Equimancer's Realm

  “So you have someone in mind?”

  Gloria nodded. Octarian took her hand.

  “Gloria, I know what a strong woman you are. Nevertheless, becoming the ruler of Pyonia is a task that you should not have to face alone. I can’t think of any man in the Realm who wouldn’t be honoured to be your husband.”

  “You can’t?”

  “Of course not. Who wouldn’t want to marry a young, beautiful Empress? I must say, I don’t envy your suitors once they find out that you have picked one lucky contender,” he smiled.

  She looked at him in confusion.

  “There hasn’t been anybody else for a while now. Only you… I told you last night,” she said silently.

  “Wait… wait,” he uttered, running his hands through his hair wishing his memories after the picnic were less nebulous.

  “You don’t mean…” he stuttered, realising what they were actually talking about. Their marriage.

  She ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her with a loud bang.

  The last of his hangover evaporated.

  He threw on his clothes and followed her to the adjacent salon.

  Her eyes were full of hostility.

  “Spare me your mocking comments and get out, please.”

  It would have been so easy to do just what she asked him to, but he didn’t want her to hate him.

  He knew that if he walked out now, then that would truly mean the end for them. Suddenly he wasn’t sure he wanted it. He wished for nothing more than to bang his head against the wall. He went up to her and tried to take her hand into his. She pulled away.

  “Gloria, please, don’t do that. I didn’t know… I didn’t realise I meant more to you than… anyway… This is a serious topic. Please let’s talk about it,” he pleaded surprising himself.

  “What’s there to talk about?”

  “Plenty.”

  “Why? Do you love me?”

  Octarian couldn’t prevent a sharp intake of breath.

  “Of course I do,” he blurted, inwardly wincing.

  Maybe he did.

  Maybe this idea wasn’t entirely out of this World.

  For some reason, the most important thing was proving it.

  And he did; the only way he could.

  Two hours later Octarian arrived at Lexandros’ study. He felt numb and confused. He took a deep breath and nodded to the servant to have him announced to his Royal brother.

  On entering, he noticed with horror that Lexandros was in the company of his team of advisors.

  “Gentlemen, let’s take a break if you please. I had refreshments served in the dining hall. We shall continue shortly.”

  “Greetings, Lords… and brother,” Octarian nodded to the assembled men.

  “You may call me Your Majesty in the company of my administration,” Lexandros grumbled once the others left.

  “Why don’t I do that once I can be arsed?” Octarian responded, collapsing into an armchair. As always, he was in a foul mood whenever he had to have a talk with his brother. Being lectured as an opening act didn’t help.

  “You’re still drunk, aren’t you?”

  “No. Not still… again,” Octarian announced proudly, even though he felt more than sober.

  “I thought we agreed to meet before lunchtime. It’s past three o’clock.”

  “Yes, and I just had breakfast. Can we please get on with this… whatever this may be. I don’t want to miss the Finals because of you,” Octarian demanded, knowing it would annoy the Hell out of his brother.

  Lexandros bit back a response.

  “Fine, let’s make this short and painless. Who are you taking to the Academy Ball tomorrow?”

  “Usually Mother picks out someone for me and I haven’t asked her yet.”

  “I know. I took the liberty to select someone for you myself this year.”

  “I can hardly contain my excitement about the sad spinster you will unleash on me,” Octarian said, spreading out in the armchair. He couldn’t care less. He had more important things to think about.

  “I’d like you to take Princess Ariessa Warhorn.”

  Octarian snorted.

  “Princess Loudmouth? Mother will be so pleased.”

  “Yes, she will. It’s as important to her, as to me to maintain a traditionally good relationship with the Emperor of Covax and his family.”

  Octarian thought for a moment.

  “So you’re hoping that once in the company of a Royal who has to make a favourable match in the near future, I will see the errors of my way and land you a politically pleasing marriage.”

  Lexandros shook his head.

