Chapter 6

Brother Tomlin was short rather scrawny man who always seemed to be worried about everyone else. He served more as a servant to Brother Valdin, one of the king’s advisors than anyone else which is why Orin often thought of him as “Mouth.” If Brother Tomlin ever had a choice, he came down on the negative side.
“Your shoes are scuffed, Your Highness. Was it my imagination, or were you up in a tree? And where’s your hat?”
“I believe I am expected in the throne room shortly.” Prince Orin walked briskly through the courtyard towards the keep. Brother Tomlin, with his short legs, struggled to keep up.
“Yes, of course, but Brother Valdin said I should—”
“I’m heading that way now. I wouldn’t want to miss Great Mage Lasser and his Grand Visitation.”
“Well, Brother Valdin says that Lasser is actually the least powerful of—”
“Master Lasser was the one who chose my mother as King. I believe we owe him a great deal of respect.”
“Yes, of course, but Brother Valdin thinks that—”
“Yes, I know.”
“You do?”
“Absolutely.”
They reached the keep and began to pick of various court members. First of all there were the lordlings, young men waiting for their fathers to die or give them land of their own to rule. There was a flock of them, waiting at the drawbridge, trying to look inconspicuous as they casually joined the fast paced prince. All were dressed in tight trousers, three layer coats, curled slippers, flouncy neck cloths and large feathered hats. They scrambled like hens, the ones with the richest fathers pushing towards the front.
Next came their various squires and servants, coupled with a few second sons. Most of them had been playing a dice game against the inner wall. Their costumes were less elaborate than the lordlings, but they still competed amongst themselves for the largest feathers and more elaborate embroideries.
When they reached the great hall, the Brothers of Tamarin, most of them his tutors, stood expectantly on the left, waiting with books in hand to impress their joys and lessons on a moldable prince. On the right, were all the eligible daughters of the lords Galadin, all batting their eyes and pretending to be faint, hoping to draw Orin’s attention.
By the time they reached the throne room, there were forty two people tagging along. They sorted themselves out as they joined the crowd already assembled. Lords stood at the front, followed by the brothers. The lordlings gathered along the middle stretch, mingling with the ladies and daughters. Second and third sons stood slightly to the back, hanging closer to the gathering of servants and squires.
Orin simply marched down the center corridor and up the stairs of the dais to take his seat to the left of the throne. Just as he began to sit, Brother Valdin swept in through the rear door and knocked his staff three times against the floor.
“Rise and be ready for the presence of Deseda, King of all Galadin, Protector of the Innocent, Provider for the Hungry, and Punisher of Evil Doers!”
As he was the only one actually sitting, Prince Orin stood while the rest of the court faced formed the neat aisle and bowed low. Without any hint of nonsense in her being, King Deseda marched down the aisle and paused only to lift her skirts to navigate the stairs of the dais. She turned and expertly flipped the back of her train before sitting on the grand throne.
She nodded at Orin, giving him permission to sit beside her.
“Her Royal Highness, King Deseda of Galadin now presides. Long may her glorious reign lead to prosperity for all Galadin,” Brother Valdin said, before sitting to the right of the king.
Deseda turned a critical eye towards her son, and it appeared to miss nothing. Orin refused to flinch.
“You look like your father,” she said tersely. This was not a compliment. King Deseda had never been under the impression that she’d married a smart man. He had been a baker, plain, simple, and good at his job. When the court had finally agreed to give him the title of Prince, Lorn had gone out and gotten himself eaten by a dragon.
Prince Orin wisely stayed silent, a practiced smile on his face. A large rosy woman began the Galadinian National Anthem, while the court collectively tried to hide the fact that they were all completely at the mercy of the Great Mage as far as his arrival time was concerned.
It seemed a great way to travel, on a whim and a thought. There were so many places Orin had thought to visit, but the farthest he’d ever traveled was to the Lake of the Tarjeta, which was scarcely a day’s ride. His mother seemed content to stay firmly within the walls of the city, letting the brothers and lords bring their problems to her.
A sudden collective ooh, drew Orin’s attention back to the center of the court. Great Mage Lasser stood solidly before the dais, acknowledging the king with a simple nod. There was no finery about him. He wore the white cassock of the Great Mage with a simple green belt. His eyes were direct and straightforward, carrying a seriousness that seemed to belie the scarcely bearded face they occupied. If taken upon looks, Orin would have guessed Master Lasser to be his contemporary, and not at least twenty years his senior.
“I bring greetings, King Deseda. The Mages of Tamarin send their salutations and well wishes,” Master Lasser began. His language had become much more polished since the first time Prince Orin remembered him. He’d come to deliver the Mages’ regret and sympathy upon the death of his father ten years ago. That night, Lasser had stumbled over every phrase.
“I have come to relay their continued support of your reign as king, and if you have no other pressing concerns, I shall in turn relay your greetings.”
“We thank you,” Deseda began, “and sincerely wish that together we will continue to serve the will of the people.”
“And Lasser,” Brother Valdin stepped forward, holding his staff out before him like a monolith. “The king would be pleased if you’d join us in a feast in honor of the Great Mages.”
“Actually, I’m kind of in a hurry.” Lasser smiled sheepishly, breaking from the formality of his previous attitude. “We’ve got a bit of a situation. It’s under control, but I’ve got to get going. So if you haven’t got anything else to talk about…”
“I was hoping to bring it up at dinner,” Brother Valdin continued. King Deseda was glaring at her chief advisor.
