A week later, Turgeon and Daelrud were enjoying each other’s company during the evening meal when the Thoth twins returned to the feast hall for the first time since the ambush.

  Dael spotted them before Turgeon, and he directed his friend’s attention to the entrance subtly with a small nod of his head. Ted and Ed looked to be in good health, none the worse for the beating they had received a week ago, at least in a physical sense. Despite their physical well being, it was apparent the encounter with Turgeon had been a significant blow to their confidence: they both entered with hunched shoulders and downcast eyes, avoiding eye contact with not just Turgeon and Dael but anyone in the feast hall. Everyone in the castle knew what had happened, and they knew that their embarrassment had become common knowledge with the court.

  As they went to take a seat in an isolated corner of the room, too embarrassed to associate with the rest of the court, an idea occurred to Turgeon and he began to stand.

  Dael pushed him back down with a firm hand on his shoulder, “What are you doing?” He hissed, “If you start another squabble with them here, in front of the entire court, even I won’t be able to help you. Your Master won’t either.”

  “It’s okay, Dael. That’s not what I’m thinking. I’m not angry with them and don’t want to fight them again. The only thing I feel for those two is pity.”

  “You don’t owe them your pity, Turge. They’ve earned whatever shunning they receive.”

  “You’re right, of course… but I have an idea, give me a chance to see how it plays out.”

  Dael didn’t seem convinced that whatever Turgeon was thinking would be a good idea, but he removed the restraining hand from his shoulder.

  “I trust you Turge, but please be careful. You may not pity them, but they are in a bad place right now and liable to lash out.”

  Sauntering over to where the twins ate in silence Turgeon attempted to strike the balance of exuding confidence without seeming cocky. If this conversation started with the wrong tone it would be nearly impossible to course correct and that would likely lead to a disastrous outcome.

  When he approached them, they tried to avoid even acknowledging his presence, keeping focus on their meals and not looking up. As he expected, the burden of building this bridge would fall on his shoulders.

  Taking what he thought was an inoffensive posture, not cocky or aggressive, Turgeon cleared his throat to force the twins to acknowledge him. They both looked up at him slowly, simmering anger evident in their glare.

  “What do you want, farm boy?”

  “I came to apologize,” Turgeon began carefully, “I’m sorry about what happened between us, and I’m hoping we can start over.”

  As expected, the twins were shocked by Turgeon’s extended olive branch. Now he just needed to take advantage of their surprise to achieve what he had in mind.

  “Y’grathen is gone from court,” he began his ploy, “You don’t need to impress him anymore. Especially after what happened… between us, and with the duke’s son gone, you need friends at court. As I’m sure you’re aware, Dael and I also need friends at court. It would be in all of our interests to join together and cease the pointless quarreling.”

  They certainly hadn’t expected Turgeon to be so direct, and with a request like that. The twins communicated with each other silently with a glance in the way that only close siblings can, and Ted responded in a tone laced with bile.

  “Thanks but no thanks, farm boy. We’ll take our punches on our own.”

  Turgeon had expected as much, this was but another early engagement in what could prove to be a protracted conflict. “That’s as may be,” he leaned in and dropped his voice to ensure no one else in the feast hall would overhear what he said next, “But let me remind you that I will one day be Suzette’s blade. When she becomes Queen, much will change in Falkaria.” His use of the Princess’ first name was deliberate, to remind the Thoth’s of his close relationship with her.

  Turning on his heel and leaving Ted and Ed to ponder the conversation, he returned to where Dael anxiously awaited him at their table.

  “What did you say to them?” He asked immediately when Turgeon regained his seat, “They didn’t look right pleased to hear it…”

  “I offered them our friendship.”

  “You … what?!?” Dael spluttered in a most ungraceful manner that was totally out of character for him. The thought shocked the Duke as much as it had surprised the twins.

  “We need friends at court, and they need friends at court. I reminded them that with Y’grathen gone and their recent behavior putting them in disgrace they are as much outcasts as we are – possibly even more so.”