  “No. Firstly, she seems to be just as unmanageable as you, therefore her father asked me a favour. Otherwise she would have picked someone just to infuriate Emperor Xisar. Secondly, she would never have you. Apparently she likes tough guys. You’re too soft for the likes of her.”

  “Pffft.”

  “I’m not talking about the hardness of your muscles… or the one in your breeches. She likes men with character.”

  “Men like you, you mean. Sooo devoted, sooo serious and so bloody tedious. Born to rule, born to command, the apple of the eyes of our father,” Octarian burst out bitterly. He was aware that Lexandros’ main aim in life was becoming like the late Emperor. He was reared to be a ruler for as long as Octarian could remember.

  “I don’t have time for this…” Lexandros began, but he was interrupted.

  “Oh, but I think you do.

  You always have time to lecture me, to tell me what a hopeless case I am.

  You always have time to try and convince me that I should live my life like you do. After all, you achieved great things; finished the Academy with outstanding results, got married immediately afterwards; you’re leading the exemplary life that everybody should.

  I’m aware that my existence is a nuisance to you.

  Unless I become just like you.

  So now you’re trying to hook me up with a silly girl just because she’s a Royal, hoping that I’ll take a leaf out of your book, get married and produce lots of Royal offspring… You’re so bloody predictable.”

  “As I said, I doubt she’d be interested in you,” Lexandros said shrugging his shoulders.

  Octarian stopped and looked at him with unmasked animosity.

  “Just how stupid you think I am? You think just because you set me an unappealing challenge, I will fall on my knees and propose to her just to prove you that I could have her? You’re ridiculous.”

  Lexandros steepled his fingers over his desk.

  “By all means, choose Gloria then.”

  Octarian was taken aback for a second.

  Lexandros laughed.

  “You think nobody knows? Have you ever seen yourself being inebriated? I can just imagine you stomping into the Summerwind Palace in the middle of the night waking most of the staff. You think they don’t talk?”

  “Did you talk to Gloria?” Octarian found himself asking, immediately regretting it.

  It might have been a plot… his brother and her.

  “I see what you’re doing now.

  You present me with a challenge in the person of Ariessa, knowing that I won’t take the bait.

  You assume I’ll run to Gloria, just to defy you…

  If I took the bait after all, and rose to the challenge to prove to you that she’d have me and married Ariessa, it would bring you plus points with the Warhorns, but if not… then I’d choose Gloria which would bring us Pyonia; something you wanted to begin with.”

  Lexandros’ head hit the desk.

  “For Gods’ sake, just take the girl to the ball. I promised her father, that’s all. Marry Ariessa, marry Gloria, don’t marry anyone. I don’t care.”

  “Of course, pick this, pick that, marry or don’t marry, make Mother happy or break her heart.”

  Lexandros looked up, feeling utterly exhausted.

  “I didn’t even mention Mother.”
>
  “No, but it was all implied. You just can’t stand her approving of me,” Octarian spat.

  “Preferring you, you mean,” Lexandros said, wishing he didn’t.

  “Oh, just get over yourself, Your Majesty,” Octarian shouted, storming out of the room.

  “Pick up Ariessa at three tomorrow,” Lexandros shouted after him.

  Royal Palace of Stinger, Realm’s Heart Island

  “This might be one of the last times we’ll meet here,” declared Scypian darkly.

  “The Sunflare woman might move in shortly,” he spat.

  Mordan cast his eyes down; yet again he found himself in a situation when he felt that the King wanted him to say something he couldn’t.

  “My King, it’s temporary, you will surely have the palace back,” Noerelle purred.

  “Anyway, that’s not why I had you come, Grimdor,” he turned to Mordan.

  “We would like you to go to Pyonia as soon as you can arrange it.” the King requested.

  “Do you have many relatives in Pyonia?” asked Noerelle.

  “No, only my mother,” Mordan replied curtly.

  His father was a sailor called Nico. He had never married his mother. She had sometimes talked about him. One day he didn’t come back. It was information he wasn’t willing to share.

