Bladesong

Narold was the One of the castle’s squires. Positions coveted by youngers who who hoped to find their way into the ranks of The Guard. As an elder squire, he’d been given the job of ferrying the Night Guard’s words to its captain and, when necessary, to the king himself. This early, very early, morning was such a moment.

His eye still smarted from Master Dolg’s fist as he he made his way to King Ghent’s chamber. Apparently, waking an ancient dwarf was an initiation he'd managed to avoid until that moment and as his eye swelled and blackened, he chose to wear it with a measured pride.

Master Dolg had not read the letter and, after showing him his rather hard, Dwarven fist, instructed him to go directly to Lord King Ghent with haste, if he wish to avoid another rather hard, Dwarven fist.

So, he hastened through the castle until he met the guards at the doors to Ghent’s chambers.

“I’ve an urgent message!” he said as he knelt and held the sealed paper before him.”A visitor who must urgently speak with our Liege, King Ghent! Please, do not strike me.” He added that last request, as he was already tired of being struck. Dwarves have large, meaty hands.

As one of the guards reached for the letter, Ghent’s voice seemed to rattle the doors to his chambers.

“Do not touch it! It is for me and me alone! Allow the squire entry!...Immediately!”

With that, the doors swung open and the guards, as gently as they could, pushed him inside.

Narold knelt again and held the letter before himself. “My Lord King!” he stammered “A visitor, at the southern gate, bade me bring this to you!”

Ghent took the letter from his outstretched hand and spoke. His voice, like distant thunder.”Raise your head, squire! You are doing your king a service. At the very least, look him in the eye.”

“It is not my place, my king!”

“Oh, pish posh! You are a Soloran! Soon to be a warrior in the service of this kingdom and I will not treat you like a hound! Stand up, young Narold Of Ironwood. I will read this letter then instruct you with word to take to your lieutenant. From the look of your face, it seems Master Dolg wouldn’t appreciate a second visit this morning. I suspect he has been in his cups.”

Without even a “Yes, my Lord” he rose and watched his wrapped in a fur, hale and strangely kind king pour out three goblets of ruby wine while he silently read the letter. He paused, briefly to hand one to Narold.

“Drink, boy. It will soothe your eye.”

The squire complied. It was full dark berry flavors and unsweetened sweet. As he drank, his pain and swelling faded.

“Thank you, my king.” he managed in a trembling voice as Ghent finished reading and laid the letter upon a small table.

“Do not thank him, child!” an ancient voice crackled from the hearth on the opposite side of the room. “Thank and old witch for putting you in the presence of Good King Ghent!”

Narold started and turned to see a wizened, old woman emerging from the dying embers of the hearth’s fire. His jaw dropped.

“You need not of frightened the boy Magda!” Ghent chided.”If he is to be a member of my guard, he will learn to understand your visits, and the magics of this keep, but right now he is too young!”

The witch hobbled across the room, conjured a chair of roots and sat next to the second goblet of wine. “I like this boy! He never once considered reading my letter. He is worthy of my lord’s trust!”

At this point Narold’s face had lost all color and he managed to whisper, faintly “My king? I fear that I must pee.”

Ghent smiled. “Be off then, squire! Tomorrow, you eat breakfast with the Guard, not the squires. Welcome to my service and to Castle Solarith.”

He didn’t remember saying “Yes, thank you, my king.”, but he would forever remember the slaps on his shoulder and kind laughter as he passed from the king’s chambers.

It would be several days before Narold would realize that King Ghent had known his full name.