C3 3

The demons seem to have simply no idea about some things. I will explain it to him:

“A ruler. I reign over land and people.”

“That cannot be. There is only one ruler, who commands the whole country – the Majestic. Do you challenge him?”

Ugh, wrong conclusion. I'm not suicidal. Master Raiden quickly backed himself out before there could be further misunderstandings:

“No, of course not. The Majestic is the only ruler here. What title do you give to mages?” the Prince tried again, but this question also lead to a lack of understanding.

“We all have magic.” Ruok thought it unnecessary to add that a title was irrelevant.

“Why do you serve the Majestic?”

Without emotion, Ruok replied, “The Majestic protects us, we serve him. A great honour. Many questions, Raiden.” Ruok was clearly losing patience and Prince Raiden did not want to make this man his enemy. So he picked up another book. “Let's continue. I was only curious. This world is very strange to me.”

When a small bag had been filled with crystals, Master Raiden decided that this was enough material for now. It would take many hours to work through it.

“I think it's time for me to leave. It will take a some time to read all these books. Tell the Majestic that I want to say goodbye.”

Ruok's eyes froze as he telepathed through the request. The Great Gray had not met with Master Raiden again since their first meeting and he did not seem to care about a polite, official farewell. Ruok relayed the words of the dragon:

“Raiden, homunculus, you can come and go as you please. That is what the Majestic says.”

Hmm, a little lacking in style. “Then tell the Majestic that I will return to Naganor to prepare for the search. It will take some time to update my knowledge, so do not expect me to return soon. But the first step has been made and more steps will follow with care. Deliver my sincere gratitude to the Majestic for his hospitality and generous help.” Prince Raiden was trying to be polite, but Ruok did not appreciate his attempt. “Many words, Raiden.”

In mild despair, Master Raiden shrugged. “Just tell the Majestic, ‘thank you’ and it will be some time before I come back.”

Then he left the dragon's palace and Eryn transported them both back to Naganor without incident.

4. A new duty roster

As soon as they had set foot on home ground, Master Raiden immediately summoned Master Eriwen and Master Calwas. Eryn had been expressly informed that their journey and their discoveries were the subject of extreme secrecy. The less people knew about it, the better. But to be able to utilise other mages for the lesser work, there was an official version, which read:

After Master and his student had not managed to access the Nimrod through the tunnel, they had traveled to Ysryn and there they had gathered comprehensive information about the Midland, as the Nimrod had been called in earlier days. These documents should now be analysed with the purpose of finding another way to enter the Nimrod. In doing so they should pay special attention to the old maps and the magical places on them. At all costs, Master Raiden wanted to avoid that any news of his discoveries should reach the ears of other mages, and especially those of Master Elderon. Only his loyal men should be informed.

He will not be suspicious. For fifty years now we have been trying every method we can think of, yet without any result. So he will not know that I have actually succeeded. Well, the dragon didn't raise my hopes too much, but he hasn't thought deeply about the soulban yet, and I still hope there will be an answer somewhere in his immense knowledge. There is a solution for everything, even if it takes half a century to find it.

Master Raiden had been surprised by the version of the Great War that the dragon had given him. Crucial aspects of his descriptions had been completely different from those which were common knowledge in the minds of men.

The winner writes the book of history. It is questionable whether we truly won this war. Better to put it this way: We have composed our own story, and the Great Gray had no voice in that story, and as such a myriad of mistakes and untruths have found there way in. But that is the past. My focus is on the future.

My first goal will be to travel to the remains of the Golden Tower. If we want to find a trace of the key, then it will be there. Perhaps Eryn will have another vision. His first already revealed some very interesting information. This gift can not be harnessed, but it presents itself mostly with auspicious places, and the Golden Tower is certainly one of these.

As his thoughts rested on Eryn, Master Raiden was also reminded of his student’s magical shortcomings.

It is necessary that he improves in fighting magic, a fact that became only too apparent as we were set upon by the dragon's lapdogs. And the Majestic even warns me of much greater threats. I should really take that seriously. I can not always be watching the puppy, just because he burns his butt with his own fire.

Master Raiden took a fresh piece of paper and wrote the word 'ROSTER' across the top. Let's see. Lately, I have left him on much too long a leash. And now he allows himself more and more effronteries, talking back almost as impertinently as the unteachable Sir Ravenor. I will fill his time very well. First, and most importantly...

Lengthy sessions on the topics of combat magic, spells and block techniques appeared on the sheet.

Every now and then I too need his help. He has to learn about the Nimrod just as much as I do. So from here: service in the citadel. And the pen drew a large time window until late into the evening. And healing spells, he has let them slide a bit lately. And then I need something else, for discipline... Compared with the obedience of Ruok... The Majestic commands and he obeys unconditionally without comment or any kind of judgement. No contradictions, no long face.

And then the Prince had an malicious idea, even for his standards. The thought alone amused him, and a broad grin spread across his face as he wrote down the words 'basic drills'.

On that note, I should now rid the good Lord Boron from the unwelcome task of dealing with Ravenor. I want to try something special with him anyway. Is it possible to use artefacts to upgrade an unmagical so that he is capable of acting as a combat mage? Such an experiment is expensive, even just considering the basic material for the artefact alone. The precious stones, needed to carry the spells, are worth a fortune on their own. Nevertheless, it is an interesting experiment and the Unmagical is ambitious enough to face the challenge.

Other services were added to the roster, and soon a second sheet of paper was filled the same way as the first one. When he had finished, the Prince hesitated for a brief moment, then he wrote on this second roster the same words: 'basic drills'.

He has not misbehaved lately, but it can’t hurt either.

Lord Boron had come over for lunch. They were alone in the hall, sitting at the table, and Prince Raiden was talking about the Nimrod. The Gray Wolf had been his loyal confidant for years and beyond doubt the secret was safe with him. When they had finished the meal, Prince Raiden drew two sheets from the pocket of his jacket.

“I want these schedules to be integrated into the daily routine. How is Sir Ravenor doing?”

Lord Boron took the papers and began skimming over them.

“Sir Ravenor? My Prince, I was pleasantly surprised. Extremely exemplary. I almost regret giving the young man back to you. I would never have believed that he would develop in such a way.” Then the commandant's gaze fixed on a point on the sheet. “My Prince, you punish Sir Ravenor with basic drills? As I said, he has done nothing wrong.”

“I am not punishing him, I am just reminding him of some basic values of military training, such as discipline and obedience. But hand me the paper again, I will give the good Sir Ravenor a small reward, so he won't be too dejected. To be honest, this time the basic drills are Eryn's fault. Lately, he allows himself too many liberties and an active refresher of discipline seems necessary. This time Sir Ravenor must endure it for no just reason, only that Eryn is not so alone. Well, the world is not fair.” The Black Prince gathered ink and pen by magic, corrected the plan and made several copies. While His Highness was busy, Lord Boron remarked, “You increase the wickedness of this world, adding your part to it, my Prince.”

Prince Raiden handed his commander a copy of the duty roster, and kept one for himself. “Be careful Lord Boron, do I hear a hidden accusation there?”

In feigned exaggeration, Lord Boron assured, “No, my Prince. I would never dare to question your orders... But I'll bet fifty pieces of gold, that it will end in escalation.”

“I wouldn't even bet against it,” confessed the Black Prince, showing an innocent face.

“Actually, it's kind of a test. From the moment I had the thought, the idea seemed very amusing to me.”

The rosters disappeared into Lord Boron's jacket. “My Prince, I am surprised that you concern yourself with such things, considering your precious time,” remarked the commandant of the Guard rather mockingly.

“Yes, sometimes I am amazed myself, the kind of low work I have to undertake, to ensure that everything runs smoothly. I haven’t written such plans for years now. Or has it even been decades?”

In the meantime, Eryn was busy with work. Master Raiden had sent him to the garrison, where he should help Master Eriwen. The book collection they had brought back from the Nimrod had to be drawn out of the crystals and set onto paper. A normal book was easier to work with, and if a crystal was damaged, then there would be a second version. This work was lengthy and boring. By now Eryn had automated the process in such a way, that he could occupy his thoughts with something else as he worked. As long as the Prince was sitting in the citadel, Eryn dared to vent his anger.

Great, in the dragon's palace, I was not allowed to go into the library. I was excluded and had to kill the time just waiting. There I could do nothing, considering my options. Either to be in the palace, naked, and without magic, running through the cold passages. Or to sit outside in the shadow of the palace, with the wild beasts lurking around me in the dragon's garden, their sharp teeth ready to sink into the flesh of any innocent human being. In these miserable circumstances I get granted generous free time, and here, where I could do so much, yes here he once again finds a thousand boring jobs for me to do. Do we have no damned beginners in the garrison who can bring crystal knowledge to paper? No, it's me, who has to do it. Damn Pox!

Eryn devoted himself to the task not a moment longer than commanded. At the end of service he immediately disappeared to the citadel. By now he could travel the distance in record time. He simply hopped forwards with tunnel jumps. 150 metres was the longest jump he had managed so far and he

did not believe this to be the limit of his potential. Together with Master Eriwen, he had set up a fixed tunnel between the garrison and the citadel, but everyone who wanted to use it had to sign up and the Prince had secured the exit with several spells. After all, he did not want people appearing unexpectedly in front of his home. Whoever came through the tunnel was automatically perceived by the Prince. Another reason for Eryn to jump through his own tunnels.

Once at Naganor, he went straight to the kitchen and dined there. Then he went up to his room. Immediately he noticed a full leather purse on the table and a note underneath.

The bet, it occurred to him. The Prince keeps his word and pays his debt. But he has promised me something else too. With a sense of foreboding, Eryn drew the note from under the purse. The heading was no surprise: Duty Roster.