“There is the matter of King Desesa’s successor to consider,” Brother Valdin said.
“There’s nothing to consider,” his mother said forcefully. “My son Prince Orin is the crown prince and the only one in line for the throne.”
“But, King Deseda, as wise and regal as she is, won the crown in a contest. Why should her son win it by birth?” Valdin was now speaking more to the court than to Master Lasser. Orin could see the suggestion rippling through the crowd of lordlings, squires, and even brightening the eyes of a lady or two.
“But my son has been raised to take my place. He’s as well rounded as any king has ever been.” She stood and placed her hands on her hips. “ He knows military history, art history. He fights. He’s honorable. He even cooks!”
“I do not say anything against Prince Orin. He is a fine upstanding young man, but why should other young men be deprived of the same chance that you were given?”
Brother Valdin did have a point. After all, it wouldn’t be very chivalrous for him to take the crown if there was someone better suited for the job. Orin had never really thought about it before. It had always just been assumed.
“He’s right, Mother.”
“Sit down.”
“But—”
“But nothing. Sit.” He sat.
“Now you listen here.” Deseda pointed her finger at Brother Valdin. “Don’t even think for one minute that I don’t get what you’re doing here.”
Brother Valdin blinked once, slowly and then smiled wryly. “I’m already done.” He turned towards the crowd, which was already eagerly chatting in anticipation. The squires were already taking bets on the new king.
“I really need to go,” Master Lasser stated to no one in particular. He had lost his air of command and was glancing around in growing panic as the lords around him discussed how they planned to beat the new labyrinth.
“It’s not fair,” King Deseda shouted. The din simply got louder. She grabbed the staff from the smug Valdin and banged it against the floor. A few courtiers glanced over at the racket, then continued their discussions.
“Lasser! Do something!”
Suddenly it began to rain. Large drops began to pelt the courtiers, drooping their feathered hats and running the colors of their embroidery. The excited conversations turned into shrieking and cowering as the members of the court ran to avoid the water that was falling unceasingly from the ceiling. They scrambled to and fro, some running in circles. Watching, Orin considered himself lucky to have given away his hat earlier this morning. As the water hit, the brims dripped and marred the wearer’s view, causing quite a few accidents that ended in piles of limbs. Lasser stood in the center, dry and steady as a stone.
As suddenly as it had come, the rain ceased. The courtiers stopped mid shriek to look up and admire the dry vaulted ceilings.
“I really do have better things to be doing.” Lasser cast a piteous gaze on a group of courtiers who had fallen and still not managed to get up.
“I think perhaps a compromise is in order.” King Deseda said as she surveyed her subjects from the dais. She too, was inexplicably dry. “Master Lasser will provide a quest for my son to complete. If he is successful, he will become the crown prince. If he fails, which he won’t, then the Great Mages will arrange another contest open to all citizens of Galadin.”
His mother glared down at Master Lasser, who in turn stared at the courtiers around him who waited for his reply.
“Fine. A quest. But a quick one.”
“Yes,” his mother nodded.
“But a challenging one. Otherwise it will have no validity.” Brother Valdin rung out his brown cassock.
“Okay. What did you have in mind?” The mage asked.
“Well, I… What is this pressing business you have? Would that make a good quest?” King Deseda said.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
“Of course it is. No task is too difficult to prove the worthiness of the next king of Galadin.” Valdin smiled broadly.
“Well, we’re looking for seeds. Seeds of the…” Lasser pulled a slightly crumpled piece of paper out of his sleeve. “Alban, Bethda and Gamana trees.”
“Are you sure that is hard enough?” Valdin prompted.
“We don’t know where they are exactly, except not in Galadin. And it’s rather hard to find something if all you have to go on is it’s not here.” Lasser shoved the note back up his sleeve.
“You mean I get to travel?” Orin chest tightened and his breath came a little quicker.
“There’s always traveling in a quest,” Lasser said.
Prince Orin stepped forward. “I’ll take it.”
“Wait a minute, Orin. Don’t be so brash. Remember what happened to your father.”
“Mother, I promise I won’t get eaten or die.”
“How can you promise such a thing? We all die sometime. I just don’t want you to go and do it now.”
There was a sadness in his mother’s eyes that was nearly masked by determination. She’d learned how to get her way during the past 12 years of her reign. Today, she was going to have to compromise.
“Do I start now?”
“I suppose tomorrow morning’s good enough,” Lasser shrugged.
“Aren’t you going to give him anything else? Are you just going to send my son out into the wilderness full of dragons and other dark creatures?”
“I… this wasn’t my idea.”
“Well, you need to give him a special gift. A questing gift. In case of an emergency.”
“I do?”
“That’s how these things go.”
“Funny, I thought we were making it up as we went along.” Lasser patted down his robe, searching for something, his hands lit upon an unobtrusive leather pouch that hung from his green belt. He hesitated for a moment, before unbuckling it, but then purposely examined it. Lasser mounted the steps to the dais.
“Only in case of extreme emergency should you open this pouch.” He handed it over. Orin accepted it with a gravity that seemed slightly ridiculous for a beat up old leather pouch that had a hole burnt into the side.
“Good luck.” Master Lasser extended his hand and Orin shook it firmly.
“Thanks.”
With a curt nod to the king, the Great Mage evaporated into thin air.