Chapter 5: An Oath of Reality

Tariv's story

                           Chapter

 

                              

                                 5

 

                   An Oath Of Reality

 

 

    Tariv Surn'Varn wiped sweat absently from his brow and looked upon the massive armed encampment located in the distance with fascination. It stretched as far as he cared to see, which was a considerable distance. He prided himself on his curiosity after all. It was literally in the thousands in men, animals, and equipment. He couldn't wait to go down into it and see if it was all it looked to be.

    He had lived at the castle for the better part of eighteen months and outside of finding the great library it held this was about the most exciting thing he had seen the entire time. He couldn't wait to sit down and talk it over with Malcohm and Rodrin. He doubted they had been upon the battlements to see what he saw. They would be all over his words as he regaled them with what he saw.

    Thinking about his two friends, he decided to cut short his observations to go run and tell them what he was seeing before word got to them ahead of him. He grabbed up his jacket and fumbled to make sure his short sword was fixed correctly upon his body before settling his glasses on his head firmly and beginning the descent down the stairs. He made his way down to the first landing and nodding to some of the guards he knew. Several of them squatted in a corner play an odd game featuring cards and dice. He started towards the men while reaching for a coat pocket to withdraw a note pad, but shook his head. He wanted to talk to his friends first, then he could come back and find out how the game was played.

    With a regretful look at the game he made his way down the stairs until he made it into the massive first court yard. He paused to watch the crowded court yard as the hustle and flow of the castle continued. Supplies came in and out of the castle along with servants, men-at-arms, lord's and ladies and all those in between. Carts and wagons laden with beer barrels, wine barrels, foods, armor, and anything in between. Vendors had there wares out selling goods as well. Tariv found it overwhelming at times and preferred to normally take an alternate route, but his stomach had picked a fine time to start growling during the descent. He figured stopping in for a quick lunch wouldn't delay him for very long.

    With a deep breath he plunged into the chaotic sea of people and began weaving his way through. He ducked behind a group of husky men carrying large sacks of grain to avoid the eye of Master Alimor and hunched his shoulders as if he could feel the man's eyes boring into him. The Master of Mathematics had been hounding him for days to turn in his lessons, and Tariv had done his best to avoid the man. He knew it was just a matter of time before the man took it to a higher authority, but Tariv found no love of the mathematics field. He thought it a boring subject compared to his studies of geography and history. He breathed a sigh of relief when he blended back into the crowd and could no longer see Alimor. What the man was doing in the common court yard was a bit baffling in itself, but Tariv shrugged it off.

    He weaved his way past carts, servants, soldiers and others and made his way to the doors leading to the common eating area. The doors were thrown wide open with the heat and he stepped into with some relief. It wasn't much cooler on the inside than it was on the outside, but it did a good job of keeping the suns rays from cooking him proper. He turned his sword and helm over to the armory servants and turned away as they marked his name down. It was forbidden within the halls of the castle to go armed unless you were in the castle guard or had been given special permission from the high lord himself. Tariv didn't have the nerve to work up the courage to ask for such permission.

    He next made his way over to the line waiting to wash their hands before proceeding to the food lines. If he had wanted he could have moved to the head of the line by using his station, but the very thought of doing that horrified him. He was almost an outcast at the castle as it was. The servants and common folk had been the first to embrace him openly and he would always be grateful to them for it. When his turn came he used a bar of soap and warm water to wash his hands and took the small wipe towel a blushing maid servant handed to him with a shy smile. He smiled back a bit puzzled why she was blushing and he wiped his hands and dropped the towel in the appropriate basket.

    He made his way over to the line leading to the food being served by servants. He picked up a wooden tray, spoon, fork, and a small knife and waited his turn. Soon he was walking away with a tray full of meats, vegetables and thick slices of bread, as well as a large cup of apple cider. His stomach gave an appreciative growl and he fought back a grin in agreement. Looking around he choose a bench near one of the stone pillars that helped hold the hall and seated himself. Soon he was engrossed in the business of eating.

