Rise of the Dead Prince Read Free

If anyone noticed him, he would have to greet them or talk to them, and then he would have to become a part of this day, and it was hours too early for that. Yes, he would sneak about from here to there, always escaping notice like a shadow, deftly clinging to the unseen areas of this busy world. That was the game. And Meier was usually bad at games. Well not today, he told himself with a grin.
    Naturally, this resolution preceded the end of the game by only a few sec onds.
    “Good morning, my lord!” exclaimed the clarion voice of the woman that had appeared behind him. Meier nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned to face his assailant, this assassin of his fun, this … rosy-faced, middle-aged woman that clearly had not even a rude bone in her body. She tilted her head at him and started to take notice of how flushed he was. “Did I startle you, my lord?” she asked apologetic ally.
    Yes! Yes you did! screamed Meier in his head, but what actually came out was a sigh followed by a dry, “No, of course not. Good morning to you as well.” The woman, whose name he didn’t know, seemed pleased. She waited for a second, holding her basket of bed linens and smiling at the young prince. After another second, Meier realized he was squarely in her way. He shuffled to one side and let her pass. “Sorry about that.” He chuckled nervo usly.
    “Of course not, my dear,” said the woman, and then she was gone. His game now ruined, Meier frowned in sullen defeat. He crossed his arms for a moment and then resolved to go to the courtyard, in other words, where the people were. From where he stood, it was a fairly short walk to the south wing and then into the courtyard; but Meier, being who he was, took a wrong turn and ended up somewhere in the east wing by the outer wall. After a period of cheerless wandering, he eventually found a main hallway and followed it to where he needed to go. He was greeted by at least a dozen people on the way, all of them the early morning cheerful sort.
    At last Meier stepped from the darkness of the last archway and into the light and open air. The sun had only crept a hand’s breadth into the sky, but it was still blinding when compared with the torch-lit inner areas. Squinting, Meier stumbled around until he found the steep stairs that led to the upper level. He wanted to get above things and see what he could see. The guards hailed him and went back to their duties, although in these times their duties allowed for a liberal amount of conversation with one another. Meier took the first two stairs with a gallant leap forward, or so he imagined it, but his heart skipped suddenly when he nearly missed the mark and tripped. The loud stomp he made while catching himself caused the two nearest men to turn and look, but Meier quickly scampered away gracelessly to escape the need to return their stares. The two guards smiled and shook their heads, mentally exchanging the same three words with each other, That’s our M eier.
    Meier was out of breath by the time he had fled to the top of the inner battlement. The cool air burned in his lungs as he rasped. Once he had recovered from the climb, he made his way to the edge that overlooked the whole of the courtyard. The main gate was visible in the south wall, with all its comings and goings. The stables, which he now stood directly above, were alive with the sounds of horses. But Meier had no interest in these at present. His eyes were fixed on the training grounds, specifically on the most imposing figure t here.
    And there he was, Prince Assur the Bold, heir to the throne of Valahia and Meier’s oldest brother. Seven years his elder and covered in thick broad muscle, he stood a full head above Meier. Assur was presently surrounded by sparring partners. One or two at a time, they tried to take him down. Dressed in full plate minus the helmet, Assur wielded a huge battle axe, twirling it across his fingers as though it were a flute. He crouched like a