Noble Beginnings (3 page)

She shrugged. "I suppose not."

They arrived in the outer halls of the
castle, and passed the rest of the trip up to Dorran's chambers in
silence. Word had spread, and the halls of the castle were even
more still and somber than usual; aside from a few old servants
putting up slightly moth eaten dark wall hangings, they saw no one
as they traveled up a series of wide staircases.

Dorran's room was only slightly less
ostentatious than he remembered the same two delicate vases that
he'd never used framed the mantelpiece, but a few of the old wall
hangings had been removed over the years or so he'd been told.

"So, home again..." Edith said, watching him
closely. "Did you miss living here?"

He shook his head. "Would you like living in
this place?"

Before she could answer, they were
interrupted by two servants. An older lady Dorran didn't know and a
pretty, dark-haired woman a year or two his senior whose name, he
remembered was Myriel came into the room. They curtsied quietly,
and then began hanging up some dusty hangings on the walls.

Dorran had the impulse to ask them not to
bother, but Edith continued their conversation before he could open
his mouth. "I'm not the first in line to inherent the duchy." she
pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

Dorran looked at her and let out a small sad
laugh. "No, I didn't miss it," he said. "I brought everything I
needed down with me, after all. And what am I supposed to do with
the rest of this?” Dorran said turning in circles holding his hand
out to everything that surrounded them.

She shrugged. "Appearances are important,
right? To show the pride and prosperity of Farlan."

Dorran thought he saw Myriel throw her a
sidelong glance, but kept his attention on answering Edith's
question. "I think Mother believes it's more important to show
solidarity with the people. We should never forget the hardships
that Farlan is going through, after all."

"I guess that's true...but you don't seem
like the kind of person to forget about that."

"....Thanks," he said, surprised at the
straightforward compliment.

"Anyway." She walked over to the door, then
looked over her shoulder to survey him. "I'll let the others know,
but you should probably go talk to them when you can find the
time."

He nodded. "I know. It'll be strange,
figuring out what to tell them."

"Not really," she said. "Just tell them the
truth that you're doing the best you can. Any soldier should be
able to understand that."

She left before he could try to formulate an
answer, nodding to the servants on her way out.

Dorran stood awkwardly for a long moment
after she left, listening to her quiet footfalls fading in the
distance. Then he turned to the servants in the room, shuffling his
feet awkwardly.

"Thanks for this," he said uncertainly.

They curtsied. "Please think nothing of it,
my lord," the younger servant said smoothly. "Is there anything
else we can do for you?"

"Um, actually...Myriel, isn't it? And I'm
sorry, but I don't know your name," he added, addressing the second
woman.

She curtsied. "Calla, my lord."

"Very well. Myriel, Calla...thank you again,
but please feel free to leave the rest of the old hangings stored
away. I'm not going to need them."

Calla looked uncertain. "Are you sure, my
lord?"

"Yes. I'll be able to move the rest of my
personal effects as well, so please don't go to any further trouble
on my account."

"If you say so, my lord," she replied giving
Dorran a quick bow that was mirrored by Myriel then the two quickly
left the room.

"Thank you," he called belatedly as they
passed over the threshold. Myriel smiled at him over her shoulder
as they left.

Dorran still had a few personal effects to
bring back from his room in the barracks, but he needed a moment to
think. He let himself fall back onto his mattress larger much
softer than he was used to, to the point of discomfort. Trying to
get comfortable he stared blindly up at the canopy above him. It
was threadbare, and he was glad that no one had gone to the
unnecessary trouble of repairing it.

Looking at that canopy for the first time in
years, an uncomfortable memory stirred in the back of Dorran's
mind. After his father's death, a few of the old hangings on the
wall had given him nightmares. He had them for several months, and
had quickly come to hate the hangings, the nights, and the room
itself. The nightmares were full of frightening, nonsensical images
his father being torn apart by long-reaching gray hands, or stabbed
full of skewers and then left in the sun to bloat and rot, or
trampled to pieces by a horse and cart .