    He looked around after several minutes as the last person who sat at the bench he was at left. It was slightly off away from the other benches so offered some privacy. He cast a swift glance around and seeing the coast was clear, set aside his utensils and happily dug in with his hands. He chomped away happily while thinking pleasant thoughts. He was feeling pleased with himself until a shadow fell over him and with it came a familiar voice.

    "Oh, Tariv, this is such a sad sight. Eating with your hands like a poor gutter rat?"

    Tariv hastily grabbed the towel and wiped his hands off. He looked up with a scowl. "What do you want Evana? I'm surprised you even knew how to get to this part of the castle."

    Evana smiled indulgently, as if he was a child that needed to be humored. She patted his cheek. "I saw you from the Crowned tower coming in here while I was receiving my harp lessons and thought I'd come see why mingling with the common people seems to entertain you so much."

    Tariv wanted to growl at her. She had been the bane of his existence since he had made it to the castle. Dear cousin Evana with her comments and looks. Always seeming to get the better of him. He gritted his teeth. It was bad enough to get treated like a child by the High Lady, but it was much worse to be treated like one by people not much older than he was. He found himself praying often that the majority of the castle didn't know just how he was treated.That would certainly be a hard thing to live down.

    "That is none of your business." He said it a bit too stiffly, but he shoved aside that thought. "Shouldn't you be on your way to get your hair fixed up for tonights ball?"

    "May I join in?"

    Tariv came close to choking on the piece of chicken, that he had been in the defiant process of wolfing down, in the hope of chasing away Evana. She was a stickler for proper eating, so he had been more than sure that it would have worked. He wondered if his face could get any redder than it already must, and he cringed inside at the thought of how foolish he must look.

    Evana patted him on the back until he managed to dislodge the chicken. He grabbed the towel with as much dignity as possible and wiped off his mouth while drawing in deep breathes. He stood up as best he could and kissed the ring of the heir to the High Lord-Barony, Kateritsa Omarin. Looking around the room, he could see that everyone was either kneeling or curtsying, except for her ladies-in-waiting and Evana.

    ''Milady," he said, somehow finally managing to find his voice. Before arriving at the castle, he had never met a woman who could outshine the sun, but then again before arriving at the castle he had also thought little of poetry. In the year he had been at the castle he had only seen the Lady Kateritsa a handful of times, with the majority of them being at functions of one sort or another. It was a pity that he could never remember his dreams, because without a doubt she had to be in the majority of them. She was looking doubly good to him in a simple silk dress of light blue with dark blue stitching with the myriad slashes of rank that she was accorded. He closed his mouth for fear of drooling. Her emerald eyes had a playful light to them that made him grin like an idiot.

    He cleared his throat several times and glanced askance at Evana. She had both hands over her mouth as if to keep herself from giggling out loud. He scowled at her. What was so funny? He forced himself to remain cool and made a gesture for Kateritsa to take a seat. When Evana started laughing out loud and Kateritsa sent him an amused half scandalized look, he realized his mistake. He imagined that his face was red enough to pass for a tomato.

    ''Kat...," Evana said in between giggles, "how do you manage to catch them so easily?" Both of them shared a look before breaking out into bubbly laughter.

    Tariv glared at Evana. He felt like a fish out of water. He did not get what was so funny.

    ''Pray shed light on how you do it," Evana said, wiping tears from her eyes. She fell into more fits of laughter at the look on Tariv's face.

    Tariv held back an ungentlemanly snort and looked down the table at the ladies-in-waiting. They were talking amongst themselves in a tight-knit group and giving him furtive looks and giggling behind hands. He had a sinking feeling and hoped they weren't discussing how he was looking the fool. Thankfully everyone was no longer kneeling or curtsying, but unfortunately they were all glancing over in his direction. Oh, they pretended to be going about their business when he was not looking, but he knew better.

    He found himself no longer hungry, and he didn't know if that was a good sign or a bad one. He hated being the center of attention. He suspected he knew what Evana meant by 'Catch them so easily' and he was a bit miffed by that. He detested gossip of that type and he was not some moon struck calf-eyed boy! Only a blind sow would not be able to notice Kateritsa beauty.

