Chapter 2

A few minutes into Jorgarn's first lesson, Sir Torbert was tempted to promote him the Noble Guards immediately. He held himself in check, if only barely.

It was clear that Jorgarn was head and shoulders above the other trainees some of whom had spent two years in the program. But the Noble Guard wasn't the true goal of many of the young nobleman. For numerous reasons, few made the transition to full status.

Many of the young men faltered initially and left the program within a few days. Few were prepared for the rigors of training and some were unable or unwilling to put forth the effort to adapt.

Others would complete the training but advance no further. Their fathers or sometimes their mothers (because Emertland was not a patriarchal society as Longview and the other principalities of The Empire of Swar were) bought them a commission in a standing army abroad. Some men took different paths, acquiring a landed wife or a wife with future claims to land.

For a multitude of reasons, the Noble Guards consisted mainly of older men. For that reason, it had been difficult for the King and Sir Torbert to present a viable candidate to assume the vaunted position of Knight Protector to the Heir (or Heiress, as the case might be).

Sir Torbert had been the obvious choice for his brother, King Landor. Not only was Torbert qualified to be Knight Protector, Landor considered Torbert to be his closest friend. It was a foregone conclusion that the next young man promoted to the Noble Guards would have the inside track at being named Knight Protector for Princess Denae.

It was a prospect that the princess did not relish. She had surreptitiously watched the trainees and she was singularly unimpressed. Some of the commoners were much more capable but it was not possible for a commoner to be her Knight Protector.

She dreaded the thought of having a simpering fool like Elobert Fieth or Chicote Renoit as her protector. She would go without before dealing with one of those men. There were really only two candidates she would consider as her confidante and neither set her heart afire: Cruit Symington, her stepmother's favorite, and Traymer Ducotte, a mere boy of 13 who would be presented with the next class.

By tradition, Denae would be expected to name her choice at first convocation after her 15th birthday. But she knew she could put off the choice if she so chose. Her uncle, Sir Torbert, would act as her protector or appoint someone he felt was worthy should the need arise. But sometime in the next year, she would have to select the man who would be closer to her than her future husband would be.

After an hour of training, Sir Torbert knew Master Jorgarn was gaining nothing from the session. None of the aristocrats could come anywhere near him with a sword and probably would have difficulty if they were given a bow. After a brief respite, Torbert reluctantly moved Jorgarn to work with the commoners.

Some of the young non-noble trainees showed real promise as soldiers and as guards. At least there, Jorgarn would be able to demonstrate his full prowess. There are always problems mixing ranks. The first two or three training sessions were a waste because the young noble was often reluctant to even acknowledge the commoner let alone spar with them.

Torbert was pleasantly surprised when Jorgarn not only spoke with the other trainees, he accepted suggestions from them and offered suggestions in return. He even gently admonished one non-noble for going easy on him. It was a spirited session that brought a halt to other sessions as the trainees and Guards gathered around to watch.

Notably absent from the cheering throng was Cruit Symington, who took the opportunity to try to reclaim some of the possessions that Sir Torbert had given away.

Far above the courtyard, two young women watched the proceedings with interest.

"Oh, my!" one of them exclaimed when she saw a sword fly out of one of the trainee's hands.

"Oh, my, indeed," the other agreed. "I believe your fellow, Pernice, is going to be unhappy tonight. That is the second time it has happened. You will have to be extra nice to him this evening."

The first young woman laughed but blushed.

"Perhaps not," the second one interrupted. "Look, Pernice is smiling and shaking his head. He doesn't appear angry at all."

The first woman strained to her tiptoes. She wished she were as tall as her companion at times like these.

"He is!" she agreed. "That must be a trainer."

"Too young," the second stated. "He is not from the noble side. I'm sure each and every one of those louts has been paraded in front of me. I would wager he is a new recruit. He appears to be quite competent."

The first young woman glanced to her friend.

