Our swords clashed back and forth, in a loud and continuing unison. I carried on as best as I could, but I was quickly tiring, and Gideon was well aware of it. Sweat dripped down my forehead as I ducked a swipe directed toward my head. I slashed at his feet, but he jumped, dodging my blow and pulling his sword across my hand. The blow was so hard the heavy glove I was wearing on that hand sliced cleanly down the middle.
Finally, in a match of back-and-forth hitting, he outwitted me, blowing the sword out of my hand, and putting his blade to my throat.
I shook my head as we shook hands afterward.
“I don’t think I’ll ever beat you,” I said. Gideon handed me my sword, glancing at the wound on my hand.
“I hope it’s not deep?” He inquired.
“No sir, I don’t think it cut through the glove,” I replied without looking at it. He frowned, but nodded.
“You may not have beaten me, but you’re improving rapidly every day. You could beat most of the knights in the Palace with skills such as yours,” Gideon said.
“Do you really think so, sir?”
“Yes, I do. That is why you need to continue progressing as you have been. But remember, when I compare you to the knights of the Palace, don’t do that yourself. You’ll get nowhere comparing yourself to others higher than your status. Look only at what you’ve gained, and what more you could gain in talent and skill. Pursue it, until you have what you’re seeking.”
“Great speech,” I said, rolling my eyes. “But this is only sword fighting, you know. It’s not like I’m getting married or anything.” He narrowed his eyes, and I added, “Or… am I?” He raised his eyebrows, and I again added, “Tell me that then, and any other speeches you want.”
“I’m serious, Lewis. Keep in pursuit that which is worthy of it.”
I nodded. “Alright, alright. But you could’ve said that from the beginning and I would’ve understood you a whole lot better,” I added, smirking.
Gideon was always deeply serious in manners such as this — and I didn’t care much for it; neither the swordsmanship nor the lectures. It was occasionally fun to be in combat against my teacher, but I enjoyed it less than I should’ve.
I came into the house, a smaller manor (much larger and richer than a common house, but almost nothing in comparison to other manors), but decorative and richly furnished. Some objects seemed even to come from a rich man, and perhaps that was what Makaroth was when he was a younger man. But why then the odd-sized manor?
Makaroth was my guardian, perhaps my father, but I never knew. He had never explained, always looking away, squinting at the sun, or walking off whenever I mentioned my father. Therefore I knew he wasn’t my father because of his response, but if he wasn’t, who were my parents? I could’ve easily been adopted, but why then his strange reaction? It didn’t add up, and that was something I didn’t pursue fervently because I knew that if that was his reaction to what happened to them, then mine would probably be much worse.
Dinner was cooked, and the smell wafted out as if a wave to capture me. And it did: I ran into the house with such vigor, that I crashed into one of the newly hired servants. He was older than I, perhaps in his mid-twenties.
He was carrying a set of plates, and they crashed to the ground, shattering.
“I’m so sorry!” I said, helping him clean them up. He frowned at me, and I smiled a fake smile. Suddenly he looked at me oddly.
“Are you . . . are you . . .” He stuttered.
“Excuse me?”
“Nevermind. Go to dinner, I can clean this up.” I nodded but helped him clean them up anyway.
He ducked away after we were finished, and I rushed off to dinner, making sure not to crash into any other servants. I sat down at the foot of the table, and Sir Makaroth at the head. The dining room and the table were so long and large. I wondered why he had it so when we hardly had any guests.
But tonight, a man sat beside Makaroth.
“Come, join us here, Lewis.” I did as Makaroth commanded, sitting on the other side of him, opposite to the stranger. “Lewis, this is Lord Norrix. He is one of the regents from the Palace.” I nodded deeply, and he returned, although more curtly and much too formally.
“Good evening,” His deep voice boomed. I echoed the same, except a bit higher pitched, which made me feel a little inadequately out of place. Suddenly he eyed me suspiciously, then said, “My goodness, Makaroth, he looks just like —”
“Ah — this . . . this meat is cold! And . . . salty! So, so salty! Cook! Come this instant,” The food that was originally on the table was immediately replaced.
Norrix looked at Makaroth oddly but got the hint and remained silent. I arched an eyebrow, wondering what this was all about. Ostensibly, I was not to be included in their conversation.
After we had finished eating, I excused myself off to the walking grounds.
“Now, Sir Makaroth. To business.” I heard Norrix mutter as I walked out.
Of course, I wasn’t off to the walking grounds. I laughed to myself as I thought that Makaroth believed I would do so. Or perhaps he knew I wouldn’t.
