A Call to Arms: Book One of the Chronicles of Arden (8 page)

Diddy’s eyes danced playfully but before he could utter a response, Roland’s rough voice cut through the air. “
Tarquin Aldino!
Do you not have a partner?”

Gib glanced over in time to see Tarquin’s fair cheeks turn pink with color. It was clear he was embarrassed, as he seemed to be the only boy who hadn’t been able to find a sparring partner. Even his roommate Nage Nessuno had been able to find someone. Gib’s lip threatened to twitch.

Tarquin’s face and neck were a fantastical shade of crimson as he replied, “N–no, sir. I believe there are an odd number of us—”

Roland waved his hand in the air. He pointed at someone out of Gib’s view, farther down the line of trainees. “Kezra! Get over here. Looks like I found you a partner after all.”

Tarquin let out an imploring groan, his eyes widening. “But she’s a girl!”

Even before Gib could see her, he was certain he knew who it was. The girl from yesterday with the wild hair and diamond on her forehead stormed over to the highborn boy. Her dark face was contorted into a fearsome frown as she came upon him. Voice low and clear, her words travelled across the field. “All the more fitting for when I kick your whining ass, Aldino.”

Tarquin opened his mouth as if to protest further but Roland stepped in immediately. “Enough. I don’t care who either of your fathers are or whether you like it or not, you’re partnered. If I hear another word on the matter you’ll both be running circuits. Is that clear?”

Gib didn’t watch any more. The line was beginning to move as a couple of training assistants opened the shed and directed students on which tools to take. “Will they help us if we don’t know which one to choose?” he asked Diddy.

His companion nodded. “I believe so. If they’re busy, you want to go for a sword that’s not too long for your arm.” At Gib’s dubious look, Diddy smiled, elaborating further. “You should be able to hold it down by your side without the blade tip touching the ground. Likewise, it shouldn’t rest above your ankle.”

Gib hoped he could remember that in the future. Diddy must have picked up on his tense shoulders or stance because he was jovial and casual in conversation. “I believe Master Roland may have been singling me out a little with his speech about no jewel-encrusted embroidery. I tried to tell Mother I would have no need of such finery, but she insisted I look my best on the first day. I shall revel in showing her my training uniform.”

“I’m excited too,” replied Gib. “I’ll actually have a pair of boots that fit.” He laughed to show that it was acceptable. “Will we have to pay for them somehow?”

“I–I’m really not sure.” Diddy paused as if to think. “I would say not. Surely if you’re training to defend Arden then it would be in the palace’s best interest to provide quality gear. I’ll have to ask Father.”

Their conversation lulled and the quiet instantly sought to undo Gib’s hard-earned peace of mind. “Is your father on the high council?”

Diddy flinched and Gib wondered if he’d said something wrong.

His companion recovered quickly however, flashing a smile. “You could say that.”

Roland’s voice boomed above the line of trainees just then as he bellowed at some poor fool who had knocked over a row of practice helms. Gib leaned a little closer to Diddy so no one else could hear. “Weapons Master Roland sure is different than the rest of the highborns here.”

Diddy snorted. “What is that supposed to mean, exactly?” He feigned offense for a moment before laughing. “Besides, the Korbin family isn’t highborn anyway.”

Gib frowned. “What? How is that possible? Roland is a master, after all.”

Diddy’s eyes widened just a little as he put the pieces together. “Oh, I see. Roland Korbin was a farmer once too, just like you. He was drafted or came here on his own, I’m not sure which, and has worked his way through the ranks.”

A creeping sensation began to blossom somewhere in Gib’s gut. “You can do that? You don’t have to be highborn to hold the title of Master?”

“It is unfortunately rare, but yes. Lowborns can ascend the social and political ranks.”

It seemed vaguely familiar now that it was being said. He was sure he remembered his pa going on about this once. They’d been hauling water from the well and his father had been speaking of King Rishi and the changes that were coming to the country. “
You can be born poor, Gib, but you don’t have to stay that way anymore. Arden finally has a good king who sees everyone’s value
.”

