Noble Beginnings (25 page)

There, he saw was Thea herself, holding a
pile of bandages and following Berta around, somehow looking both
perfectly regal and utterly out of her element at the same time.
And then...

"Brother!" He heard two nearly identical
squeals and disentangled himself from Marcus and Iain with a smile
of thanks; two seconds later, he was being embraced by one sister
on either side, their arms tight with joy and relief.

"Addie, Nora," he whispered, holding them
close.

It's over, he thought, stunned. The words
felt almost impossible, even in his head, but he also knew somehow
that they were undeniably true.

“We're free.”

CHAPTER XXII

Dorran was among the soldiers who spent the
evening dozing close to the healer's tent, which was so overrun
that patients and well wishers alike slept mixed together outside,
looking out for each other. He spent much of the next day
patrolling the capital's borders with a small group of the Guard,
while most of the rest of the capital's defenders worked on
dismantling the outside bases and fortifications. Runners sped back
and forth for the duration of the day, communicating the terms of
Thea's victory to the tiny remnant of enemy soldiers that were
angling to be released to the border without more violence.

Dorran was kept very busy in the few days
after the battle. There was word to be sent everywhere as the
residual chaos of battle was swept away families to reconnect to
fighters, dead to be honored, injured to be considered, food stores
to be rationed, and other miscellaneous news flitting about
everywhere. Dorran himself had received dozens of letters of
admiration from both noble and common families, and had no idea
what to do with them all he figured he'd ask Myriel for her
guidance when some of the furor died down.

In all the chaos, though, he'd almost
forgotten about the prisoners still held below the castle. It
wasn't until Thea summoned him and asked him for his opinion that
he remembered they were below his feet. He asked Thea to give him a
day to consider the issue, and after spending a few hours
considering it from his room, walked down to the dungeons to see
the problem for himself.

It turned out that the question of what to do
with the prisoners was a bit more multifaceted than he'd
anticipated. While most of the guards were stoic about their work
watching the enemy soldiers, many were bitter towards their wards
for the time and resources they now sapped from the country they'd
tried to destroy. Aside from their injuries to be treated and the
threat of further damage to the castle they posed should escape
attempts be made, they were also eating food that Farlan could
barely afford to spare them. Dorran could see why Thea had asked
him for his opinion, and settled in to gather as much information
as he could.

The men in the cells watched him warily as he
walked down the halls of the dungeon with a few of the guards,
talking over the problems of the prisoners in low but confident
voices. Their eyes were drawn to the brand on his forehead, but few
of them seemed willing to meet his eye.

Apparently, a few attempts had been made to
question the men, but there was nothing for them to reveal, save
what they already suspected: that they were the only force the King
had been able to spare. More importantly, the soldiers were a mixed
group, some of them were young and full of spirit and loyalty, and
others old and locked in their loyalty to the King, but many had
joined his army under the demands of poverty, unwanted duty, or
force. Most of them were despairing, knowing that they were trapped
in enemy territory with little hope of escape and not much to gain
even beyond it.

Dorran tried talking to some of the men
himself, but they were inclined not to listen to him because of his
youth and then, after one of the more irritable guards took to
shouting, because he was the son of the Queen. Dorran admitted to
himself that he would have to tell Her Majesty that solving the
problem of the prisoners would take time and promise to work
towards a solution.

He was on his way out when a finger tapped at
his sleeve. Startled, he quickly turned to face the owner of the
reaching hand, a young man with a long face, sandy brown hair, and
a slightly devilish expression.

"What?" he asked flatly, still trying to
recover his dignity.

"Sorry, sir," the man said pleasantly, though
Dorran couldn't shake the feeling he was amused and just being
polite. "I wanted to ask you something'. My name is Lem, by the
way. I was one of His Majesty's soldiers, which I am sure you
guessed already."

Dorran stared at him, surprised, but the
display of civility was a welcome change and he found himself
saying, "All right, Lem, I can take a minute. What was it you
wanted to ask me?"