  “Were they amenable to that argument?”

  “Not yet, but I think in time they will be. We shall see. If not, we’ve lost nothing, but there is possibly much to gain.”

  “How so?”

  “Y’grathen will return to court someday, possibly someday soon. When he does, those two will either gravitate back into his influence and continue to be a problem for us or they will have become our friends and will be a problem for Y’grathen. Which would you prefer?”

  Daelrud didn’t need long to think that through. “Y’grathen will be ‘rupting pissed off at us you realize.”

  “He already hates us,” Turgeon pointed out, “I’d say it’s worth angering him to gain allies.”

  “You’re right, of course. Well worth it.”

  *****

  It became apparent to Turgeon and Suzette both why the two handed sword was considered the pinnacle of the Fiorian arts. While there was much to learn to master the weapon and it’s techniques, training with it was also downright pleasurable and gaining mastery of it’s techniques and secrets gave them a visceral feeling of increasing deadliness. There was a growing sense between them that when it came to martial combat they could do anything and defeat anyone.

  The Swordmaster saw their growing confidence, and while at times he nurtured it and allowed it to blossom he also took opportunities to put them in their place and remind them how much they had yet to learn. Despite their growing skill, neither student could last more than a few exchanges against the master without being forced to acknowledge defeat.

  They practiced increasingly more complicated plays for the longer blade, chaining them together into more and more complex catae as they progressed through Klaaverius’ curriculum. They learned how to take the point when their opponent delivered a thrusting attack, and how to convert a taken point into an exchange of thrusts, delivering a nearly unblockable counter thrust. They practiced fighting in the outside line and the inside line as dictated by the position of the combatants bodies relative to their blades, learning which plays were more applicable in either situation. From within the bind, when two combatants blades are locked in contact, they learned the art of winding, seeking to gain the advantage of strong on weak and a position from which to deliver a killing blow.

  In time and as their skill with the two handed sword grew, the fluid flow of their free play exchanges became a beautiful dance that sometimes lasted nearly an hour before one gained the advantage. As their endurance grew, these hour long bouts would leave them barely winded and having hardly broken a sweat. Turgeon was typically the victor, having developed into a stronger and faster fighter through his additional training and natural ability. Suzette was no slouch though, and she still won their exchanges often enough.

  Then one afternoon, after months of training with the weapon, the impossible happened: Turgeon defeated the Swordmaster in an exchange, gaining the advantage and arriving at the true place to deliver an unblockable cut to their teacher’s neck. Suzette, watching the bout from the side of the salle, audibly gasped when it happened. The Swordmaster’s reaction was unexpected, a huge grin splitting his face immediately, he dropped his weapon in defeat and shocked Turgeon by encircling him in a great bear hug.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  “Well done, apprentice,” he boomed, “You’ve made me proud today.”

  While Suzette was happy for Turgeon, it was clear to all of them that she was disappointed in herself for having fallen behind in her own training. The Swordmaster understood her downcast mien, and addressed her as well, “Your time will come, Suzette. There have been moments recently when I thought it was going to happen, but I was just barely able to slip your attack. It is close, and when it does happen I will be just as proud of your achievement as Turgeon’s.”

  *****

  While Turgeon and Suzette advanced their skill with the blade, Turgeon’s role in Falkarian court politics had also advanced apace. In particular, his ploy with the Thoth twins had borne fruit as time had passed.

  Within days of Turgeon’s original outreach to Ted and Ed, they had approached the table where Turgeon and Daelrud sat for the evening meal each night. They didn’t quite have their tails between their legs, but their contrition was evident in their body language and facial expressions. Their shoulders were slumped, their eyes were downcast, darting around the room and their steps were slow and heavy.

  “Hello, Ted. Ed,” Turgeon initiated the conversation when they seemed reluctant despite having approached him and Daelrud.