Norrix seemed to be here looking for nothing in particular. And it seemed odd that he would come now, never having visited once before.
I held my breath, watching Makaroth and Norrix. They were so deep in conversation that they didn’t even notice any little sounds I might’ve made. I listened to their broken conversation, which went something like this:
“He’s old enough now to do anything he likes.” Norrix stated. At first, I thought they were talking of me, but it was not so, as they continued:
“No! That is certainly not valid! The regents would allow such a thing as that?”
“It certainly is valid. He commands them more than you would think. You’re not in the palace anymore, Makaroth. Things are different now.” Makaroth? In the royal palace? I didn’t remember him ever going there, and I always remembered being with him.
“That is disturbing, indeed. What is he like? Is he horribly bad?” Makaroth asked hastily.
“No, no. He is . . . strange, not so bad. He keeps to himself, but when in a meeting is extremely interested in what the regents have to say. He is also very commanding, having things usually go his way.”
“Does he know about Kyden?”
“No, not that I know of.” Norrix replied.
“Well, thank goodness for that! Who knows what he would do? From what you told me it sounds like he would not handle it well.” Makaroth said.
Norrix chuckled.“No, he wouldn’t.”
“Well, Norrix, I’ve told you my plan, and you are a necessary part of it. Will you agree to help me? In exchange for . . . some of the, er, after effects?”
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Of course, of course. What is our first move?” Norrix said, rubbing his hands together.
“Well, you can go back to the palace, but keep me updated on all of Matthias’s weaknesses so that we can push our way in bit by bit. I myself will soon journey to Sarulle to make the agreement with his majesty there.” Makaroth explained. Norrix grinned a crackly sort of smile and nodded. “I myself will speak with the king of Sarrulle.”
Why would Makaroth need to speak with the king of our enemy country?
I’d heard enough. They were done talking anyway, and I quietly walked down the hall.
Who was Kyden? And Matthias? I’d heard the name Matthias before, but from whom I could not recall.
I wasn’t paying attention and found my way into the east wing, where Makaroth’s room was situated. I’d never been in there before, for he would not permit anyone to enter, ever. Well, I don’t have a perfectly clean plate. I once tried to open it, but it was locked. I assumed that he always just kept it locked.
Upon peaking inside his room I saw piles of important-looking paperwork on a nearby desk, and I knew I couldn’t walk by. I picked one up and saw that the pile was all bound with a thick spiraling rope, with a thick cover on the front and the back.
It was his journal.
I opened it to the first page. It showed who it belonged to, and how old he was. I squinted at the numbers. He was even older than I’d thought.
The first entry:
Era 882, 3rd Season, 359
Upon my search of seeking out the truths of the legend, alas I return with not quite as much resolve as would’ve satisfied me. Yet it will have to suit me.
Some articles proclaimed that the bad omen struck the kings down dead during the eclipses, but some say that they were merely murdered by people who wanted to keep the legend alive. I believe the former, and more fervently now than before, although one can never be too sure.
In the concluding paragraphs (many paragraphs!) he talked of his current life in the palace and things that happened when he was much younger.
This next entry interested me more:
Era 882, Day 364
Her Majesty, the Queen Prismaeria has revealed to have given birth! We as regents were the ones informed first, although I suspected something of the sort, as she has kept herself hidden for many months. The next king, according to the Astronomers’ calendar (unless he is killed before he reigns) will be king during the total Carminite (compound word in Adaesia made up of Carmite and Inite, which means simply a solar eclipse, which of course, I should hope you know what at least that is). This means that the new prince’s safety will depend on what he believes of the prognostic. Hopefully he is a good king, differing from his father. . . .
I do not know whether his name would be Kyden or Matthias. The Queen can’t make up her mind, which is so much something a mother wouldn't be able to decide on. I’m laughing even now as I pen this.
I know hardly any information about it, only that the Queen gave birth to a son. No more, yet I yearn for so much more. I’ve come up with a plan, and to act upon it, I must know more about the prince —
I heard someone walking down the hallway. Heavy, shuffling footsteps.
Makaroth.
Quickly, I scrambled to find a hiding spot. I dove underneath the bed, as there was nowhere else to go.
I couldn’t see, but it sounded as if Makaroth had seated himself at the desk at which I had just been sitting, and pulled out a pen, dipping it in ink.
The only sound that resounded thereafter was the scratching of the quill on the paper. He was probably writing down his plan in his journal. I scowled. I didn’t know whether this plan of his was good or bad, but the way he talked about it convinced me that it was the latter.