A slow smile crept across Gib’s face. “It was King Rishi’s doing, wasn’t it? My pa always used to tell me stories about the good changes he’d made. King Rishi must be a decent sort. I mean, his laws have made it so that commoners can rise in the ranks and my sister, Liza, was able to become a sentinel. He seems like he must be wise.”

Diddy didn’t respond, but he had a huge grin on his face. Gib couldn’t figure out why. They were next in line to be fitted with the wooden blades that they would bash each other with. No doubt they would leave the field today with bruises the size of small houses and here Diddy was, smiling like a loon.

Gib grudgingly accepted the shortest sword the attendants could find—and it was still just a bit too long—and then the pair of students headed out into the field to await further direction. They didn’t say much as Gib was still preoccupied with the grand idea of living in a fine house one day if he worked hard. Diddy, likewise, was quiet.

Tarquin Aldino’s voice cut through the air. “We could stand next to Gibben.”

Gib shuddered but had nowhere to go. The highborn fool was making his way closer and the girl whom he’d been partnered with, Kezra, followed. Her frown remained constant, and Gib wondered if she knew how to smile at all. He didn’t have long to dwell on the thought because Tarquin stood nearby, glancing awkwardly at Diddy. What
was
Tarquin’s problem?

Kezra caught up and kneeled to tighten one of her bootlaces. Dark green eyes leveled her partner from behind wild onyx hair. “Are you sure they’re the ones you want to stand next to? I’d rather spar where we’ll draw less attention. This will be entertainment for all here. One of the only three female recruits right next to the pri—”

Roland’s voice washed over them like a wave of thunder. “
Soldiers, to the north!
” Instantly Diddy, Tarquin, and Kezra turned to face north. Gib scrambled to follow.

“Base stance!”

Gib watched as the others around him spaced their feet and took up their swords in fighting hands. He followed along, wishing he knew what was going on. Should he already know these commands? He’d never run practice drills on the farm before. How was he supposed to keep up when everyone was already so far ahead of him?

“Good!” Roland was moving through the paired trainees. “Most of you already know basic commands. If you do and you realize your partner does not, help them out! If I catch anyone slighting their partner, they’ll be running circuits. Five or six laps around the field might make you feel a little more generous!” Mutters rippled through the line of trainees.

“Speaking out of turn—another excellent way to earn circuits. If I hear talk about anything other than our drills and how to perform them, then every student in that area will run. The innocent can pay proper thanks to the one who felt the rules applied to everyone but himself!”

Gib locked his jaw. What if he had to sneeze? Was that allowed? He could feel the panic tingle down his spine. As Roland commanded them through basic formations and then had them square off against their partners, the Weapons Master’s voice was the only one to be heard.

They were told to focus on defense and to take turns switching between assaulting and blocking. Gib was grateful that Diddy was a bit more reserved in his swipes and blows. When Gib missed a block, the resulting tap was hard enough to discourage him from being distracted again but not so heavy he feared real damage. Tarquin, on the other hand, winced each time Kezra caught him off guard. The thud of her sword against his arms, legs, and chest could be heard by everyone. Gib hoped he never had to be partnered with her.

Roland was moving through the pairs of students, sometimes giving advice and other times merely observing. Gib watched out of the corner of his eye as the Weapons Master closed in on them. Gib tried not to hold his breath and to keep his focus, but he was so nervous. The trainer’s eyes bore into the back of Gib’s skull, scrutinizing his every move.

“Widen the space between your hands on the hilt.” Roland was beside them now, speaking to Diddy. “You’ll have better control over your blade. There, yes. Keep your hands like that. Very good, Your Highness.”

Gib nearly dropped his own weapon.
What?
He was pretty sure his ears hadn’t deceived him. Had the Weapons Master just referred to Diddy as—as—?

Diddy’s face flushed as he responded to the trainer in a quick, hushed voice. “Please, sir. Just ‘Didier’ while we’re in class. You said yourself, no favorites or titles.”

