Draconis' Bane Read Free Page A

court.
    Foreboding tension
was thick in the air as though the Prince knew he’d gone too far
one too many times. Fallon escorted him through the hallways
towards the main audience chamber where the Housecarl beat his
metal tipped staff on the floor to announce the entry of the King
and Queen thru their private entrance to the central room in the
Palace.
    Fallon could hear the
Prince flexing his toes in his boots, clearly showing nervous
tension at the very public dressing down he was likely about to
receive. In retrospect, Swordmaster Fallon wondered if he should
have put a stop to the fight rather than let the childish scrap
play out. He felt nearly as responsible for what was about to
transpire as the Prince should.
    “May I present,
Prince Tristan Vallious!” The Housecarl shouted from the front of
the room.
    With a gentle nudge
from Fallon, the Prince walked forward. He made his way forward,
into the chamber with as much poise as he could muster. The
Swordmaster was sure that the Queen’s recriminations were still
ringing in the lads ears as he came to a halt in front of the
throne and respectfully bowed low.
    “Well.” The King said
loudly enough for the whole room to hear.
    “We understand you
took it upon yourself to instruct the Swordmaster’s lessons today.”
He accused, casting his eyes toward Fallon who had quietly taken
his place to the right of the throne between the King and
Housecarl.
    King Dion Vallious
wasn’t an overtly serious person, though he had a quiet authority
that gave the impression that he was always deadly serious. In
reality the King was a good natured man and more often than not was
the mastermind behind pranks his children played on their teachers.
For Dion to adopt a serious expression, as well as his choice of
words, he betrayed his temper boiling under the surface of a calm
façade. Fallon decided that the King must be furious.
    “Yes, father.”
Tristan admitted, lowering his eyes.
    “Since you’ve clearly
gone from pupil to teacher, there is nothing our home can offer you
anymore.” The King announced.
    Tristan’s head
snapped up, looking at his father in open shock.
    “With that said,
we’ve decided it’s time for you to earn the reputation you seem to
think you deserve.” The King ordered.
    Tristan looked back
down at his feet.
    “You’ll be leaving at
the end of the week for Kenting. There you will assume the post of
Man-At-Arms under your brothers’ command until such time as he
thinks you’re ready.” Dion said in his most commanding voice.
    “Ready for what,
father?” Tristan asked quietly, still keeping his eyes
downcast.
    “Ready to grow up!”
The King shouted.

    “Hold!”
    The Prince looked
over at the Swordmaster, irritation clearly evident on his face.
Again Fallon was forced to admit that while the Prince was quite
gifted with the sword, he found the young man’s attitude
irritating.
    Apparently the
chastising he’d received from his father yesterday afternoon had
long since been forgotten. The boy was a talent and his abilities
led him to impetuous moves that would likely earn him an early
death if he couldn’t reign in his arrogance. Even as a child, the
eldest son of his King and Queen had shown great promise. He lacked
the discipline or at the very least the desire to see it through
though.
    It was very
disappointing. The best his teachers could expect was a competent
administrator, though Dukes had been made of far worse material he
grudgingly admitted to himself. Fallon would have liked to have
broken the Prince like one would a horse and reformed him into
someone much less arrogant and spoiled. Today he was conducting the
lessons as none of the other instructors wanted to be responsible
for a repeat performance of the previous day, unlikely though it
was. Jason had been chastised in a much less public way and quietly
sent home before the sun had set.
    “My Prince. After the
riposte, you need to remember not to leave yourself open.”