  “Turgeon. Your Grace,” both twins bowed when Ted greeted the Duke. “We’d like to apologize,” he said through a grimace, “for our behavior towards both of you. It was unkind, and beneath our station.”

  Turgeon wondered if someone had written this apology for them, probably one of their retainers.

  Dael scowled and did his best to look down his nose at the twins, disregarding the fact that he was sitting and they were both standing. Unsurprisingly, he was less willing to accept their apology. While Dael played down his aristocratic roots, he had been raised in one of the wealthiest households in the kingdom and was not used to tolerating such ill behavior towards himself or his friends.

  For Turgeon, this was merely the next phase of the plan he had initiated the previous week falling into place. They would still have work to do to earn his trust, but he was willing to accept the twin’s apology.

  “Apology accepted. From both of you,” Ted had voiced the apology, but Turgeon considered him the twin’s spokesman and presumed it stood for both. Ed nodded his confirmation of the unspoken question. “Would you like to join us for our repast?”

  Ted and Ed both nodded their agreement and sat at the table with Turgeon and Daelrud, the first step in mending fences between them. For the first few nights, the meal was an awkward experience for all four of them, with limited discussion as Daelrud and Turgeon made an effort to become comfortable giving voice to their thoughts in earshot of two former enemies. The twins were still abashed, likely ashamed of their previous behavior, and afraid of a misstep that would be a setback to this budding friendship.

  Turgeon made an effort to stimulate conversation, asking questions about the twins home of Innsurmer, but that line of inquiry only made them clam up even more than normal. One evening, after Turgeon had been particularly persistent in his questions about the strange seaside village, Daelrud had pulled him aside after they left the feast hall and parted ways with the Thoths.

  “You shouldn’t be asking so many questions about Innsurmer, Turgeon.”

  “Why not? It’s their home, I figured they’d want to talk about it and it would be a great way to get them to open up…”

  Daelrud shook his head sadly, “There is nothing about Innsurmer that they will want to discuss, the place is… it’s said that the village is cursed. It’s not a pleasant place.”

  “It’s cursed? Sounds like another bedtime story for scaring naughty children to me… how can an entire village be cursed?”

  “Only the residents of Innsurmer know the truth of the matter, but it’s said that strange things happen there. Travelers who stay overnight often disappear, and those who don’t tell tales of strange noises like dark chants in the night and eerie red lights over the cove the village is situated over. Older tales speak of ancient caverns that predate the village beneath it, and monstrous beasts that live in those caverns. It’s a very odd place.”

  This was the first Turgeon had heard such tales, something he would have to take up with Master Jesphat. It seemed his knowledge of the kingdom was incomplete, perhaps too focused on the mundane facts of history and lacking in local lore and tales.

  “Point taken, Dael, thanks for the warning. We’ll have to find another topic to get them to open up about.”

  “Perhaps hunting? I know their father is a fanatical hunter, it’s probable that they share at least a passing interest as well.”

  “I’m not exactly an expert on the subject, Dael. Hunting isn’t exactly a popular pastime for poor residents of the city…”

  “Then maybe you’ll learn something new – and who knows, that knowledge might be useful someday. You’re not a poor peasant anymore Turge, you’re a prominent member of the royal court.”

  Daelrud was right, of course. There was so much about being a noble that Turgeon didn’t know, not that he was a noble – he just had to be able to blend in with them.

  So it was that they began to spend their meals discussing, and in Turgeon’s case learning, about the various species that were hunted in Southern Falkaria and the appropriate methods of hunting them. Turgeon learned how boar were hunted, with great parties and massive spears. He learned about hunting deer in small stealthy parties with bow and arrow, and how the best hunters strived to take down large bucks with huge antler racks.

  He even learned that some hunters sought what he had presumed to be mythical beasts in the wilds, like unicorns and basilisks. Dael, it turned out, had a passing knowledge of hunting himself. It seemed that before his father had been lost in the Jarlheim rebellion the two of them had passed many happy days stalking stags in the woods and chasing down foxes.