He continued that way for a while, and I waited patiently under the bed. That is, until I got impatient, and decided I would try to sneak from the bed to the door. But at the first movement, he heard me.
“Rats,” He muttered. The rest of the evening, he wrote in his journal, and I waited there stomach growling, and my patience (there was hardly any there in the first place) dwindling and turning into irritation at every little thing: an ant that climbed up my leg that I couldn’t reach because of my position and every itch that was just out of my reach made my irritation turn into a rising anger.
Finally, the old man yawned and then climbed into the bed directly above me.
Great, I thought.
I’ll have to wait.
And wait.
Finally, what I wanted to hear. Makaroth was snoring (but more importantly, sleeping).
So I crept out from under the bed and tiptoed over to the door. As I was opening it to leave, Makaroth shouted, “Don’t go . . . go” his words slurred, fading back into a snore. I turned back away, my face almost pale at the suddenness of his sleep-talking.
I ran right into the housekeeper.
“Whatcha doing up so late at night?” She exclaimed. “You’ll wake the master and get yerself in a whole lot o’ trouble.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I saluted merrily. She squinted at me, and said,
“Ye feeling alright, Lew?” I winced at the abbreviation.
“Perfectly normal,” I nodded, then walked down the hall to find my bedroom.
I lay on the bed, replaying what Makaroth had said. Both Matthias and Kyden were mentioned in his journal as soon-to-be princes (once they were born, that is), so that was probably where he had heard the name Matthias before, because, of course, the king now was Matthias.
Then the queen finally made up her mind, I thought, chuckling.
The next day Gideon and I had our sword fighting lessons.
Gideon had defeated me the previous duals, time and time again, but I had been slowly letting him get the upper hand so I could learn his moves and tricks. Now would be the day I would overcome him, and prove myself.
I grabbed my sword from off the dresser, pulled on a jacket, and walked out to the rose garden, where there was a stone dome-like arbor that was perfect for a fight.
“Are you prepared?” Gideon called from the inside, pulling his sword from his sheath.
I smiled sarcastically, and replied, “I don’t know, but you better be ready,”
“You’ve got confidence, great confidence indeed. Remember, expect the unexpected.” He threw a grape at my head that was on the vines surrounding the arbor. I grinned, as I took my stance opposite from him, holding my sword in a ready position.
I attacked, slashing at his arm. He quickly deflected it with his sword and stabbed down towards my leg. I moved in time and blocked his sword away before throwing a strong blow to his shoulder. He took a step back, and although I didn’t want to cause him pain, I understood that surrendering would mean his continuous triumph over me.
Before he stood, I neared him quickly, blocking a strike to knock the sword from my hand. He next went for my head, throwing a blow that surely would have knocked me unconscious. I ducked to the ground and parried at his swinging sword until they were both at an angle which we both forcibly pushed with all our might. But I was stronger, and his sword gave out, and I twirled mine, flinging Gideon’s to the ground. Broken.
Gideon looked surprised, and leered at me, saying,
“Was it only yesterday that you gave in to such an ignominious defeat?”
I shrugged, “I guess so,”
“Well,” He said, flustered. “You’ve improved, I must say.” He beamed at me but still seemed a bit puzzled. I guess the sudden defeat was too much for him.
“It’s probably just old age,” I said, patting him on the shoulder. He grimaced, as I’d accidentally touched the shoulder I’d hit earlier.
“I’m going to be alright, don’t worry,” He said before I asked. I nodded, and said,
“Shall we try again?”
After he got a new sword, we did. Again and again, we parried and fought, clanging and slashing. I beat him again, and again. Time after time, match after match. Each round he grew more deflated with his defeat, but I grew stronger each round, more and more proud and encouraged by each victory over the man.
By the end of our lessons that morning, it became almost boring matching each of his blows as I now knew all of his moves, and I wondered why I hadn’t done this ages ago.
Gideon mopped his brow, saying, “What do you say we quit for the day? You can get a nice lemonade or something inside?” I agreed wearily. We’d probably been fighting for about two hours. Two hard hours that added to my strength and skill in swordsmanship. Was it worth it? I always answered to myself, no, but perhaps it would be in the future.
Inside I grabbed a lemonade from the kitchen and walked off to the library. There I commenced my studies, which consisted of the Adaesian language grammar, and the Marshall language, which was hardly different; and Talicadian, history, reading, numbers, and science. Learning multiple languages was highly favored, and most successful men were bilingual because so many trades had a big necessity of knowing the languages of other countries.