"Well, maybe more than one question," Lem
admitted with a sheepish but knowing grin. "I've heard some good
things indeed about your queen, however short her reign, and I'm
curious. You're the captain of the guard, aren't you?"

"How do you know that?" Dorran asked.

"Well, I'm actually from one of the more
distant Kingdoms," Lem replied. "We don't see much of the places
like Farlan over there, so I've read about more of you lot than
I've seen. Still, I know about the tradition of branding the
forehead of servants, and I saw the flag of Farlane. It wasn't hard
to put the two together.

"As for 'Captain of the Guard,' well..." He
grinned shiftily. "I wasn't sure, but call it a lucky guess."

Dorran found himself grinning back,
surprised. There was more than one thing odd about this fellow, but
he found himself taking a genuine shine to the fellow remarkably
quickly.

"So, why are you in the King's army, then?"
he asked, trying for stern but falling, he suspected, slightly
short.

"Well..." Lem chewed on his lip. "My family
was coming close to starvin', and where I'm from, givin' up a boy
can mean quite a bit of gold. Actually," he added, leaning forward
and speaking in a lower voice, "I'd not be surprised if most of
these lads were the same way. You know?"

Dorran nodded. "Yes, I do. I'm trying to
figure out what to do with you all."

"I was wondering, actually," the man said in
an offhand way. "This Guard's pretty newly formed, right? What does
it take to be a member?"

Dorran blinked, then gave the man a long look
up and down, being sure to take in the prison bars and his ragged
Kingdoms uniform.

Lem laughed a little at that. "Fair enough,
sir. I don't suppose you could take a fellow on a trial see how
loyal he can prove to be?"

Dorran raised an eyebrow at the man. "I'll
think about it," he said, then swept away before he could show any
more accidental good humor to the man.

It was a thought, though, Dorran mused as he
walked back down the hall and saw men brooding in corners, men
singing to themselves, and men talking about everything and nothing
and wondering what supper would be. He wouldn't be able to trust
them right away, of course, but he could still give them the
option, just as Thea had for her would be assassins. Only this
time, with his mother's permission, he could offer them a new
opportunity, if they were loyal and willing: a chance to wear the
two moons on their foreheads, and serve Farlan and her Queen.

EPILOGUE

"Queen's Guard Captain! Open the gates!"

The cry echoed over Dorran's head as he sat
astride his mount, looking up at the newly repaired gates to the
capital of Farlan. He watched the newly forged metal portcullis
lift ponderously into the chill winter sky, then nudged his horse
forward and past the city's outer walls.

Barely half a year of hard work after the
King's attack on Farlan, most of the damage to the capital had been
repaired in time for the harsher weather of winter, which was now
drawing to a close. It was also busier than ever every day, with
new immigrants pouring in from all corners of the Kingdoms. Farlan
had a standing military, but was not actively at war with any of
the duchies or kingdoms around it, so it was an ideal haven for
trade as well as for families that were sick of the demands of
military campaigns. It meant that the town was a bit poorer and
dirtier than it had once been, especially around the edges of the
city, but Dorran thought it was probably worth it to see the city
grow and flourish instead of the way it had seemed before, always
fading with the ghosts of men long gone and families long fled.

There were still more women in the town than
men, but with the impact of the war stretching all over the
Kingdoms as it did, that was hardly surprising. What was
surprising, though, was how quickly and efficiently the women in
Farlan, following Thea's example, had started taking over
everything from politics to artisan shops to scholastic realms. The
only field in which men still outnumbered women was the
military...though if Edith and her rapidly expanding fighting
school for women had any say in the matter, the scales for that,
too, might tip, someday in the far-off future. And in the meantime,
further warfare seemed blessedly unlikely Nora had been sent as an
ambassador to the King several weeks after the release of the first
prisoners to the border, and while no one (except perhaps the
Queen) had any idea what had transpired there, the King had been
much more cordial in his relations to Farlan ever since.

