A Call to Arms: Book One of the Chronicles of Arden (41 page)

“Sit down,” the King commanded.

“Y–yes, Sire.”

Gib sank into the chair which was typically so comfortable. Today, it offered no comfort. His mind raced as the three men paced the office and finally came to rest along different surfaces—Koal against the sill, Marc in the chair beside Gib, and the King atop Marc’s desk.

Quiet overtook them for a time and Gib waited on the edge of his seat. A million different ideas ran through his mind, none of them bringing clarity to their current situation. When none of the men offered to break the silence, Gib heard his own shaking voice come out. “Is–is this about the assassin? I’ve told you all I know. I don’t remember a name being mentioned, or an accent. No places were spoken of, not a town or a country—”

Koal shook his head. “No, no. This is nothing to do about any of that. It was determined the assassin was of Ardenian origin. He had a couple of prisoner brands on his shoulder—petty crimes mostly. We didn’t get a name for him and no one claimed him so his body went to a common tomb.” The seneschal frowned. “I don’t suppose we’ll ever figure out who he worked for.”

Marc shuffled a couple of papers in his lap. After what felt like an eternity, the dean cleared his throat. “Ah, here we are. I have your marks here. Have you reviewed them yet?”

Gib shook his head. “I, uh, didn’t know where to find them. I didn’t think to ask.” He tapped his fingers along the arm of the chair.
So this is about my grades? Why is the King here for this?

Marc listed off each score, reading aloud what the professors had to say. A warm blush stole over Gib’s face at the sparse praise from Weapons Master Roland. Lady Beatrice commended Gib on his progress in her law class. Indeed, reading was his only real shortfall—though he’d managed to pass. Barely.

Koal folded his arms over his chest. “What are your plans for the future, Gib? You’re not getting any younger. You must have some plan.”

His mind reeled.
Plans?
He’d never had a plan before. Before Silver City it was plant the crop, harvest the crop, sell the crop, don’t freeze to death, repeat. He hadn’t dedicated much thought to it before now, but it would be a lie to say he hadn’t enjoyed this past year.

“I–I’m not sure, sir.”

Koal tilted his head to the side. “Where is your heart, Gib? Do you long to go back to the farm one day or do you think you could be happy here, in Silver?”

Gib wrung his hands together. “It’s not that simple. If it were just me, I’d stay here I think. But I’ve got two brothers. They still need me.”

Koal nodded. “There are many opportunities in Silver. Your brothers could come to the city if they choose.”

“We’ve already thought of that.” Gib looked out the window at the green blooms and smiled. “Tayver is old enough to find apprentice work. And Cal has had an offer from our neighbor to be a farm hand until he’s old enough to apprentice or enter Academy too. But I still need to talk to both of them about it.” It dawned on him that he still had no idea where any of this was going. “Why, sir?”

Marc shifted in his seat and glanced at the King, who nodded once. Gib sucked in a deep breath and waited. The dean flashed a large smile. “Gib, it is Academy’s decision to recommend you for the scholarly program. This line of training takes four years to complete instead of two, and once you’re fully trained you’ll be able to rise to the highest ranks within the Arden Sentinels or become a politician. One day you could find yourself wearing a red cape or sitting at the royal council table, if you work hard enough.”

Gib’s mind went blank. What? They wanted him to take the advanced courses? Those classes were reserved for students with exceptional grades or who came from nobility. He was neither a star student nor a highborn. They couldn’t be serious. Gib issued an incredulous laugh. “I, uh, I appreciate the recommendation, sir, but I can’t afford those classes. I’d never be able to pay—”

The King had remained quiet until now, content to listen to the conversation and observe them all, but now he raised his voice to interject. “We didn’t recommend you
pay
for the classes—only that you take them.”

“I could take a job, Your Highness, but I still could never repay—”

The King’s frown managed to be even more intimidating than his smile. King Rishi leapt to his feet and paced around Gib’s chair, as graceful as ever, even with his right arm in a sling beneath his cape. “Enough of this job nonsense. You won’t have time for a job with these new classes. Your studies will be much more difficult now—so much you’ll probably question why you agreed to them.” He flashed a wicked grin at Gib’s slack-jawed wonder. “But seeing as you won’t have a job, you should be able to keep yourself at the top of your class, correct?”

“Y–yes, Your Highness!”

King Rishi smiled devilishly as he walked to the door. “Good. I would expect nothing less from a self-made hero, Gibben Nemesio of Willowdale. Don’t disappoint those who have put their faith in you.” And without a single word of goodbye, he left, the door banging shut behind him.

Mouth ajar, Gib could think of nothing to say.
What just happened?

His confusion must have been apparent, for Marc barked a laugh. “Well done, Gib! The King is rarely so open with anyone. He must truly like you.”

Gib swallowed. “I would never have guessed.”

More laughter met his ears and Koal came to him a moment later to clap a hand on his back. “You needn’t worry for the cost of the classes, Gib. I stepped forward to sponsor you, and after the events from the Aithne ceremony, King Rishi offered free tuition for you anyway. There is nothing else you need do. Just show up when planting is done and resume your classes.”

Gib’s head swam. Looking at Koal, he wasn’t sure he was really seeing the seneschal. He wasn’t sure if any of this was real or merely a figment of his imagination. When he came back to Academy, he’d be on the same career path as Tarquin. Gib couldn’t imagine what his other friends—Kezra, Nage, Diddy, Joel, and everyone else—would have to say. “Th–thank you. I don’t—I—thank you.”

Koal smiled. “No, thank you. We’ll see you in a couple of moonturns, Gibben Nemesio.”

With war imminent and the High Council of Arden and King Rishi Radek at odds with one another, what will become of Gib and his friends? Find out in
Nightfall: Book Two of the Chronicles of Arden
. Available now on Amazon
here
!

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