The first thing he noticed was the length of the schedules. Uh, that’s a damn lot, but it's definitely not uninteresting: fighting magic and blocking with Master Eriwen, healing with Master Lionas, bans with Master Calwas, and of course, no shortage of service with the Prince.

And then he discovered another two hour session early in the morning. Basic drills? Three days a week? But when he read who would teach this, he simply could not believe it. There indeed it was written, Sir Askir Orten. This must be a mistake. Eryn had not actually intended to visit Master Raiden that evening, but this point needed to be clarified at once. After all, the new plan came into effect the very next day. In the entrance hall he came across Ravenor, who had just ended his service. He too was holding a piece of paper in his hand. They exchanged a few words and compared the duty rosters. Only seldom did they agree so much. These basic drills simply had to be a mistake, and they would visit Prince Raiden immediately, to clear up the strange situation.

Their approach had not been hidden from Mater Raiden. Ah, the rebels are storming the castle. I must control myself and be serious. This won’t be easy.

Then the door to the study swung open and his two protégées greeted him with an exemplary attitude. They always show particular zeal when they want something. But today they will be met with deaf ears. “What is your business? Speak!” As if I don't know already, hehe.

Sir Ravenor had the higher rank, so he spoke first. “With respect, my Prince, I received the new roster today, and...”

Prince Raiden interrupted him and completed the sentence, “... and certainly you want to thank me for that weekly service in Arvon. My brother, the King, has so often filled my ears with praise for your work, that I could not help but fulfil his wishes. With the new tunnel, the distance is no longer a problem and so I have finally agreed to that service.”

Now Ravenor could do nothing else but to eloquently express his thanks.

“My Prince, this truly is a great honour. I am very grateful to be granted this duty. But, My Prince, if I may still remark on something else on the duty roster. I was very surprised when I read that...” Ravenor tried for the second time, but he was still looking for the right words when Prince Raiden once again kindly helped him out.

“Certainly you are asking yourself how you can participate in magic combat exercises as an unmagical. Don’t worry, I have a rather progressive idea I would like to check out in practice. Maybe I can equip you with artefacts, allowing you to achieve the same level as a combat mage. An ambitious and expensive experiment. We will have a lot to try out, and if the attempt is crowned with success, this will offer many exciting new possibilities. Now that magical talent is becoming rarer and rarer, one has to be open to new ideas.” Master Raiden could scarcely resist a grin, how artfully he had once again taken the wind out of Ravenor’s sails, and now the young officer was struggling for words, far from the matter he truly wanted to speak about.

“Thank you, my Prince. I can only repeat myself. This is a great honour that you have thought of me in these extraordinary tasks. An award in itself.”

Thereupon Eryn jumped in bravely, “My Prince, I too would like to thank you for the new duty roster. It includes many very interesting and important subjects, but by no stretch of my imagination am I able to explain one special point on the schedule. Basic drills – probably a mistake?”

Ah, now the cat is out of the bag. “Take a look at the signature down there?”

A short silence followed, and Master Raiden demanded, “And?”

“You have personally signed it, my Prince,” remarked Ravenor aptly.

“And do I make mistakes, Eryn?” The question had a dangerously friendly tone.

“No, Master Raiden,” Eryn confirmed at once, realising the Prince was enjoying the game.

“Then surely it would be correct, what is written there.”

But the young men did not give up so easily, and Eryn dared to point out: “With all due respect, my Prince, but what exactly are we going to learn from this basic education?”

Master Raiden was obviously enjoying himself, knowing the two of them couldn't win.

“Well, you tell me.” He nodded to Sir Ravenor, who summarised briefly: “In basic drills the new recruits are taught military basics, simple exercises and general physical fitness.”

“And apart from the physical requirements...?” the Lord of Naganor probed. They just don’t guess what this is about. “My Prince, giving accurate reports, getting to know the commanders, and following orders,” Sir Ravenor added, quoting the military regulations.

“Exactly, gentlemen.” Their irritated expressions told Master Raiden that the penny had not yet dropped, so he helped them along: “Orders must be followed, without question, and without expressing one’s own opinion, or even asking for an explanation.”

“My Prince, that is well known to us. It will not be necessary to treat us like fresh recruits,“ Eryn was now becoming desperate, and Master Raiden leaned back, relaxed, and remarked pointedly: “There! It's happening again. You are debating an order. Just the fact that you are both here, proves that I am right. Refreshing the basics can’t hurt, it was so long ago for both of you.”

Now Ravenor found his voice again: “My Prince, may I at least know, what I am being punished for?”

“You are an officer of the Guard, and you understand 'duty' as a punishment?”

“No, of course not, my Prince. But why must it be with Sir Askir Orten?” Ravenor retreated miserably, while Prince Raiden's perfectly innocent face was absolutely convincing.

“Sir Askir is a very correct and capable officer. He is absolutely the right person for the task... and why do I once again have the feeling that I have to justify my decisions to my subordinates?” Then his tone became hard and decisive, “Let me ask you one thing. Did you dare talk to me in this manner when you were mere recruits?”

The battle was lost and they finally surrendered their weapons. “No, my Prince.”

But the reprimand went on, “A bad habit that has taken over lately. And to remind you how to behave properly towards your superiors, and not just ordinary superiors, but to me, the Prince of Ardeen personally, basic drills have to be refreshed. Do you finally understand!?”

There was nothing left for them but to give a depressed consent. Then they were sent away with a curt “Dismissed!” and the defeated rebels withdrew.

Once back in Ravenor's room, a safe distance away from the Prince, they fired off their anger. “Tell me, Eryn, what is the unknown thing I have done wrong? Lord Boron has praised me several times for my work and now this!”

The cause of the affair was quickly explained. “This has nothing to do with you. I would say it was my fault this time, and you have just been dragged in. Just as it always happened to me,” he added with an apologetic grin, before continuing, “But the term 'fault' is a little excessive to describe my deed. I only won a bet, but that was not to the liking of the high Lord. He already warned me there would be consequences, and he keeps his promises, as you know. That's the price for winning a hundred pieces of gold.”

Ravenor eyes went big. “You won a hundred gold pieces from him? For what?”

“I blocked one of his spells with my magic shield,” Eryn announced, not without pride, but then admitted, “I had a good deal of luck on my side, but it's the result that counts in the end. And today, lying right under the purse with the prize money, I find the new duty roster. It's no coincidence.”

“You could give me a part of the profit, for the fact that I am being punished for your actions. Recruits training with Sir Askir, that's quite harsh.”

But Eryn did not even consider it. “All too often I have been punished unfairly for your misdemeanours. Besides, didn't you always want to be in the Third Regiment? Now you have succeeded, thanks to my help. Finally accepted by the lordlings.”

“Shut your mouth, bringer of evil.” They had to take part in basic drills the following day, something they hadn't had to do for a very long time. They had to report for duty with standard equipment very early in the morning, not to mention the fact that Eryn had to wear a magic-blocker. A bracelet, which he himself had helped to enchant the day before. A modification of the normal models, which allowed the magic to only be activated at appropriate times. So Eryn had to wear the damn thing all the time and no one had to control whether he put it on or not.

“Well, now you have a lovely bracelet too. I wonder if you can collect them?” Ravenor joked inappropriately about their situation, but Eryn was too pissed off to answer.

A short time later, they stood in rank and file on the parade ground. The rest of the squad consisted of green nobility recruits, and before them posed the important Sir Askir Orten. The relationship between Ravenor and Askir was still not particularly friendly, but with time they had accepted each other, and they usually went on first name terms, as soon as they were off duty. Ravenor had hoped he could have a word with Askir before the lesson – just to sort out a few details – but unfortunately the opportunity did not arise. Sir Askir had immediately ordered the men to line up and now he commanded: “Report your rank and name!”

Ravenor was the first in the line and felt the bile coming up his throat. But he stepped forward and reported exemplarily:

“Sir Ravenor, personal adjutant of Prince Raiden, the commander-in-chief of the Guard, at your service, Sir Askir!” Then he stepped back to his place again. Next was Eryn's turn. “Eryn, mage, and personal student of Master Raiden, the Lord of Naganor, at your service, Sir Askir!”

But here Sir Askir had a different opinion, and, slightly condescendingly, he corrected: “Here you are not among the mages. Sign up with your correct rank in the Guard.”

Eryn would have liked to show Sir Askir that a mage is always a mage, but that was impossible with the magic-blocker around the wrist. So he had no choice but to play the game. “Regular Eryn at your service, Sir Askir!”

Satisfied, the Orten scion kept going, working his way along the whole line, listening to each recruit's announcement. Eryn and Ravenor were standing side by side and stared straight ahead but they had begun talking in quiet voices.

“This is a farce. We're wasting our time here,” Eryn said, peeved.

“Your merit, my dear friend. Make your complaint to the Prince, he certainly has open ears for your justified request.”

“Three times a week is an insult to my intellect. Even once would be far too much. Basic drills for recruits. Pah, those imbeciles can’t even speak three words without stuttering,” Eryn went on complaining, but Ravenor seemed to be taking the whole thing with surprisingly great humour:

“There were at least six words in the introductions and in my case even a few more.”

The man next to Eryn made the mistake of turning his head nervously in their direction. That drew Sir Askir’s attention towards them and he noticed that they were talking. He came over promptly and drew himself up threateningly to his full height before them.

“You will only talk when you are asked to! According to regulation, your offence will be punished with five lashes. After the exercises, both of you will go to the pole where your sentence will be executed.”

That immediately killed Ravenor's humorous view of their situation, and he didn’t want to swallow this degradation so easily. “Sir Askir, you cannot

mean this seriously. I'm an officer...”

But the other cut him off: “Ten lashes, Sir Ravenor, and not another word. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Sir Askir,” you will regret this. He treats me like a lousy recruit. In the next sword fight, I will beat the crap out of you.