Roland hesitated for just a moment before conceding. “Fair enough.” He gave Diddy a small clap on the back. “Carry on then, Didier.”

Gib was pretty sure some form of exasperated groan left his mouth. His hands suddenly felt clammy as his nerves spiked. Tarquin was grinning up a storm beside him, and Kezra took it upon herself to lay a hearty thwack against his ribs while he was distracted. Gib felt like he’d received the blow. He was such a fool! No wonder all the other students were giving him sideways glances! He’d been talking to the Prince of Arden all this time and hadn’t realized it!
Great going, you idiot. You’ve made yourself look like a bumbling fool
.

The Weapons Master moved past them. Gib knew he was supposed to be continuing the exercise, but he couldn’t raise his hot face from the ground to meet Diddy’s eyes. The prince, likewise, hesitated at first. It wasn’t until one of the assistants came by with a shrewd look that both boys fell back into their routine. They continued on in marked silence until the class came to its end and they waited to put away their weapons.

“I’m sorry I didn’t reveal myself,” the prince whispered. Diddy’s voice sounded dim as he shuffled a foot across the ground.

Gib shook his head, words lost to him. What could he say without making a further fool of himself?

“I sometimes wish I could just be like everyone else,” the prince continued with a sigh. “I didn’t think it was important that you knew who I was.”

Gib grimaced. “If I’d known, I–I would have spoken to you with more respect, uh, Your Highness—”

“That’s exactly it,” Diddy cut him off. “I don’t want to be given special treatment. I don’t want people to be so afraid of my title that they won’t speak to me. I just want—” He swallowed and glared at the ground. “I want to be perfectly insignificant, if only for a short while.”

Gib nodded, but he didn’t understand. The prince was speaking as though he was discontent with his life. How could anyone dislike being royalty? Sure, he probably had a book’s worth of rules and proper decorum to follow, but if being scrutinized by the public eye was the sole cost of living in luxury, surely it was a small price to pay. Diddy would never have to experience the pain of an empty belly or worry over whether he was able to purchase textiles to clothe himself. He wouldn’t grow cold during the long winter nights, and even if war were to break out between Arden and Shiraz, Diddy would certainly be one of the best protected warriors riding into battle.

A sudden thought occurred to Gib and the bottom of his stomach dropped out. “Wait. Those boys from earlier—”

Diddy bit back a smile as he examined his sword. “For them to have paid you so little mind, I’m sure they realized you didn’t know me or them.”

“I’m a fool.”

“Not at all. I’m sure they appreciated the rare anonymity as well.”

Gib nodded. After they put their weapons away they were immediately lined up in front of several tailors and measured for their uniforms. Didier excused himself, explaining that he would be measured later and needed to be elsewhere now. Gib didn’t want to pry, so he didn’t ask where the prince was going. Before leaving, Diddy extended a wish for them to be partners again on the morrow.

Waiting in line to be measured, Gib realized no one had said where he was to report next. Judging by the midday sun, he would guess it was time to take his meal but wasn’t certain. Looking around for anyone who might help, he discovered Kezra being measured beside him. They’d never formally been introduced and he was afraid to get her attention, but he didn’t want to bother an instructor. Hopefully she wouldn’t beat the hell out of him like she’d done with Tarquin.

“Uh, do you know if we go straight to the dining hall from here?”

Kezra didn’t respond at first. In fact, Gib realized she didn’t know he was speaking to her. She blinked a moment later and frowned. “Oh. Where you—? Yeah. Midday meal next then whichever class you have after that.”

He nodded, a shuddering breath escaping him. “All right. Thanks.”

She still didn’t smile, but the more he saw of her the less intimidating she seemed. “You remember where to go?”

“Yeah. I think so. But do you know where I would go for the Ardenian Law class after midday meal?”

Kezra shrugged. “That’s where I’m going after I eat. You can follow me if you don’t find any of your friends at the dining hall.”