  “I planned to go anyway in the Autumn Break,” Mordan added.

  “Excellent, excellent. I will have some tasks for you there, but we’ll have more than enough time to discuss them. Good, good. One more thing,” Scypian muttered.

  “Who are you taking to the Academy Ball?” he asked.

  It just occurred to Mordan that with all the turmoil about Gloria and Octarian he didn’t even think about arranging anything. Not that he cared.

  “I might ask one of the Academy girls, there are always some who need an escort at the last minute.”

  “No need,” the King declared with a pleased smile.

  “You will take Lady Noerelle.”

  “I can’t!” Mordan shouted before he could stop himself. His friends would tear him to shreds if he dared to mention her, let alone show up with the girl. Sylvain will be at the ball. With Liona. It would be a scandal.

  Scypian gave him a scathing look.

  “Grimdor, I don’t think you understand the importance of every little detail in our plans. If we ask you to do something, we have a very good reason to. Let me assure you that a Lady of the calibre of dearest Noerelle could find much more sophisticated events for entertainment. With a much more appropriate escort.”

  He was right in one thing; Mordan didn’t understand what could be the strategic value of him falling out with his friends, especially as he was told by Scypian to mend his friendship with Octarian.

  He wasn’t even sure whether these two weren’t merely deluded conspirators, making petty little plans that would lead nowhere, but maybe he was wrong. Lacking any grand plans for his future, he decided to stick with them for the time being. He felt that he had only a few moments to decide whether to stay in the King’s employ.

  “Grimdor, this is non-negotiable,” Scypian said, clearly starting to lose his patience.

  “Don’t be afraid, I’ll behave,” Noerelle giggled at him, earning an amorous look from the King.

  Mordan sighed. He thought that with a bit of luck and some fast talking he could prevent an argument. He stood up and nodded in defeat.

  “I’ll pick you up at three,” he said to Noerelle.

  When he was sure Mordan was gone, Scypian went up to Noerelle and took her hand.

  “I will wait for you after the ball. I will want to hear everything. Also the reason why you need to go there in the first place,” he cooed, looking deeply in her eyes.

  “It might be awfully late by the time I’m back, my King,” she responded coyly.

  “I would wait for you till the end of times,” he muttered, planting kisses on her hand and up her arm.

  “Besides, I’ll have to make sure you are tucked up in your bed after an exhausting night,” he whispered.

  “You’re so bad,” she quickly withdrew her arm and danced a few steps away.

  He followed her, stepping so close he could feel the warmth of her body.

  “When?” he asked with flared nostrils.

  “Soon enough, my King. We have lots to do before we can think of ourselves,” she whispered in his ear.

  Trying to contain his excitement, Scypian took a deep breath. He wiped his brow with a silken handkerchief.

  “Right… you are right of course, my love. When do you think we should introduce Grimdor to his sister?”

  “Not yet… unless we have to. Ideally, it shouldn’t happen before springtime, but of course there are other factors to consider.”

  Swiftarrow Manor, Pyonia

  Tarquin ru’Caberne jumped off the carriage and waited for the driver to hand him his luggage. Considering he had been abroad for four years, it was reasonably small; he preferred travelling light.

  He smiled to himself. At last he could come home. He had never found out why his father wanted him as far as possible away from here.

 

  The last time he had been here was nine years ago, when he left for the Academy. His father and sister would visit him in Realm’s Heart Island during the Academy Breaks. After he had graduated, his father had arranged for him to leave the Realm. He had spent four years in Roditee.

  When he arrived at their house, Tarquin found all shutters closed; the house exuded a sense of abandonment. He felt a little foolish when he grabbed the snake-headed knocker; he was almost sure nobody would answer.

  He listened intently for about a minute, and then knocked again. He was almost about to leave for the local pub to inquire about the whereabouts of his family, when the door opened. Their old Master of House looked at him with undisguised hostility.

  “Good day to you. Can I help you, sir?” the man asked in the most unhelpful voice possible.