"Quite competent is a rare compliment from you," she joked. "I will have to ask Pernice about him during our after-dinner stroll. I'm certain you have an attendant who might like to spend time with a competent young guard."

"I believe all my friends are accounted for," Princess Denae rejoined. "Perhaps I need another friend."

"Perhaps you might like to spend a little time with him yourself," another voice said, startling the two.

Denae turned to face her stepmother.

"Perhaps I would," she said. "It is no business of yours."

Queen Lorida bristled. It galled her that no child of hers would be the heir. If her parents had been aware of the backward thinking of Emertland, she would never have been offered to the King after his wife's death. But that was years past and Queen Lorida had a nice life. She had taken to court life with no difficulty and she had even learned to control her husband, for the most part.

The only real area of contention was Princess Denae. The Princess had rebuffed every attempt for Lorida to befriend her and the King had summarily forbidden the Queen from making decisions that affected Denae.

That didn't stop the Queen from offering suggestions, however.

"I have requested Master Symington's presence at dinner tonight," she announced. "Word has arrived that he was promoted today to full guard status."

Denae rolled her eyes. The Queen was insistent that Symington be invited to dinner at least once per week. And for his part, Master Symington had been extremely charming and well behaved. Yet there was something lurking beyond the surface that Denae found troubling. He was too smooth, too glib, too interested in the things that held her interest.

She was certain that her stepmother was trying to dictate a decision that belonged rightfully to the Princess, a decision that Lorida had no business interfering with. Denae only wished she had other options.

Jorgarn ate his night meal in silence.

Neither Fieth nor Renoit attempted to make conversation. Each was a bit worried that Jorgarn would kill them where they sat. They had never seen a man move so quickly or one who possessed so much skill with such a variety of weaponry.

They had watched in awe as Jorgarn had decimated all the trainees. Then he had held his own against warriors 10 years his senior. He was definitely someone they didn't want to anger. Even though he was friendly with the common trainees, they didn't mention it.

Additionally, Symington's absence at the sparring matches did not go unnoticed by his cronies. They had worried, correctly as it turned out, that Symington would sneak back into their domicile and create mischief. Luckily for them and more than likely for Symington the pair had gotten back earlier than Jorgarn and caught Symington trying to pick the lock.

It was only an appeal to Symington's strong sense of self-preservation that led the man to leave well enough alone and to sneak out before Jorgarn got back.

Fieth and Renoit breathed a sigh of relief when Jorgarn arose silently and washed his bowl.

"Tell Symington if he tries to open my door again, I'll cut his hand off," Jorgarn said as he unlocked his door. "Then I'll cut your hands off. If he wants his things back, tell him to come to me and get them."

Both young men gulped but nodded when Jorgarn's gaze fell upon them.

"Good night then," he said, entered his chamber, locked the door and fell asleep.

Symington was his usual smooth self for most of the dinner. The Queen directed the conversation and kept it focused on the man's new posting. The subject of self-promotion was one in which Symington reveled.

The King and Princess were notable only by their silence. After the plates were cleared, the King spoke.

"So, I understand most of the trainees tried their hand at the new recruit," King Landor said in a conversational tone. His tone lulled the Queen into believing it was an off-handed question. "How did you fare?"

Symington's face had reddened at the initial statement. The question didn't help anything. But it was the look on the King's face that caused Symington to go white.

"I didn't face him, Sire," Symington replied.

The Princess picked up on the change in temperament immediately.

"Really?" she asked. "And why not? You've always been anxious to tell us of your prowess before. I thought the newcomer would be another you would try to prove yourself to."

"Denae," the Queen chided. "Master Symington is our guest."

"He is your guest," the King corrected. "And it is a valid question. Did young Jorgarn's skill give you pause?"

Denae at least had a name to put with the distant face.

"A commoner give Master Symington pause?" the Queen asked. "Really, dear."

Denae caught the look her father gave to her. She didn't understand it, but she saw it.

"Oh, Jorgarn is no commoner," the King said. "Is he, Master Symington?"