The two hours passed agonisingly slowly, but they managed to avoid any further punishment. As expected, the lashes were painful, but as soon as Eryn had access to his magic again, he could quickly eliminate the aftermath of the magical punishment. But the wounds to their pride were somewhat deeper. Then they parted ways for the remainder of the day.

In the short pause after lunch, Ravenor looked for Sir Askir and found him, as expected, in the common room of the Third Regiment.

He went directly to the other, and immediately came to the point:

“A word, Sir Askir.”

But Askir did not want any quarrelling and said, “I am only doing my duty, Sir Ravenor, and you will do us both a favour if you contribute your part to it.”

Ravenor grabbed a chair and seated himself directly opposite to the Orten sprout.

“The whole thing is a ridiculous joke, which I don’t find funny.”

Askir leaned slightly forward, “I didn’t choose this job either, but I have very strict instructions from above.” He underlined the words with a raised thumb. But the Prince's bastard replied fiercely: “You already have so many positives in Sir Haerkin’s books, you don’t have to kiss his ass by punishing tiny trivialities with such strict adherence to rules.”

But Askir shook his head lightly. “You misunderstand me. I have my orders from the highest up possible and have to judge your behaviour strictly according to the rules and later on to make a status report. So don’t give me any reasons, for I will do my duty as I am ordered to.”

Ravenor clenched his teeth together, causing his jaw muscles to bulge out. He pondered the situation carefully. I can’t exclude the possibility that the Prince is watching us with one of those magical eyes while we are on duty. Askir is caught in the same game as Eryn and I.

He rose furiously, “Lick me, Askir.”

But the young Sir Orten remained calm: “This would be worth twenty during service time, but such primitive utterances from a commoner simply bounce off me.”

Ravenor hurried out the door slamming it so hard that the door frame was left shaking violently.

The exercises and services that followed were challenging and informative, so Eryn didn’t waste any further thought on basic drills until he was inevitably called to enter the parade ground.

This time even Ravenor managed to get through the two hours without a mistake, but Eryn copped five blows for improper clothing. On the way to the pole, Eryn was rather annoyed by the trifle.

This is just ridiculous. He had taken a small bag full of crystals with him in the morning, so he could give them to Master Lionas later. According to Sir Askir, this small, inconspicuous bag doesn’t belong to the basic equipment and is therefore breaking the rules. Where is that written anyway? If I carry more baggage than ordered, that's my business – or not.

A “Let me explain...” lecture had doubled the punishment and only after Askir had finished was Eryn finally allowed to leave for his treatment at the pole. When he entered the officer's mess hall later that day, he immediately caught sight of the message board. Usually, instructions for the men were written here, but now there was a large E and an R and below that the numbers 15 and 10. Those arseholes are betting on our punishments, Eryn realised angrily, and his mood worsened. Fortunately, no one was in the room, otherwise Eryn would have vented his anger on them. But the following lesson on battle magic calmed him down.

The next two days were completely free of basic drills, and Eryn prepared for his lesson on healing magic until late at night. He went to bed much too late so he was sleeping deeply when Ravenor woke him the next morning. Without him Eryn would have completely overslept.

“We're late, hurry up,” urged Ravenor, who otherwise didn't seem to be in such a hurry.

With a yawn, Eryn reassured him: “We still have fifteen minutes. I can easily tunnel there in five minutes. I've practised that long enough,” he added with inner conviction and such confidence that he dispelled Ravenor's concerns too.

But to be able to weave a spell, they had to first leave the citadel through the main gate. The protective spells in the citadel prevented unauthorised sorcery. Once outside, Eryn started to access his veins. He made the first jump, then the second, and third. But when he tried to make a fourth jump, his magic was suddenly gone.

“Damn, is it already time?” he asked alarmed, but Ravenor shook his head, “No, we still have five minutes.”

Eryn felt like spewing, “Shit – the magic has already gone. We can’t get there in time.”

They ran at full speed, but arrived on the drill ground a measly little minute after the beginning of the exercise.

“You're late,” Sir Askir remarked.

“Apologies, Sir Askir, we were held up unexpectedly.” That sounded very convincing. Almost like, 'The Prince personally did not let us leave sooner', but Ravenor did not dare to lie so brazenly. Apart from that, the righteous Sir Askir was not susceptible to such excuses anyway.

“I wasn’t informed that you would come later. The punishment for this offence: five lashes each.”

Shove your rules up your ass. “Yes, Sir Askir.” It was raining and their armour was soon spattered with mud. The new recruits didn’t manage to parade properly, leaving Ravenor and Eryn extremely displeased. In the past, they had not done better themselves, but that was a long time ago, and now they just felt irritated by the eternal repetitions. Even before the end of the schedule Sir Askir generously sent them a few minutes earlier to the pole, because they had to be straight back for their next service. The rest of the recruits had to continue devoting themselves to the exercise.

The five strokes were quickly healed and forgotten, but when they came back across the square, Ravenor whispered to Eryn, “Clean the armour with magic right in front of them. Even Askir will vomit when he sees how easy it can be done.” This little demonstration of true power brought them a bunch of envious glances and was a balm for their hurt pride.

In the evening, the two of them sat together in Ravenor's room and started making plans.

“Eryn, it can’t go on like this. Is there no chance of bewitching Sir Askir with a spell?”

Carefully, Eryn scanned the room for magic eyes and other spying magic. When he found nothing, he replied:

“What do you think? If I had something in mind, I would have done it long ago. Weaving a spell on Askir is too conspicuous. Anyone who has any clue, will immediately discover it and I'm sure there is a black eye somewhere out there.”

“We don't need anything spectacular, just a spell, if he would just ignore us, fail to see us, not pay us notice...” As Ravenor continued, it showed that he had learned a lot about magic, “You don't need to

bewitch him. An object in his possession would suffice, which would only become active if, for example, he comes close us. Just like your magic-blockers. Doesn’t the enchantment of the armour dominate other weaker magic, if scanned?”

“You are almost a mage,” Eryn was surprised by Ravenor’s knowledge. “The idea isn't bad at all. If I make it so inconspicuous that it could only be noticed with the most careful scrutiny, we may get away with it. Besides, Master Raiden is very busy at the moment and I don’t think that anybody else would make the effort to look carefully for spells, just because we are no longer being punished at the lousy basic drills. I think I can find a solution to our problem.”

Just the thought of improving their situation so drastically motivated Eryn to unimaginable zeal. But his time was very limited at present, and the need to act secretly cost several more days before he came up with a final plan.

In the meantime, additional 'points' were ever increasing their tallies. Eryn's account now marked at forty-five, and Ravenor was a bit behind with a noble thirty points.

It was high time for a drastic change. The spell itself wasn’t too difficult to weave, and since the magic didn’t have to be particularly strong, a little piece of Askir's equipment would be sufficient. Eryn chose the thin leather band used for fastening his badge. He prepared another such ribbon and exchanged it at a favourable moment while Sir Askir was out without armour. In five minutes everything had been accomplished, and as a precaution Eryn cleared the memories of the three men who had been in vicinity of Askir's lodgings. So there were no witnesses who could have revealed him.

Magic is truly a fine thing. You do not need to wait for the right moment to approach your goal unseen. There are so many ways of concealment: making oneself invisible, paralysis magic, memory erasure, distorted perception. A rich selection, especially when dealing with poor unmagicals, hehe.

The next day, life was much more pleasant. Sir Askir was distracted, and he showed no particular interest in their actions. If they had acted very obtrusively, Sir Askir would have noticed despite the magic, but of course they behaved well. Under normal circumstances, it was simply impossible to fulfil all the regulations and that’s why they needed to use this little aid. So Eryn saw nothing reprehensible about their actions.

Three training sessions passed without either of them being found guilty of anything. On the fourth day, Master Eriwen appeared by the side of the square and watched them for a while. Eryn focused all his attention on the boring exercises, and was eager to follow Sir Askir's commands.

After the basic drills had finished and they were leaving

the square, Eryn whispered:

“They smell something. Did you see Master Eriwen, as he coincidentally passed by this morning?”

“Do you think he noticed something?”

“The spell is well covered, I don’t think he's discovered it. If he wasn't looking for it specifically... And anyway, he doesn’t know where he has to look more closely. But we can't let our thoughts give us away, because he can certainly scan those.”

Ravenor grinned, “I have an absolutely blank mind during these trivial and tiresome exercises. Anything else would be a waste of my genius. It’s kind of like sleeping while standing. Even physically it's not really exhausting.”

Eryn agreed, “I remember it being worse. But that was probably because of Sir Galden. The Third Regiment is full of complete losers, but this we've always known.”

They were grumbling about the Third Regiment, and it seemed as if this had conjured the appearance of Sir Haerkin. Eryn and Ravenor saluted and hoped that the commander of the Third Regiment would pass by, but instead he stopped to talk to them.

“You are well aware that your behaviour falls back on the honour of my regiment?”

“Yes, Sir Haerkin.” He is like an evil spirit – he never passes by without harassing us.

“It is amazing indeed, that you actually manage to behave yourself in such a disciplined way. How many lessons have you have taken, without seeing the pole?”

“Four, Sir Haerkin.” Come on, get lost and leave us alone.

“Tell me, how did you manage this?” Mistrust was well noticeable in his words. “I had always thought, you don’t even know the rules. So how can you pay attention to them?”

“With great effort, Sir Haerkin.” There are always ways... hehe.

Sir Haerkin tired of his game and let them go.

Scarcely out of earshot, Ravenor voiced his opinion of the incident.

“That arsehole. Isn't it amazing, we play their game, obey their rules and it still doesn’t suit them.”

“I would say, they all made bets on us and when nothing happens... they are disappointed,” Eryn speculated.