  In time, the tension between the four of them began to dissipate and their conversations branched out to other topics, with studious avoidance of any discussion of their homes. As much as the twins were loath to discuss Innsurmer, Dael avoided talk of his home in the Ko valley and Turgeon certainly wasn’t going to draw more attention to his upbringing on a small farm.

  His plan to befriend the twins and expand his circle of influence at court was bearing fruit though. With the size of his clique doubled, Turgeon felt that much more insulated from the vagaries and whims of the rest of the court, which in turn allowed him to continue to focus on his studies with both Master Jesphat and the Swordmaster with fewer distractions.

  That was the case until one afternoon, when word swept through the castle that another emissary had been given leave to cross the border between Summor and Falkaria, no doubt bringing more tidings of war.

  *****

  As with the emissary from Klaav, the King greeted the Summorian emissary in the castle’s main audience hall with his court in full splendor. Turgeon was once again ordered to take his place on the dais alongside the Swordmaster.

  In opposition to the Klaavan emissary’s understated bearing, the Summorian emissary and his massive retinue were a riot of color and fashion. The emissary himself wore a multicolored outfit that would’ve made a peacock jealous – no doubt the height of current fashion in the Summorian capital of Hallaigh. From what Turgeon had read, Hallaigh was a wondrous place. The city itself was many times the size of Falkaria, as befitted the capital of the much wealthier nation.

  It was said that any need could be met in the bazaars, main streets and back alleys of Hallaigh, no matter how extravagant or base. As the largest coastal port city in Atenla, it was the primary trade port for merchants from lands beyond. Trade brought Summor both wealth and unique sensibilities influenced by the outsiders that frequently visited there more than anywhere else in Atenla.

  This diversity was reflected in the emissary’s retinue, which was both larger and more diverse than the retinue of the Klaavan emissary by far. While the majority of emissary’s guards and followers were clearly Summorian, there were a smattering of foreigners amongst them with garb styled in ways that Turgeon had never seen or even imagined before. His attention was drawn to the group of women at the back of the train who were wearing nearly see through sheer silks and veils, but he studiously avoided further inspection of them after his master glared at him for his obvious ogling and he could feel his cheeks burning beet red.

  After that embarrassment, Turgeon tried to keep his focus on the emissary’s guards. He had brought half a dozen well armed and armored men into the audience hall, and Turgeon knew from the reports that had come ahead of the party that another thirty soldiers that accompanied them were camped outside the castle gates. The emissary’s guards were all large men – not quite as large as the members of the King’s Own Guard, but nearly so. Their armor was elaborately decorated with etchings and filigree, shined to a glamor and obviously meant to impress. Turgeon wondered how effective it would be in real combat.

  “His excellency, Comte Merise du Verais, ambassador from the Queen of Summor, her royal highness and the Light of Atenla, Isolde the first,” the ambassador was announced by a member of his retinue as he entered the audience hall. No few members of the Falkarian court scoffed and muttered curses at Isolde’s claiming the title “Light of Atenla,” but the King’s own expression remained steadfast and blank as a stone throughout the introduction.

  “King Maebric Falkar the First of Falkaria welcomes you to the Kingdom of Falkaria,” the Steward stepped in to perform an introduction for the King.

  “Greetings, Comte du Verais,” the King began, “and welcome to the court of Falkaria. We greet you with open arms and invite you to enjoy our hospitality. You must be exhausted from your journey, and perhaps would like to retire to the rooms we have prepared for you to freshen up.”

  “Of course, your Majesty. Thank you for your welcome and for your hospitality,” the Comte replied in a high pitched and very nasal voice that was not what Turgeon had expected to hear from the well built man. “I thank you for your generous invitation, and we would be pleased to enjoy the comforts you have so graciously provided.”

  With that introduction, the emissary took his leave and the court was dismissed for the evening. It seemed the emissary’s request would be heard in a different venue, likely one more private, at a later date. The King had apparently learned from the disaster that had been his very public engagement with Prince Gyuzski.