    Now, he was under no illusion that he would have a chance with her. Some of the most powerful men in the kingdom were said to be vying for her hand. Rumor even had it that both of the kings' sons were making a play for her hand. He didn't plan on settling down early, so it was no loss to him. He found himself saying that often. She was older than him by a few years too. He stopped himself from reaching out to touch her golden blond hair to see if it felt as soft as it looked. He didn't want to look anymore simple-minded than he already felt.

    ''Ah...milady...what are you doing down here?" He asked. This was the first time he had seen Kateritsa in this part of the castle with only her ladies-in-waiting and not her usual pack of servants and lords trailing behind her.

    ''I came to find Evana," Kateritsa said, with a delicate frown at Tariv's plate. "When I learned that she had come down here, and by herself, I did not know what to think. She always was able to give her minders the slip." Kateritsa and Evana shared a conspiratorial smile. "But then a thought did occur to me. I recalled the rumor that you liked to come here to eat your breakfast and midday meals with the soldiers, peasants and help.''

    Tariv reseated himself and put his hands under his chin and rested his elbows on the table. The disregard amongst the nobility for the less fortunate in the world could be appalling at times. He wondered if the nobility in the other nations held similar thoughts.

    ''I just came from looking at the army, milady," he said with a thoughtful look. ''It's an amazing sight and scene to behold. Say, you don't think that you could...'' He cut that thought off with a dismissive gesture. ''Never mind what I was about to say." He wiped sweat from his face with a handkerchief from his jacket. ''It's not the mildest day to be outside." He glanced at Evana, curious as to why she was being silent.

    ''Father Mihcros and Father Erlin are going to hold early mass tomorrow, " Evana finally chimed in. "Are you going to show up? Last time--''

    ''I'll be there," Tariv said quickly. Evana talked too much. It was alarming how she knew so much about what he did. He chewed his lips and fidgeted on the bench. Removing his glasses he cleaned them and deposited them back in his jacket. They were a necessity, but they made him feel old. Both of the girls seemed to take pleasure in making him uncomfortable. Well, today he was not going to hang around to be their whipping boy. He coolly took a sip of the water and sighed in exaggerated contentment. Maybe he would take a trip to the library to continue his studies. Books did not turn ones head inside out nearly as much as women seemed to do it.

    "There is something very unique about you, Tariv," Evana said leaning in and lowering her voice to a whisper where only Kateritsa could hear what she told him. She looked at his hands, which still had grease upon them, and pursed her lips. "You are a perfect gentleman to the core.'' She gave him a concerned look when he choked on the water that he had been swallowing. ''I wonder why that serving girl---What was her name?---has not taken notice of you." She gave a triumphant smile at the horrified look on his face.

    Tariv opened his mouth several times to say something, but could think of nothing to say, so he closed it with an audible click. "What are you..." He trailed off and took a large swallow of water. "What are you gossiping about! What girl...what girl are you talking about?"

    Evana looked at Tariv with mock sadness before glancing at Kateritsa. "So young," she said with a slow shake of her head. "Why don't you try some of that book smarts of yours on her, Tariv?'' She gave Tariv a look through veiled lashes, all the while ignoring the dark scowl on his face. "I hear from the other servant girls...that your tongue is not of silver, but made of the purest gold. Is that so?"

    With a barely suppressed groan, Tariv covered his head with his jacket, and wished he was anywhere but there. You write two or three poems, that you thought were good romantic poems, and read them to a few of the servant girls... He glared at Evana. Why did she always have to get in his business and try to make him feel like a fool? Damn her and her ways. One day he'd find a way to turn the tables on her.

    He stood up abruptly and refused to give Evana the satisfaction of looking at her. For her information he had not been chasing that damn girl! He knew of the castle rumors of Lord Charles and Penela. For some reason girls seemed to prefer arrogant vapid fools.