None of them were reasonable, even he, young
as he was, knew that and, knowing this, he didn't feel it would be
appropriate to share them. Instead, he took to spending hours in
his mother's personal library looking for books about the specifics
of combat, and finally ended up in the barracks, listening to the
soldiers and eventually asking to be lent a practice sword of his
own.

He'd befriended Edith there. They were both
quiet and strongly motivated to learn about combat. She'd lost her
older brother, her sole guardian, in the same battle where Dorran's
father had been slain. They had never talked about it beyond
factual details, and that very silence was part of the reason
Dorran had always trusted Edith as much as he did now. She had
proven a loyal friend through the years, and he trusted her with
his safety and those of the other trainees, just as he one day
hoped to be able to rely on her in battle. It was unusual for women
to be soldiers, but due to the low number of available soldiers it
was slowly becoming more common, and he might be able to make an
exception where Edith was concerned if he argued hard enough.

And now, with Grandfather, too...I certainly
know that I would want someone like her at my side in a fight. He
sighed at the apprehension in the thought and turned over. For
years he'd let preparation for battle become his sole focus, and it
had allowed him to forget about the responsibilities he carried as
the sole male heir of the duchy. Lying once again in his room in
the castle, he felt much more nervous than he had the first time
he'd trained freestyle with another student, and knew with the
soldier's sense he'd honed with fierce determination that it was
because he knew he was unprepared. Still, he was a Farlane, and
sworn to serve the duchy beyond the duties of any soldier. He
wouldn't let his poor preparation stop him from serving his family
to the best of his ability.

He sighed. Edith had been right, after all.
He would have to explain it to the others properly. Dorran rested
his elbows on his knees, laid his chin in his hands, and stared at
the stone wall as he contemplated what words he would use to
explain why he had to leave the place where he had always felt most
at home.

Chapter III

In Farlan, full mourning traditionally lasted
for one month. This meant dark clothing and somber decorations for
every room where any significant amount of time was spent in social
affairs. It also meant that the air of the castle was respectfully
hushed, allowing the memory of loss to permeate the hallways. It
was a token of respect that many viewed with bitterness, especially
those that had felt personal loss in the past. By the time that the
mourning period ended, all of the castle's occupants were quietly
relieved and ready to move on to the less subdued air that was more
common around the palace at least between the King's messengers
that arrived from the war front. In this case, the springtime
weather made the return to normal dress and decorum a particular
relief for the castle's inhabitants.

For Dorran, though, the castle became even
more unbearable once the mourning period was over. The hallways,
while still quiet, now echoed with far-off conversations, many of
them sharp or seeming to loom up on him without warning. The
streets didn't echo like this, but Dorran wasn't able to leave the
castle as often as he had previously. The barracks also echoed, but
there far-off words were covered by the sound of blows; or, more
frequently, only silence or the most distant of whispers would
reach the ears of another.

Whereas before he had spent his time silently
pacing the castle, attending meetings when summoned, or sitting in
his room re-reading the books he'd been given to study in his
childhood, now there seemed to be people everywhere. And every time
one of them turned their eyes on him, he would have the feeling
that they were looking right through him, as if they were judging
him, that they knew he had no idea what he was supposed to be
doing.

Is this what it's like for Addie and Nora all
the time? He would find himself wondering, and didn't know whether
to envy them or pity them if that was the case. His sisters were so
sure of themselves or at least they appeared that way to him.

More irritating even than the feeling of
aimlessness, though, was the fear of his body slowly slipping out
of shape due to lack of exercise. He'd carefully stayed away from
the barracks at first, to prove to his mother that he was doing his
best to follow her instructions; after the first few weeks, though,
when no further instructions were sent his way, he finally decided
that going down to the barracks three afternoons a week to train
would probably help him focus, now that he'd more or less adjusted
to castle life.