In the afternoon, when Eryn had duty with the Prince, he answered with short sentences and only when asked. Even when the Black Prince fell into one of his explaining moods, he could not tempt Eryn to take part in the conversation. After all, it was his I-will-also-allow-myself-some-words-from-time-to-time attitude that had earned him these unpleasant extra drills in the first place, and if there was a way to end these lessons one day, then he had to behave according to the regulations. Polite, respectful and a bit offended – only what was absolutely necessary.

They went through the books, looking for all kinds of hints: historical references, geographic conditions, magical places...

Then, out of the blue, Prince Raiden raised the precarious subject.

“One thing has me wondering lately: Have you cast a spell upon Sir Askir?”

That was not far off the mark, but Eryn had prepared himself for such a moment and he filled his thoughts with innocent matters. And he could give the answer with a pure conscience:

“No, my Prince, I have not.” And that is the truth. He had only covered the small leather strip with a spell, not Sir Askir. Fortunately for Eryn the Prince had not asked the right question.

“Hmmm,” Master Raiden muttered, but with that he let the matter rest. Some hours later that day a meeting took place between Prince Raiden and Lord Boron and their conversation arrived at the subject of Eryn and Ravenor.

“For how long do you think it appropriate for the two of them to have to take part in basic drills? It almost seems to me that their knowledge is already refreshed. They have not committed a single rule offence in the past few days.”

Prince Raiden's eyebrow pulled upwards. “Ha! I will believe many things, but not that. You really trust those two?”

“You think they are up to something, my Prince? But Master Eriwen checked them recently.”

The Prince narrowed his eyes to small slits. “That's true, Master Eriwen hasn’t discovered anything. But that doesn’t mean that there isn't anything!” It would not be the first time and the two of them together can develop some rather devious plans.

Lord Boron was an honest man and he never thought too badly of others.

“You are too distrustful, my Prince. The young men just know how to behave themselves. Too bad, the bets have lost their attraction.”

Even Prince Raiden had noticed that the entire garrison had fallen into a betting fever. Money was placed on everything: Who of them would end up ahead with the higher number of lashes? How many per day? What violations... and whatever else anyone could think to bet on in this context.

They have a certain charm – those bets. I was thinking about getting involved myself, but that wouldn’t look good. Besides, I am caught up in the matter. I am the one laying down the rules after all.

“Lord Boron, as always, you believe in honour and sincerity, but I tell you this, there's something fishy going on here.”

“Is it your magical feeling which is telling you this, my Prince?” Lord Boron seemed to consider his previous assessment.

“No, my instinct – and I would bet on that. One hundred gold pieces, that they are cheating. And if their little advantage disappears, whatever it may be, you will see how they fail miserably and daily once again.”

“Hmm?” Lord Boron pondered, scratching his head. “One hundred pieces of gold, that's high pitched. I would only bet fifty, my Prince.”

“Ha, you don’t trust them either,” the Lord of Naganor pronounced triumphantly.

“Well, not really, my Prince, but somehow I feel sorry for them. Basic training like simple recruits, that is already harsh, and that with the additional punishments... On the other hand, the whole garrison had their fun with it.”

It won’t kill them. “Let's keep the troops happy. I will show you that I am right and you can leave the fifty gold pieces lying on the table right now. I will continue to let them suffer, at least for a while... Because Eryn really was too insolent towards me. But I don’t want to be too mean and I will set a limit. That will certainly also push up the bets...”

“...Let's say a hundred is the limit, then basic drills are over.”

At first Lord Boron didn’t understand, so he asked, “One hundred what, my Prince?”

“One hundred lashes for violations of the regulations of course, so the garrison can generously make their bets. You know how it is, bread and games make the men happy – except for two of them. But some sacrifices must be made.”

Approximately half of the morning drill had already passed and Eryn yawned sleepily, while Sir Askir tried once again to teach the simplest basics to the recruits. Eryn focused his attention instead on his surroundings and what was happening there. Another five units had entered the training field. Meanwhile, none of the high ranked officers had appeared. Surely they are all still asleep. I would like to be doing the same. Then a figure appeared from the direction of the main gate and headed straight for the parade ground. The man was still far off, but Eryn was suddenly alarmed.

“Shit, Master Raiden is coming!” he whispered to Ravenor, who replied, “You said he doesn't suspect anything and doesn't have time to take care of these matters anyway.”

“I don’t think that he knows anything, otherwise he would have scolded me yesterday.”

“Do you think he’ll discover the spell?”

“If he starts to search – for sure. Most importantly, we have to control our thoughts.”

In the meantime the presence of the Prince had begun to be noticed in the square, and the first units stood in attention and greeted the Commander-in-Chief of the Black Guard. He did not pay particular attention to this, and headed very purposefully towards Sir Askir's unit.

The young Sir Orten was just shouting: “Attention! The Prince of Ardeen, Commander-in-Chief of the Black Guard. Salute!”

But not even Sir Askir was worth any attention. Prince Raiden remained a few steps in front of the unit – right at eye level with his two students. The Prince, of course, disliked shouting orders across the barrack yard, so his words came by telepathy.

“Eryn, step forward!” “Yes, my Prince.” He made two exact steps forward and then stopped with a second salute. I serve with devotion in the Guard. I honour, my Prince. Discipline and respect are the cornerstones...

Prince Raiden interrupted the laudable thoughts and spoke in a dangerously soft and hissing tone: “Eryn, do you have something to say, or shall I start some investigations?”

For a moment Eryn hesitated, but the Prince would anyway track down his little secret, so he decided to admit it... in the hope of mitigating circumstances.

“My Prince, the leather ribbon for attaching the rank badges to Sir Askir's armour is enchanted.” Twice spells struck him lightly on the cheek. “Well done.”

The silence felt very uncomfortable as Master Raiden examined the spell closely before removing it. “Interesting variant and well hidden. You are progressing in the art, even if you use your knowledge for the wrong purposes.” Then Master Raiden turned to Sir Askir, who, in the meantime, had figured out by himself what had happened. “Sir Askir, what do the regulations prescribe as punishment for deceiving and manipulating a superior?”

“My Prince, ten strokes and five hours at the pole,” he quoted, not without some deep satisfaction.

“We have no time for the pole. Eryn has more important things to do. But the blows will be executed. Make it twenty. And if I catch you with something like that again, then it will be two hundred. Got that?”

“Yes, my Prince,” Eryn answered abashed. Master Raiden nodded sympathetically and sent Eryn back with a wave of his hand, before turning to Ravenor.

“And your part in the story?” Despite the bitter defeat, Eryn tried to save Ravenor. There was no need for both of them had to be sacrificed. “My Prince, I alone did the spell...”

But Master Raiden raised a hand in warning that Eryn should keep his mouth shut and asked Sir Askir instead: “What do the regulations say if someone dares to speak unasked?”

“Five lashes, my Prince.”

The total was added quickly . “Then we now have twenty-five for Eryn.” The prize was increasing much too fast and Eryn decided to keep his mouth shut. Twenty-five is pretty tough and I have no doubts that Prince Raiden is not afraid to go higher.

The Prince called Ravenor out of the row, “I'm waiting for an answer, Sir Ravenor.”

The situation was hopeless and Ravenor followed Eryn's example and confessed his complicity.

“My Prince, it was my idea to conceal the spell.”

“Really? An amazing concept for an unmagical. I should almost reward you for such an outstanding solution, but your behaviour must be severely punished according to regulations. What is appropriate in this case, Sir Askir?”

“Encouraging others with an offence – five blows, my Prince,” the Orten offspring helped out gladly.

“Thank you, Sir Askir, you can continue with the drill now, and these two gentlemen, who are a disgrace to your unit, will continue to be judged severely according to the regulations.”

“Yes, my Prince. Salute!”

When the Prince had gone, Sir Askir gave a motivational speech.

“Men, it is a great honour that the Prince of Ardeen has specially chosen our unit for an inspection. Even if the behaviour of two men bring shame upon us, the discipline of the others did not escape the Prince. Making a positive impression on the Prince as a fresh recruit is not easy. But you are on the right track...”

Eryn felt bile in his mouth. Does that idiot really believe that Prince Raiden would have come here because of these morons. That was especially for us – the shameful ones. He didn't even notice the others. And you, noble Askir, better pray that you never draw the benevolent attention of the Prince upon you. You can only imagine, what that really means. For Master Raiden this is a game, but it is my skin that gets beaten. And it is damn painful, even if they are just magical blows.

“...Discipline and correct behaviour are the basic fundamentals of a fighting troop...” Well, how many battles have you fought already? Oh, I remember – he killed one wyvern. Shall I applaud? “...Unquestioning obedience and strict adherence to commands are essential to forge an army together into a smoothly functioning and powerful structure, which, in combat, is ultimately decisive for a victory...”

Blah blah blah. Can I go straight to the pole, so that I don’t have to listen to that crap any more? “...Keep my words in mind. Especially you of aristocratic descent, who have been chosen for higher goals since your birth. You will surely stand in front of other men one-day, to whom you will also have to convey these values.”

It is bad enough that Askir is standing in front of us. Can’t we just carry on with the basic drills, they are just as important as these moral aspects – if not of more importance, and they are certainly more bearable.

At last Eryn's wishes were granted and the exercises continued.

Finally they were dismissed and Eryn was already on his way to receive his punishment, when he heard one of the recruits dare to say loudly and clearly in Ravenor’s direction:

“Those two commoners drag our whole unit into the mud. What are they doing here anyway? It brings us shame.”

He didn't have the chance to utter any more insults, because Ravenor leapt like a savage beast towards the lordling and held him by the throat. “How dare you, you little bastard? I won't listen to such crap from someone like you!” The situation escalated as the recruit made the big mistake of trying to hit him. Ravenor easily blocked the blow and in return delivered a hard punch, sending

the young man to the ground.

“Sir Ravenor, stop that immediately!” interrupted Sir Askir, but when Ravenor was enraged he was not a reasonable man.