Dorran slipped from his horse and shook out
his shoulders, giving him horse an affectionate pat on the nose
before giving him over to a stable hand named Amy. He tossed her a
coin in exchange for unsaddling him a task he would normally
undertake himself and hurried on.

He entered the castle through the barracks a
route which had always been his favorite, but was even dearer to
him now because of what was going on inside. The training hall was
again filled with excited shouts and the clashing of blades, but
the noise was louder than ever almost deafening, even in the
hallway, when compared to the quiet outside. Knowing he had a bit
of time left before his appointment, he decided to take a detour
and check how the formal training of Farlan's small militia was
progressing.

When he pushed the door open, he saw a crowd
on the other side. There were hundreds of men and women, separated
into dozens of groups and training at a variety of levels.

"Ho, Edith!" he called, raising a hand, and
all the students that noticed his arrival saluted him smartly
before returning their attention to their comrades.

Edith took a second to complete an
instruction to one of her younger students, then strode over,
raising a hand of her own in greeting.

"Sir! How was the final delivery?" she
asked.

"It went perfectly smoothly," he said. "It
was a bit odd, at first, having some of the King's old soldiers
helping us guard the last batch of prisoners. But I saw nothing
suspicious not even any riots from the prisoners this time." He
grinned. "They may have been the ones to tell us they wanted to
return to the Kingdoms, but I think even these prisoners might have
developed a soft spot for this place."

Edith gave him a faint smile of her own.
"Maybe." Her mouth took on an amused tilt. "And where are the rest
of your troops?"

"I left them behind an hour or two back," he
admitted, slightly abashed. "I have an audience with the Queen I
can't afford to miss."

"Is that so?" she asked. She was trying for
her normal deadpan response, Dorran could tell, but the twinkle in
her eye ruined the effect.

"It is." Dorran shot her a quick, slightly
nervous grin before settling back into a semblance of business.
"Anyway, how is this lot holding up?"

"Well," she said, but then put her hand on
her hip as she added, "Though I told you already that we'll need
more space soon. If you can't give me a solid answer on a
supplementary training area, I'm going to have our fighters
training in the hallways for extra space."

"I understand," he said quickly. "I'll have
one for you soon, I promise."

Edith looked unimpressed. "You'd better."

"I will. Ah..." Dorran recognized the
convenient opportunity to escape her demanding gaze, and took it.
"Well, in any case, I really should be going," he said hastily,
fidgeting nervously with the sword on his hip. "I don't want to
keep Her Majesty waiting."

"I'm sure." Edith didn't protest, but that
flat gaze of hers followed him out, and Dorran couldn't help
heaving a sigh of relief as he shut the training hall doors quietly
behind him. Then he continued the rest of the way up to the castle
proper, continuing straight to the Queen's chambers on the upper
floors of the castle.

He had requested a private audience with
Queen Thea upon his return through a short letter that he'd sent
ahead. He'd made a point of arriving in plenty of time for it, and
was fairly confident that his request would be met with approval,
but found his heart thudding nervously all the same as he waited
outside the entrance to the Queen's private council chamber.

"Come in," Thea called, and Dorran strode
past the guard on duty Kell and into the Queen's audience.

She looked the happiest Dorran had seen her
since before the death of Duke Jaren, seeming to flourish as Farlan
flourished. Dorran, for his part, found more joy in serving her
than he ever had in his preparation to be her heir, and had learned
that she saw nothing wrong with lavishly praising his work when
such praise was well earned.

"Your Majesty," he said now, kneeling.

"Son," Thea said warmly, and Dorran took that
as his cue to stand and smile at her. "It is a pleasure to see you
returned safe and well, with your errand well run."

"I thank you, Mother," he said, "for your
praise and the honor of your ear. As the captain of your Guard, and
as your son, there is something I would ask of you."