civil bone about him. What makes you think he would welcome any of us to send him off?”
Barost only shrugged in agreement. “He is a strong man that one. No doubt he learned from the best.”
“Why are you here?” Narris shot the captain a questioning look.
“With Liras leaving we are short half of our guard—the better half might I add. The King’s solar is fifteen rooms that could sleep two hundred men. Move the remainder of your guard here. The snake pit is better faced with friends.”
Would that I could, Narris thought. “We are not in the King’s favor, Barost, or have you not noticed. I would guess that one of the faithful crow knights would have wielded a veritable blade meant only for me, had I participated in the games.”
“Then it was wise for you to withdraw.”
“I did not withdraw to avoid death! I was not sent north with the Queen’s own blessing to trade tourney swords and dine with this oaf of a king!” Narris could feel the rage mounting, rage that he had been holding down since he had stepped foot in this god awful kingdom. “I was sent here for a purpose, Barost. I am the Commander of the Uthari, and thus am the soul held responsible for its fall, if the worst were to come. The King has plans, no doubt, but I serve only the Queen.”
Barost nodded solemnly. “I meant no offense, my lord.” The big man shifted his weight uncomfortably. “I pray you pack and make leave for Lilanth at once; with all the men our host will be much safer for the long road.”
“That is one thing that I cannot do,” Narris said with a shake of his head. “Packing up and moving home without the King’s blessing could end the deal our Queen so desires. No, I will present her all the facts and leave it to her to decide.”
“If the King were to discover our inklings… my lord, we would be better served to leave this place, sooner rather than later.” A twinge of anxiety was present on the large captain’s voice.
Narris looked at the large man with stern eyes. “We leave in three days. Keep the men indoors until that time.” His words were not meant to be questioned.
Barost only nodded once more and sauntered out of the large solar. If only my sister knew, she would never have agreed to this meeting, but then, that is why she sent me, Narris thought. Narris knew the situation was grave, but there was naught that he could do but his duty, and right now his duty was to please this northern King.
Hey everyone, thank you so much for stopping by and checking out the story. I will be posting a new chapter every Tuesday and Friday until the entire novel is on Wattpad. However, I would like to let everyone know that The Lost Prince is on Amazon. I am giving the book away for free on here, but if you loved the novel and feel like purchasing a copy, or gifting it to someone else, I cannot express how honored I would be.