“Sir Askir, I am off duty, so keep yourself out of it. I will not allow my authority to be questioned by a coward like that.”

“That may be, but I am higher in rank and this intolerable behaviour will be sanctioned.”

Ravenor looked as if he wanted to beat Sir Askir too, but luckily the noise attracted Sir Draken, who straightened the situation out, very much to Ravenor's disadvantage.

His deed brought him twenty-five additional lashes and that made a total of thirty, overtaking Eryn’s score that day by five.

Eryn was the first one at the pole and couldn't wait until Ravenor had finished getting his penalty, so there was no one to heal Ravenor's pain afterwards – except his little healing ring and that brought only scant relief. Extremely arduously, Ravenor dragged himself to his next service – combat magic with Master Eriwen.

“You're late, Sir Ravenor,” the mage remarked, noticing Ravenor’s problem at once.

“Excuse me, Master Eriwen. Punishment at the pole.”

The mage gave him a pitiful look. “Like this I can’t do anything with you.” And then the fire-mage removed the magical pain and Ravenor showed him much gratitude for this relief.

In the garrison betting offices, a heated discussion had arisen about whether or not Ravenor's twenty-five should be added to the overall tally, as they had been sentenced outside of service. In the end it was decided that the situation had only been created by what had previously happened during service. And so, on that ill-fated day, thirty were added to Ravenor’s tally and twenty-five to Eryn's, causing both of them to crack the fifty mark.

But it was one of those days that never seemed to end. Eryn and Ravenor stretched out in Ravenor's room, weary and exhausted from the day's exercises. They had both had a lot of fighting lessons, not to mention the unpleasant happenings of the morning, and every single muscle was aching.

Suddenly, Eryn said aloud, “Yes, Master Raiden.”

“Huh?” Ravenor could only breathe a questioning sound, he was too wrecked to do much more.

“The Prince would like to dine with us, in a quarter of an hour. He just told me.”

Eryn struggled onto his feet, while Ravenor didn’t make any attempt to move.

“I'm not hungry. I've already eaten.”

Eryn was looking at the dirty water in Ravenor's water bowl. It probably hasn't been changed in last three days. So he emptied the bowl magically and let fresh water flow into it.

Meanwhile, he asked ironically, “Shall I inform Master Raiden that you won’t come?”

“Of course. Do it... What surprises me is that, this morning we were an absolute disgrace for the Black Guard and now he wants to have dinner with us?”

Eryn took off his shirt and washed himself. “That doesn't bother Master Raiden at all. It was our shame, not his, and now he is bored, and seeks devoted listeners he can talk to. By the way, who cured you this morning, when I had to leave before I could do you the favour?”

With a groan Ravenor at last came to his feet. “Master Eriwen. But don’t think he did this out of kindness. His words were a commiserative: 'I can’t work with you this way'. And then he healed me to chase me endlessly through a magical exercise course, while he just sat at the edge. And after every round, he said without emotion, that we were changing something slightly, and then he would make me run again. This morning, after the pole, I really thought I wasn’t going to make it to Master Eriwen. I guess, just because those penalties are magical, all the superiors believe that they aren't painful. Of course it has to be like that, not a scratch remains and that way they don't need to hold back from handing out lashes. Whoever devised this system is the one who should really be punished.”

Eryn had finished washing and dried himself off with his old shirt.

Ravenor threw him a glance and grumbled, “Change the water, it's certainly dirty now.”

“It is cleaner than it was before. But I’ll help because it is you and, as an unmagical, there are so many things you are not able to do yourself.”

“You are too gracious. Did you learn such arrogance from the old man?” But Eryn had already left the room to fetch another shirt.

They were of course on time to the great hall, but Master Raiden was, as always, late. Better than the other way round. I do not need another rebuke today, Eryn thought.

The Lord of Naganor was in a good mood and started a casual conversation. But Eryn and Ravenor wisely held back with all their answers, until Master Raiden remarked:

“Gentlemen, you are off duty and I do not bear a grudge because of the matter this morning. A little more conversation than 'yes' and 'no' would be desirable. Or is there a need to refresh more lessons than just the basic drills?” Then he gave a stimulus for conversation: “How is your progress in fighting magic, Sir Ravenor?”

And then – hard as it was to believe – a conversation began between Master Raiden and the Unmagical about magic .

“We are trying out a lot, my Prince. The difficulty lies in activating different strengths and types of magic. The dosage of a fire-beam from the force of lighting a candle, up to a lance that shoots a hundred metres, is very difficult to control. In a real battle, the intonation would simply be too slow. Master Eriwen is thinking about a method of linking the artefact to my strand of red, so that I can gain a direct control.”

Master Raiden scanned him. “True, you do indeed have a red vein, though it's quite dry and powerless. But as an activator for an artefact – an interesting consideration. But for this, wouldn't Master Eriwen have to awaken you?”

“Oh, he's already done that, my Prince.” That statement obviously caused some astonishment. “You sound very confident, Sir Ravenor. Are you sure?”

Ravenor had not even told Eryn about his achievement, because he felt rather miserable in the shadow of Eryn's and Prince Raiden's magic. “My Prince, I succeeded in casting a spell, all on my own,” he now confessed with a certain pride and suddenly the interest rose around the table.

“Well, let me see,” demanded Prince Raiden and Ravenor felt uncomfortable again.

“My Prince, it is nothing special. Only a simple light-spell...” he tried to excuse himself in advance, but the Lord of Naganor encouraged him, “Go on. Everyone starts with the light-spell.”

So the young officer began to concentrate and summon the strand of yellow. After two whole minutes elapsed and his body was completely covered in sweat, Master Raiden grew slightly impatient. Suddenly there appeared a small uneasy flickering flame in Ravenor's palm, which caused Master Raiden to smile, before he said: “You can end the demonstration, Sir Ravenor. Well, you will never be an outstanding mage, but we knew that already, didn’t we?”

Ravenor had struggled so hard with the simplest of all spells, that even Eryn could not resist a grin. “Perhaps you'd be better off lighting a lamp when it is dark,” he joked, earning himself a reprimand from the master. “Eryn, not so long ago, you could do even less than that. Sir Ravenor fights bravely and that must be acknowledged, and Master Eriwen may be right that for the connection with an artefact, even a small amount of magic could be sufficient. That would put us in a position of being able to choose good fighters and give them magical means. Then we would no longer have to depend on a gifted few, who sometimes have miserable skills in fighting magic anyway. I am very interested in the outcome of these efforts. It has already cost me a considerable sum of money in advance.”

Eryn wondered whether he should feel targeted by the description 'miserable skills in fighting magic', but then he dismissed it and thought mildly amused:

And now we are sitting here, even though we were a shame to the Black Guard this morning.

But that was overheard and Master Raiden replied in thoughts:

“As already mentioned, I have no hard feelings, student.”

“How did you find out?” Eryn wanted to know, and the Lord of Naganor decided to continue the conversation loudly. “To include everyone around the table into our nice conversation – Eryn is wondering how your little attempt at manipulation was discovered by me. To be honest, you did not give anything away, but I know both of you very well and so your actions are predictable. I could have bet that you would try something. After all, it is not the first time,” and then he added cheerfully, “To be honest, I bet on it and I won myself fifty pieces of gold.”

Sold for fifty gold pieces! That is why he was dealing with such trivial stuff. ”Only fifty gold coins, my Prince?”

Without hesitation, Master Raiden admitted, “In fact, I would have pushed the amount much higher, but Lord Boron didn’t want to keep up with it. Even he, in his honest thinking, had his doubts about your rapid changes.”

Cautiously, Ravenor asked, “You don't have another bet running, my Prince? They are now made by almost everyone in the garrison. Of course, we would not want you to lose.”

The two of them hung at Prince Raiden's lips excitedly, wondering if he would give them an answer.

“No, no, I set the rules, so it just wouldn't look good. But if asked, this time I would bet on Eryn.” The balance of disfavour had shifted from Ravenor to Eryn, and Ravenor, being aware of this, dared to inquire, “My Prince, these strict regulations are very tough on us. Did we really deserve such treatment?”

Master Raiden just peeled some fruit with magic and arranged it decoratively on his plate.

“Looking at it objectively, it is nothing but participation in basic drills. No one forces you to transgress the regulations, that is your own fault. And how often that has already happened, proves that a repetition of the basic knowledge is necessary for you. Besides, you're not facing any real physical damage.”

The words were so lightly spoken, and both of them thought: But it damn well hurts.

Which challenged the Prince to a further remark: “Gentlemen, you can easily endure these little pains, surely. See it as an additional exercise. It is easy to get into a situation where you still need to act with a clear mind, despite suffering and pain. Maybe I should order that you do exercises on this basis.”

Please don't! Eryn didn’t want to imagine, where such considerations could lead, but Ravenor saved the situation by performing a skilful deflection manoeuvre.

“My Prince, of course the pain is bearable and as you aptly noticed, we are also to blame for it. What I personally consider much worse, is that the circumstances of this unusual situation undermine my authority as an officer. The simple recruits are starting to think that I am one of them.”

Master Raiden was finished with his fruit arrangements and started to consume his work of art.

“You are surely just imagining it, Sir Ravenor.”

“Not at all. Today, one of the recruits dared to confront me with insolent expressions, and I had to take drastic actions in order to purge this lack of respect and clarify the issue of authority.”

“Then you have the same problem as I do.” And quite casually, a question followed: “Was that the reason that you beat Eryn today by five points?”

“You are well informed, my Prince. I would not have expected you to be interested in such trifles when you are so busy with far more important tasks. But to answer your question: I had my differences with Sir Askir, how the matter should be handled if a recruit doesn’t know his place. And then Sir Draken came by and made a clear judgement on the case that, in the end, led to the aforementioned result.” It was astonishing how elegantly Ravenor could express himself in order to describe that he had smashed his fist into the young man's face, and that he had quarrelled badly with Sir Askir.