So he picked an afternoon, checking carefully
with Nora ahead of time, and walked down to the barracks to see how
training was progressing, with his own dulled practice blade slung
over his shoulder.

Walking down the hallways of the barracks
felt strange. They seemed quieter than he remembered, but also more
familiar, it was like visiting an old friend after a long absence.
Dorran found himself wishing fervently that he'd never left, that
he could just quietly return here and pretend his mother had never
asked for his increased involvement in castle affairs. He shook his
head and tried to put the childlike notion behind him. Figuring
that there was no point in fretting over things he couldn't change.
Instead, he was resolved to enjoy the next few hours and try to not
let the awkwardness of the situation get to him.

When he entered, though, he immediately
sensed that the atmosphere in the training hall was different.
There were a few small knots of people training in the corners of
the large room, but the tone was more subdued than he remembered. A
few heads turned in Dorran's direction, and their owners waved
cheerfully at him, but something still felt off to him as he waved
in reply.

It took only a second scan of the room for
him to realize what, or rather who, was missing: Edith was nowhere
to be found. Dorran shrugged to himself and went to train with a
group of the younger boys, preparing himself to be unpleasantly
surprised by how out of shape he had become in the past weeks.

It was only after he'd thoroughly beaten
Marcus for the third time and realized that Edith still hadn't
shown up that he bothered asking why she wasn’t present.

Marcus shrugged. "I'm not sure, my lord.
She's been gone for a couple of days now. I think Mister Vernis
might know more, but I haven't heard anyone say much of
anything."

Dorran frowned. "That's strange," he
admitted. "I guess I'll ask her about it when she comes back. In
the meantime, though, why don't you do a round or two with Iain?
I'll watch."

Marcus nodded, easily distracted, and Iain
stepped up. Dorran saw the boy's Adam's apple bobbing as he
swallowed and got into a battle-ready stance. Iain was around
Marcus's age, but hadn't been training for as long, so Dorran
supposed he had reason to be nervous. "Now, Iain, I want you to
focus in maintaining your defense. You have the habit of hoping to
get in lucky hits, especially when you spar with Marcus. That’s
something that can get you killed in a real battle so we need to
work on overcoming that.

Eventually, the boys had progressed to the
point that Dorran felt comfortable breaking free and wandering over
to some of the older trainees. He found Vernis, Tam, and a few of
the other veterans were lounging against the far wall, watching the
younger fighters. "Vernis," he said, and the older man grunted a
greeting, his eyes staying fixed on a pair of woman fighters. When
their sparring match ended, he looked over at Dorran. "Hey there,
my lord. It’s been awhile since you graced us with your
presence."

"I haven't been able to come by in a while,"
Dorran admitted. "You know how it is. So where's Edith?"

"Ah, I don't quite know, exactly. The young
lady told Tam here that she'd be leaving for a bit, but she didn't
give a reason. This is the second time this week, too..." He
frowned. "I've no idea what she's up to, but I'm sure she wouldn't
leave if it wasn't important. I've seen her fighting' just as
lively as ever when she is here...but I'm afraid that's all I
know."

"Thanks," Dorran said the disappointment
evident in his voice. "Hey, want to find me a sparring
partner?"

"Don't see why not. Hey, Kell! Get over
here."

Dorran swung his practice sword off his
shoulder, holding it ready at his hip. He was worried about Edith
but knew there was nothing he could do for her at the present time.
He hoped a good heated fight would easy his mind and relax the
tension that had been building over the past few weeks. Letting the
tip of his blade drop a little Dorran took a deep breath and
prepared himself to fight against someone his own size.

He hadn't been sure, when he'd arrived, how
long he intended to stay. He had learned early that as the Heir
apparent that there was little reason to plan on any of his free
activities. Whenever he did something or someone always came along
forcing him to change it so he had learned to take things as they
came.