  “Greetings… this is my home, Master Fenweed,” uttered Tarquin, feeling strange having to explain himself.

  The man’s face lit up with an unexpectedly warm smile.

  “Young Master Tarquin?”

  Tarquin nodded.

  The man slammed his palms together, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “Welcome home, welcome home, young Master Tarquin. What a joyous day! We have been waiting for this day for so long… so long.”

  Tarquin was taken aback for a moment; he didn’t expect such an enthusiastic welcome.

  “Oh my, oh my, where are my manners?” Fenweed blurted, grabbing Tarquin’s luggage, literally pulling him inside the house.

  “Please, Master Tarquin, take a seat in the salon,” he said, tossing the bag into a corner.

  “Where is everybody?” Tarquin asked looking around, noticing some spider-webs in the corners of the entrance hall, along with an unsightly layer of dust on practically everything.

  “Your lovely sister is out on the town, but she should be back in a very, very short time,” Fenweed said, herding Tarquin towards the salon.

  “I will have your room ready momentarily,” the Master of House assured him with a sickly sweet smile, pouring a drink, and then silently exiting the room.

  Tarquin looked around in the familiar room; he couldn’t help himself, this was home.

  He felt happy.

  He looked out the window and took in the view he had always loved. He sat down, took a drink and leaned back. He wanted to relish the feeling of being back home, but something didn’t feel right.

  The next thing he knew was that he wasn’t able to move.

  Or to see.

  Or to understand.

  He blacked out.

  When he woke, he found himself with a terrible headache, bound and gagged in a very, very dark place.

  Month of the Fox, Early Autumn

  The Academy, Realm’s Heart Island

  Andarian stepped off the podium with a sigh of relief. He
had held his brief – therefore well-received – speech: the Festival and the New Academy Year had now been opened. All he had to do now was to mingle and socialise for the shortest time possible, before he could discretely escape to the comfort of his home.

  Being First Servant made him automatically the Head of the Academy; he didn’t teach anymore, but at occasions like this, he had to be present.

  Even though times were worrying, he had been in a good mood in the last few days. Unbelievable as it was, the Academy Reds had won the Championship, which rendered most of the staff and students delirious with joy. Andarian had been a player himself in his time and an ardent fan of the game all his life. As happy as he was about the victory, this circumstance was only the lesser factor of his contentment.

  Three days previously, he had paid a visit to Gloria to meet her daughter, Nessa. Nocturnia had escorted him, partly because Nessa was her cousin, partly to torture him with mocking remarks about his ‘crush’ on the potential new Empress. She was wrong though; as much as Andarian admired Gloria, he would never have considered a relationship with someone outside the Hidden City. Besides, he was in a happy relationship with Atlaxa Quickfin.

  Nessa was everything Nocturnia promised; he could feel the Aptitudes radiate from the girl. He could see a very faint Equimancer’s Crown – the true sign of someone who had the ability to unlock their talents. Only the ones with strong enough Aptitudes could see it.

  The colour of the Crown depended on the Aptitudes; Fire was red, Water blue, Earth yellow, Air white and mixed Aptitudes had the blend of two colours, depending on the nature of the abilities.

  Both Andarian and Nocturnia were Earth and Fire, hence their Crowns were orange, though Andarian’s was more reddish as Fire was his primary Aptitude, while Nocturnia’s was yellowish for her stronger Earth.

  Nessa’s Crown was rose coloured, the mix of Fire and Air, not sparkling brightly yet, but all the potential was there.

  After carrying out some quick tests, Andarian was satisfied with Nessa’s budding abilities. It was exciting every time they discovered somebody who could potentially become an Equimancer. She was very promising indeed.

  The noise in the Ball Room of the Academy started to reach the level that Andarian found unbearable, so he decided to do his mingling in the less crowded Main Courtyard. He was pleased to see the Quickfin twins, who also hated noisy events just like himself, cornered by dozens of students. He smiled at their desperate attempts of escaping, before he had to remind himself that he was trying to do the same.