Eryn rejoined the conversation. “My Prince, all this betting – is this really to your approval? Isn’t it just as reprehensible as drunkenness or other offences against the regulations?”

The fruit had been eaten and Master Raiden put his cutlery aside. Then he leaned back, pressing his fingertips together.

“I don’t think so. In any case, the betting does not affect the fighting force of the Black Guard. So why should I forbid the men this entertainment. The troops must be kept in a good humour and must not be denied all their pleasures.”

But all pleasures shall be denied to us, thought Ravenor with melancholy. He was promptly addressed by the Prince: “Are you complaining about something?” “No, no, of course not, my Prince.” “I hope not. Behave yourself according to the regulations, obey Sir Askir, who, by the way, is fulfilling his task excellently, and the time will come when participation in basic drills will no longer be necessary.” A light on the horizon. “We will do our utmost, my Prince.” Sincerely meant. “Then you are dismissed for today.” The young men politely bade farewell and were glad to have permission to leave at last. Master Raiden watched them go. Perhaps this task really is too difficult. Who can observe all the regulations? And Sir Askir takes his job even more seriously than I would have thought him to. No matter, the game will go on until the first of them cracks the one hundred line. After all, a lot of bets are running and I can’t disappoint everyone.

Performing basic drills without the assistance of magic demanded everything from them. And they really had to pull themselves together. Eryn and Ravenor recited answers when necessary, and otherwise kept their mouths shut. Which was not easy, as Sir Askir's practice hours were very boring. He was currently busy with a part of his unit, while the other men were sitting around disinterestedly. Then Sir Demon came by and stopped provocatively beside Ravenor. “And? Have the basics been relearned?”

“Clear off, Demon, and stop talking crap!” countered Ravenor, but Sir Askir had already noticed the noise and immediately came over .

“Do you have business with me, Sir Demon?” asked Sir Askir innocently, and then came the real blow:

“No, not at all, Sir Askir, but when I passed by, I was not greeted properly. To be precise, I was not greeted at all. I just wanted to mention that.” Promptly, the upright Askir recited the regulations: “During service a superior is to be greeted by the lower-ranks. That’s five according to the rules. But Ravenor did not accept that and he said, “Sir Askir, I must point out clearly that Sir Demon is no higher in rank than me, and therefore he should salute me, which also hasn’t happened. Consequently, he should be punished with five blows, according to the rules.”

Sir Askir hesitated, pondering what to do now. Finally he decided, “Sir Demon's behaviour is not within my jurisdiction but I will report his mistake.”

It was completely clear, that nothing at all would happen and the irascible Ravenor slipped out an “Oh yes!” which was enough grounds for Sir Askir to quote a further part of the regulations:

“You forget yourself and you fail to apply the proper tone. So it remains at five. And you...” he pointed towards Eryn, “...should have given a proper salute, as usual. That too is worth five.”

Unjust as always. “Sir Askir, with all due respect, Sir Demon is not yet on duty.”

This however, Sir Demon had to clarify immediately: “Of course I am on duty. It just started.”

Well Demon, for that you will pay. Sir Askir once again quoted the regulations: “For not greeting of a superior, that’s five... ”

Eryn's anger boiled furiously and he interrupted the other: “With all due respect, but no one here has greeted Sir Demon – none of the other men. Will they now be punished too?”

But Askir burst out, “I had not yet finished. Five more for once again interrupting and speaking without being asked. You also fail to use the correct words and tone, another five, and when you address me, then you must do so with a proper attitude, which you haven’t done either. So we are now up to twenty. Do you have anything to add?”

Shit! “No, Sir Askir.” Two days ago it had been twenty-five, and now again twenty. Eryn was really fed up and he couldn’t take revenge on Askir for he was surely protected by Master Raiden. But Demon certainly wouldn't be shielded by the Black Prince, and today everything was obviously his doing. After Eryn had endured the torture and the after effects had been removed, he scanned the usual places where Demon would be. The common room of the Fifth Regiment, there he is.

I should go to Master Lionas' lesson now, but Master Lionas will certainly be so kind as to wait another ten minutes. He doesn’t take matters as seriously as the other mages and I have an apt excuse too: punishment at the pole – once again. But first someone else has earned a punishment. I'll rub your face into the dirt, comrade pig!

Outraged, Eryn hurried to the lounge, where he found Demon with two other officers. A paper showing the bets had been pinned to the wall here too, and just at that moment Demon was writing something there. When he detected Eryn, he grinned broadly and joked,

“Well, did you learn how to greet properly today?”

He didn’t get any further, for a ban spell pressed him against the wall, while the two other officers were held on their chairs.

“Do you think it's some kind of funny joke when they beat me, arsehole?” Eryn yelled at him, and then he gave Demon two magical blows, causing his victim to cry out.

“Man, are you crazy? I'll report that.”

“You won’t do that if you don’t want me to turn your life here into hell. I can do that easily with my magical knowledge. Maybe as a regular I hold a lower military rank, but my rank as a mage Aspirant is far above yours, unmagical. Let me think about what I could do to you the next time. What about the Pox...”

“All right, calm down. This morning that wasn’t meant to be personal. We just all had bets and...”

But Eryn interrupted him sharply, “Your lousy game doesn’t interest me at all and believe me, if I again see you or any of your pals in the exercise yard, 'just passing by', while we have to endure this shit, then you had better pray to the gods for mercy.” He emphasised his words with two more blows.

“Stop it! I've got the message. I didn’t think you were so humourless.”

The two officers at the other table looked scared, but made no movement to interfere.

Finally Eryn let Demon go. “Think about our agreement,” he snarled, then turned to the witnesses of his deed, “And you too!”

Eager approval appeased Eryn's heated temper, and, with a feeling of satisfaction, he went on to Master Lionas.

Time passed quickly, and at the beginning of the next day they were called to duty for the hated hours with Sir Askir. They were absolutely determined not to score any points, but their good intentions failed within the first ten minutes. Sir Askir had ordered them to fetch practice swords and Ravenor whispered to Eryn, “Well, finally it becomes more interesting. Sword fighting, that is my thing.” But Sir Askir had damn good ears and overheard his remark. According to the regulations, this was already five – for both of them. In fact, Eryn hadn’t said a word and had only allowed himself a grin, but he knew exactly how a complaint would end, so he swallowed the five and forbade himself any comment.

The next problem arose when Ravenor understood something from the basic drills completely differently to Sir Askir. Ravenor let his blade dance skilfully, and it took at most three strokes before the weapon pointed towards a fatal spot of the poor recruit’s body.

Meanwhile, the platoon leader had paraded down the row of the trainees and now came back to Ravenor. “Sir Ravenor, what are you doing?” The question alone already bore an accusation, but Ravenor wasn’t aware of any guilt. He lowered his blade.

“Sir Askir, I am teaching this man how to fight.”

That didn't seem to please Sir Askir. “Wrong! You do not teach anyone here and you do not practice anything other than the first basic techniques. To remind you, four strokes in a set order with the four corresponding parades.”

But sword fighting was Ravenor's favourite discipline and he could not restrain himself.

“Sir Askir, with all due respect, no one learns it that way.”

Sir Askir didn’t respond to that, but instead generously issued another ten blows – strictly according to the rules. Then he turned round without another word and went back up the row, leaving Ravenor boiling with rage. And I was looking forward to the sword fighting – how stupid of me. Askir only lets us practice, right, left, from above and right the whole time long and my miserable lordling here finds Sir Askir's announcement witty. Your stupid grin will soon vanish from your face. Just you wait.

The recruit began with his attack, which Ravenor countered rather boredly, then it was his turn. Now Ravenor put all his strength, which was considerable, into the blows and at the second stroke the sword flew out of his opponent’s hand. The lordling's stupid grin changed into a expression of horror. The man picked up his sword again and tried to present himself bravely, but against Ravenor's powerful rage, he was helpless. Again and again the blade was knocked out of his hands, until rescue approached in shape of Sir Askir.

“Is this what you understand under basic exercises, Sir Ravenor?” The words were sharply spoken, and Ravenor confined himself to a short reply: “Yes, sir Askir.” Indeed, in his view, he had done nothing wrong. That is the basic exercise, isn’t it? But the Orten sprout was distinctly not satisfied with this answer. “You know exactly what I mean! Don't go too far, Sir Ravenor. Be more moderate with the exercises, or do you want to kill this man?”

“No, Sir Askir. The man, however, is extremely weak. Could I perhaps practice with Eryn instead? He, at least, is able to hold on his sword.”

It seldom happened that Sir Askir forgot his good manners as a superior noble and let himself go, but now this point had been reached and he shouted furiously at the Prince's bastard.

“Sir Ravenor, now you are up to twenty-five, and if you don’t shut up immediately and do what I ask of you, the number of blows will continue to increase. If that’s your intent, please go ahead. An additional stupid comment, a remark, a lecture – don’t hold yourself back. I am all ears... Or will you finally start doing as all the others do, and you know very well what that is. Certainly you know that, because you are not that stupid.”

Shit, twenty-five. I won’t ask him now how he got to that sum. Hopefully Eryn will be able to hang around long enough to remove the after effects, if I survive this stupidity: “Yes, Sir Askir, ” and I won't forget this in a hurry. One day, when the opportunity arises, then good Askir, you’ll eat dirt until you choke on it.

Askir could not hear Ravenor's heartfelt wishes, and so he relaxed a little.

“Fine – carry on.”

For the rest of the session, Ravenor toyed around boredly with the sword and put up with the unfitness of the fresher. All the while he was picturing how he would beat up Askir in their next practice fight, where he wouldn’t have to restrain himself.

Now that Eryn and Ravenor were neck to neck, the bets shot up again, and when the next cursed drill began, a considerable number of men gathered at the edge of the parade ground, with nothing better to do with their free time than to watch Sir Askir and his unit doing exercises. Eryn even noticed Sir Haerkin and Sir Wylden amongst them, the commanders of the Second and Third Regiments.

Just ten minutes of the drill had passed, when Sir Lohten from the Third Regiment approached Sir Askir and delivered an order. The platoon leader should march his unit closer to the edge of the square. Needless to say, it was just a matter of giving the spectators a better view of the show.

Like scavengers, they just wait for one of us to make a mistake. I would really love to place a bet too. I would put all my gold on myself and then punch Sir Askir right into his arrogant face. But Master Raiden has predicted this and pointed out very clearly that we can’t participate in the betting. So the best thing I can do today, is to not score any points. I hope these damned sensationalist bastards who have lined up at the edge, will die of boredom.

Eryn tried to pay the pack no attention, because it was only firing up his rage. They practised marching formations, and the recruits continuously fell out of the step, leading to endless repetitions. Suddenly it so happened that the man behind Eryn made an error and kicked him in the heel, causing Eryn to stumble too. The upset continued until Sir Askir had to stop the unit and restore order, before they could start a new attempt.

At the periphery, meanwhile, a violent discussion had broken out between Sir Haerkin and Sir Wylden.

Eryn noticed the quarrel out of the corner of his eye, but he could not make out the words from such distance. Who has Sir Haerkin placed his bet on? He can’t stand either of us. They had just finished walking back and forth, and Sir Lohten, acting as an envoy of the higher officers, came over, heading directly for Sir Askir, who commanded a halt and his unit stood still. Then Sir Askir turned to the approaching man.

“What’s the matter, Sir Lohten?”

“I would like to clarify the fact that Regular Eryn's disturbance caused the whole unit to march out of step.” That someone knocked the unit out of step happened all the time, so the good and just Sir Askir was somewhat perplexed by this twisted request. He considered briefly, then he commanded Eryn to step forward.

“Were you out of step, Regular Eryn?” he asked in an interrogating tone.

Yes, but only because the idiot kicked me in the heels from behind. Should I mention that now? Better not, it will certainly be to my disadvantage. “Yes, Sir Askir.”

“You see, the soldier even confesses his misconduct, that must be punished,” Sir Lohten crowed triumphantly, but, rather unexpectedly, backup came from the noble sir Askir.

“Sir Lohten, there is no rule that punishes a recruit for making mistakes in a training unit. That is why it’s called an exercise, in which the men participate to learn something.”

Exactly, Askir, strictly according to regulations. Don’t let yourself be influenced by these bet-horny bastards. But Sir Lohten was not to be beaten so easily. “I'd like to point out that Eryn holds the rank of a regular and isn’t a recruit any more. He should have mastered the basics by now, and consequently he should be judged differently from the other recruits.”

Eryn looked stubbornly straight ahead and thought to himself. Sir Lohten, you're not making yourself any friends.

But Askir too disliked the attempt to manipulate. “Sir Lohten, the regular Eryn is here because he lacks knowledge of the basics, as Prince Raiden himself formulated it, and consequently I must assume that his knowledge is no better than that of the other recruits. For that reason I will treat him just like the others, and now I would ask you, not to disturb the practice any further.”

You haven't shown any appreciation to my abilities and I won’t give you a great thanks for this Askir, but at least you have correctly pointed out that this was not a violation of the regulations.

Now Sir Lohten had no other choice than to withdraw and go back to his clients empty-handed.

The exercise with Sir Askir was nearing its end, and they had in fact managed to obey all the regulations. The pack at the edge grumbled, dissatisfied, but then dispersed to do their own daily tasks. The rest of the regiment meanwhile behaved like a bunch of conspirators with only one concern, and as soon as either Eryn or Ravenor appeared, their heated conversations broke off and turned into an unpleasant silence, at best broken by a few banal words.

Eryn was glad when he could distract himself with his other duties, because both the hours with Sir Askir and the climate generated in the garrison were extremely annoying.

How long shall this continue? Even Prince Raiden can’t approve this for much longer, Eryn thought hopefully, for only the Prince could end this evil game. Two days later basic drills were already over and Ravenor had earned himself five, putting them both on the same level of ninety-five. This violation of the sacred rules had entertained the audience at the side fully at Ravenor's expense, and even Eryn couldn’t resist a laugh. Sheepishly, he healed Ravenor's magical pain and they set off for the Citadel.

“We should hurry, Master Raiden hates to wait.”

“With a clear conscience I can plead that I was at the pole, which delayed my arrival,” Ravenor remarked sarcastically.

Eryn could not help digging into the wound. “Did you really not know how to stack the items together according to regulations?”

The question was superfluous. Even Askir had noticed how, at the end, Ravenor's incorrect placement of weapons and armour parts had been unintentional.

“You can’t remember every little drivel,” Ravenor replied, admitting his ignorance.

“And how do you expect to control the ordering with your own men, if you don’t know it for yourself?”

Ravenor gave Eryn a challenging look. “Can you stop with this crap now? Every word about this is wasted.”

“Fine, now you have remembered it...”

Eryn actually wanted to smooth the waves, but Ravenor now narrowed his eyes to thin slits, just as he always did when he got angry.

Oh, be careful! The Unmagical is losing control. So I will enjoy this cheerful story in silence, otherwise he will pounce on me like a wild beast.

The whole affair had been quite banal. Sir Askir had commanded that they lay down their weapons, helmets and breastplates, and then do simple physical exercises. Each of the new recruits knew how to order their armour and weapons... except Ravenor. For years the devoted supporter of disorder had thrown his stuff anywhere. And the day he was promoted to the rank of an officer, he was no longer reprimanded for it, as no one controlled his room. Besides, cleaning up was the job of a boy, one of which was allocated to every officer in the garrison. This lax attitude toward the task had now become his downfall. He had piled his things together quickly, but not exactly like everyone else's, and Sir Askir sniffed out the hidden rebellion and lectured him – together, of course, with a punishment. Ravenor looked to the left and right stealthily and reorganised his pile, and soon the whole audience realised that the good Ravenor had previously had no idea of how it should be done. This caused great amusement at the sidelines, which Ravenor recognised immediately, causing him to blush. The great Orten also stood there uncomfortably, and decided to end the whole comical episode by simply ignoring it and stubbornly carrying on with the lesson.

Later in Master Raiden’s study, they focused on other matters. The task was to enchant a glove for Ravenor. The garment had been specially made for him and contained several compartments, into which small, metal bars covered with gems could be inserted. These metals were bewitched with different spells and could be activated individually. The simpler variants were activated via intonation. The more complex ones were connected with Ravenor's meagre magical veins. Master Raiden himself enchanted the parts, and Eryn assisted him. And at every little break Ravenor had to listen to complaints of how extremely expensive the project was. Surprisingly, Ravenor continued to find new words of gratitude to the Prince, for showing such confidence and faith in his abilities and selecting him for this special task.

The process lasted quite a while, but finally the work was finished and Master Raiden leaned back in his chair. “You're going to practice intensively with the glove for the next weeks, Sir Ravenor. I want to see what can be done with it.”

“Yes, Prince Raiden.” Inevitably, Ravenor thought of the basic drills. The crap with Askir is a mere waste of time. I should be working more on this important task instead.

This thought was recognised by Master Raiden, and he remarked instead, “It has reached my ears that you two are now on the same level.”

This was not exactly the favourite subject of Eryn and Ravenor, but on the other hand it raised the hope of an early end to the torture. Both of them were thinking intensively about a way in which they could convince Prince Raiden to end the humiliation, but they hadn’t found the right approach before Master Raiden continued:

“And Eryn even mastered two complete sessions without an offence. Amazing.”

A little tormented, Eryn replied, “I am striving to the utmost, Master Raiden. Would you maybe consider determining that the foundations have been refreshed? Of course you must make your assessment of the situation alone, my Prince.”

Oh how they suffer and are hanging hopefully to my lips to hear the words of salvation. But I can’t do that now, when it is all so exciting. The whole garrison has bet on the first one hundred. If I end it now, there will be hundreds of dissatisfied men – as such only two. But I should give them a little hope.

“I admit you are making progress in the right direction and be assured that this service won’t last for much longer. And besides, it is not necessary for you to remind me of this matter over and over again

You are dismissed.”

The young men saluted and left the room. I will prepare the new duty rosters in advance, certainly it won't take more than two hours now until one of them takes the lead. Really a head-to-head race. I should also place a bet...

Attention – basic drills! Sir Askir was on the court, and the first spectators had already gathered in tense expectation.

They should be as bored as I am. I swear, I won’t break a single rule, that will annoy them the most. How can the high commanders lower themselves in this way, and even Master Raiden gives his blessing to such a thing. Eryn pondered grumpily and Ravenor seemed to be thinking similarly.

This day was physically more strenuous than usual and that cleared their minds. They ran back and forth across the square in full gear, and then immediately took up their positions in various battle formations. The heels of the boots whirled up the dust as the whole unit crossed the square again. Suddenly the handle of Eryn's shield got stuck in his sword-belt, and a strap of the attachment tore. Consequently the sword's scabbard was now only held by one leather strap and got tangled around with every step. This proved to be an immense hindrance while running, and only holding the loosened scabbard with his shield hand allowed him passable movement. But that wasn’t a permanent solution.

If I report this, is that also a crime against the regulations? No, it can happen to anyone. A misfortune, therefore no one can blame me, Eryn concluded.

“Sir Askir, Regular Eryn reports defective equipment. I request permission to go and have the damage repaired.”

“And what kind of defect is that supposed to be?” Askir's tone already made his doubts clear.

He doesn't believe me. The torn band of the sword was shown, and the officer scanned it with a disdainful look. “And with this excuse now you would like casually go down to the armoury and get a replacement belt? A nice try. How much time would you likely need? Twenty minutes, half an hour...?”

Why does everyone think so badly of me? This wasn’t faked. “Sir Askir, I will exchange the belt as soon as possible,” Eryn assured the superior but Sir Askir had apparently got out on the wrong side of the bed that morning. Or perhaps it was because he had faced Ravenor in an exercise fight the day before, in which Ravenor had proven to his opponent that he could fight on a much higher level than the basic techniques, and Askir had lost very badly.

The officers eyes became hard. “Such a belt does not tear easily. You should have already noticed the damage while you were cleaning the armour, shouldn’t you have?”

Now he's rubbing the magical cleaning under my nose. Stupid arsehole! I won’t fall into that trap.

“Sir Askir, I'm still waiting for your decision on this matter.”

But those words were not taken up well. “So, you're still waiting? Well, it will be time for me to tell you my decision. Five for not keeping your equipment in check, and another five for your impatience concerning my decisions. And for the rest of the exercise your will put your sword aside. Best if you deliver your weapon to one of the gentlemen at the sidelines, so that you don’t have to carry it to your quarters now.”

“Yes, Sir Askir,” Askir, you're a jerk. Or has one of the gentlemen over there bribed you?

The idea was not that absurd, given that in the meantime an uproar had erupted at the perimeters of the square. One side was rejoicing over their victory, the others expressing their disappointment. Eryn, on the other hand, felt utterly defeated as he handed over his sword, even though many hands were clapping him on the shoulder. Then he hastened over to take his place in the row again, knowing Sir Askir would use everything he could against him. What a farce. During their short lunch break Prince Raiden summoned Eryn and Ravenor. Half of the food remained on their plates as they hurried to the citadel. A surprise awaited them there and, after the official welcome, the Lord of Naganor came straight to the point. “Gentlemen, you are wasting your time with basic drills. Here are your new rosters.” He handed Eryn and Ravenor each a piece of paper. “Have a look through the schedules now, in case there are any questions.” Not to mention that this request was a loaded question. On Eryn's sheet was written: Warehousing, gymnastics exercises for mages, and archiving. No really interesting topics, but anything is better than what hopefully lays behind me now. And for that, a convincing lip service is appropriate before Master Raiden reverses his decision.

“Thank you, Master Raiden. I really appreciate it.” Prince Raiden watched them closely, unmagical and magical. No revolt, no objections, no contradictions. The two must have really hated the basic drills and they seem to have learned their lessons well. One last test: “That's all. You are dismissed!” A jagged salute and the two marched out of the door, but Prince Raiden called them back before the door could slam shut. “Stop, come back.” At once they turned on their heel, and again stood side by side in front of His Highness.

“Your wish, my Prince?” Ravenor asked. “You have passed my little test and therefore I will be generous. You can cast away the sheets I just gave you. Both of you have free time now in place of basic drills, for all other lessons, the old roster is still valid.”

Master Raiden proved himself to be extremely generous that day, as he continued: “And, Sir Ravenor, it's time to get rid of that bracelet of yours. An officer should be able to control himself without such aids.”

The hated armlet for preventing alcohol from being drunk fell to the ground, and Ravenor's expression turned to pure joy.

“Thank you kindly, my Prince. In future, I will not shame the Black Guard, nor will I shame you with my deeds.”

With a wave of his hand, Ravenor was dismissed before Master Raiden turned towards Eryn.

“As expected, you lost the competition – if only barely.”

Master Raiden scratched his chin in contemplation, while in Eryn's throat a lump was forming. He imagined a hell, where he would be Sir Askir's subject forever, but Master Raiden continued:

“Nevertheless, I am convinced that you have internalised this lesson. With the help of the soulban I could force you to do anything, but this wouldn’t be the right way about it. Recognising reason has to come by itself.”

In the short pause that followed, a 'yes, my Prince' seemed appropriate.

“And now that minor deviations from the path of virtue have been corrected again, we can focus on more important matters. You have practised falling from a great heights?”

“Yes, my Prince.”

“Good, then I would like a demonstration.” Here? Master Raiden grew impatient. “What is the problem?”

“Nothing, my Prince,” Eryn assured quickly.

“So jump through a tunnel and slow down your fall. Here, at least, you can’t fall very far if you fail.”

Eryn was still hesitating, but Master Raiden urged him, “Go on!”

Eryn conjured a tunnel ending just below the ceiling and effortlessly, demonstrated a perfectly slowed down fall to the ground.

Master Raiden nodded, pleased. “I think I'm ready to go back to the Nimrod. We'll leave in two days. Tomorrow you will start to take some useful things into the Nimrod. I don’t want to have to always beg the dragon for everything. Set up a small hut near the passage, from where we will then operate. Master Eriwen will assist you. I acquired the Majestic's consent on our last visit. And now go and prepare everything.”

So it starts again. This was exciting news and left the memory of the miserable hours of basic drills to drift into oblivion. But there's something else... “Yes, Master Raiden. Just one more thing. The bracelet might hinder me in performing my duties.” Eryn held up his arm.

“Student, a good mage could easily rid himself of such a ridiculous thing...”

“If you would teach me your wisdom, Master Raiden...?”

The black mage sighed, “You are far from being a good mage, and thus still far from being able to accomplish such a task. So I will have to take care of the matter myself.”

The hoop widened and Eryn slipped it off easily. He put the hated item on the table, hoping that it would get lost amongst other things... never to be found again by the Lord of Naganor. Then Eryn too was allowed to leave.

Prince Raiden followed him thoughtfully with his eyes.

How very disciplined and dutiful the two of them are. It wasn’t truly fair, but I had no choice but to put a stop to the matter early and, as I can clearly see, it didn’t hurt – in two aspects. His hand felt the well filled purse he had earned today. That has really paid itself off. Honestly wagered, honestly won. I only had to manipulate a few assistants. Just how would it look like if the Prince of Ardeen participated in such a bet.

Then his thoughts began to circle around the Nimrod. A country full of secrets that he wanted to unravel.

The preparations were in full swing, as Danian called the Prince through the magical mirror.

“Finally I reach you. I was nearly going to come through the tunnel myself, to see if you were still alive.”

The Lord of Naganor adjusted the mirror while he answered.

“I have had a lot on my mind, because I'm planning a journey.”

This disclosure caused some astonishment. “Where are you going, and for how long?”

It's better not to tell Danian anything about the Nimrod, Raiden decided. Not that I do not trust him. It is more for his own protection. The fewer people who know about the Nimrod, the better. “I want to search through some old archives in Ysryn and this will take some time. A month – maybe two.”

Raiden could see Danian frowning. “I would ask you to postpone this journey because more urgent matters are at stake.”

“And they are?” asked the Lord of Naganor in surprise.

“The concerns of high politics. You yourself have nominated the husband of your daughter Estell as custodian for the newly gained territory between the rivers... ”

Irritated, Master Raiden interrupted, “What husband?” And Danian explained more precisely.

“That's the point. Gelderon insists that Estell shall be married, to make a clear arrangement in this delicate matter.”

Whenever the neighbouring country was mentioned, bile rose to Raiden's mouth. “That matter is clear. Have those rats forgotten what happened in the valley of Aspenway? Shall I burn one of their cities to ashes, to make them remember how things are? Or does my serpent-wife venture back into my vicinity out of her exile? I thought you had clearly explained the situation to her. She will never again set foot on Ardeen's ground.”

The King appeased his upset brother, “Calm down. Lady Chrystell will stay away from you, and you

can’t just burn one of our peaceful neighbour's cities to ashes. Politics doesn’t work as simply as that. It is about manoeuvring and bargaining. You have to make pacts and keep your word... if it is appropriate. In this particular case, it would help to relax the relationship between our two countries. And just to remind you, these were your own words, good brother.”

“And what do you expect of me now?” grumbled Prince Raiden, his eyebrows meeting in the middle of his forehead. Of course Danian had already formulated set ideas, which he now recited:

“It wouldn’t be wrong to consider a tournament. Set up such an event at Naganor and invite all the high houses. Ardeen's as well as Gelderon's. So to say, in order to better assess the value of participating young men. Then make your choice. A capable and loyal man from Ardeen would be appropriate.”

“Why at Naganor? Arvon is much better suited for such an extraordinary festival.”

That was true, but Danian denied the fact, “Estell is your daughter and Naganor your castle. How would it look if you were to hold this important event elsewhere? And don't worry, Lady Chrystell will not attend the festivities... for health reasons. Estell will come alone.”

“How soothing. And you, dear brother? Will you honour the celebrations with your presence?”

Danian grinned broadly, “I'm waiting for your official invitation. An appointment in two months would be appropriate for both sides and also gives you enough time for the preparations.” What had just happened didn’t suit Prince Raiden’s plans at all. “I have no representative accommodation for a large number of honourable guests,” he made a feeble attempt to escape the closing trap, but the King did not listen to this argument. “You are a mage. In two months you can achieve a lot. The Prince of Ardeen will not fail on such a small task, will he?”

Failure was not the right expression. Rather, the Prince of Ardeen seemed to choke on his displeasure, because that meant that he would now have to postpone his own plans for a considerable period of time: “An easy task and I am glad to do this to the benefit of Ardeen, my King. At least, send me a list with the appropriate candidates. You know, how few dealings I've had with those high-bred fools so far.”

“True! But you could ask the many ladies, whether they have brothers.”

“My King, this statement is below your dignity.”

A sigh followed and then a meaningful explanation, “Dignity is just another burden, which I also have to bear. Allow me one of the few moments when I can let go of it. And now I will say goodbye, for I fear you have a lot to do.”

The mirror went black and Raiden sank into his chair. So much for my plans to visit to the Nimrod. Two months time, considering what needs to be organised, is a damn short time. Thank you, dear brother, this really was a great and very successful surprise.