    "If you will excuse me, ladies," he said with a short, jerky bow, "I have errands to run." He grabbed his jacket, leaving the plate for the cleaning servants. He checked his short sword to make sure that it was buckled on properly and stalked towards the exit.

    He made a detour to one of the walls and picked out a leather helm to wear. He wished longingly for a long sword to wear instead of the puny short sword. Even though he had almost sliced off the leg of Sergeant Antilan while trying to practice with one, he resented the fact that he had been banned from practicing with them. The sergeant had managed to parry the sword so he was miffed at the restriction in arms.

    As he left the building, hot air rushed out to greet him, and he had to pause to accustom his eyes to the brightness of the day again. He had something of importance to request of the High Lord-Baron. He was more than ready to join the army and he wanted to get some kind of rank, but wasn't sure how to go about getting it due to his youth. He was sick of the heckling and insults of the others at his expense because he had been given a late start in learning the marshal arts.

    He was the youngest lord at the castle. He had found that out as a bit of a shock, before realizing that it was a war camp and thus there would be no youthful lord's and ladies present. He knew a great deal about the military from his studies and had chanced upon several different old military strategy books that he doubt the others had been privy too. He'd be a valuable asset, he kept telling himself. He just needed to impress the High Lord-Baron with his knowledge and improving skills.

    Tariv cast a brief look at the High Lord-Baron's living quarters and wrinkled his brow speculatively. The High Lord-Baron was one of the big powers in the kingdom, and though Tariv had to admit he had no idea why the man had chosen such a remote place to live in, men of power came from all over the kingdom to visit him. Tariv was intimidated by the man and was loath to bother him. From what he had been able to piece together, Lord Larsiv had left the capitol over a trivial dispute with the king and had thus remained at this remote castle the past ten years. Tariv found that wasn't very logical, but his curiosity wasn't strong enough to press for answers.

    He headed across the court yard towards the living quarters---a stark graying behemoth that made him speculate that it had not been originally intended as living quarters. He approached the building with butterflies in his stomach and with his palms growing clammy. He stopped in front of the six guardsmen standing in front of the entrance. He put on a pleasant smile and looked at the two guards in the back holding awl pikes as tall as both of them combined...with one hand. He swallowed. He did like the dark purple uniforms they wore though.

    He hesitated before looking at the man with the salt and pepper hair and the weather beaten face of a seasoned veteran. He knew the man well. Captain Kurvin had helped in several of his studies. The captain wore the silver and purple coat of arms and rope with a charging war horse in two circles of an Officers of the Old Guard.

    "A good day to you, captain," Tariv said amiably. "Could you let me through? I have business to take care of." He shifted his feet restlessly when the captain gave him an expressionless once over. "It should have been done yesterday, but you know how that is." Tariv felt his smile droop a little. "The High Lord-Baron, I need to speak with him.'' He drew in a ragged breath when the captain finally signaled to two of the guards. Most of the time he was turned away when he approached this part of the castle these days. He watched as the two guards, both stocky and muscled, swung the doors open.

    "High Lord-Baron Larsiv, has sent out orders asking for you, lad," Captain Kurvin said gruffly. "What would he want with someone as scrawny as you?" He added the last with a smile.

    Tariv shook his head. "I'm as much in the dark as anyone, as usual. I didn't get the message." Some of the officers had a skewed sense of humor. "I'm not scrawny. I've been in training and I've gained a few pounds." The captain simply arched one eye brow and waved him through. Tariv scowled. It irked him that he had not been able to think of something clever to say to the man. He was a lord and it was expected that he would have some wits. How many more times was he going to be tripped up in front of the soldiers?

    Striding into the building he came into a vast room with red carpeting. On either side of the doors he could see half a dozen of the guard. He could also see servants going down the two halls leading out of the room. Most of the guards were lounging and relaxing. Tariv frowned slightly at that. Being a guard was a boring job, he understood, but they were certainly taking it a step further. Several of the guards were even playing that strange dice game that he had seen earlier. He shrugged off the urge to go over and watch them. He had more important business to take care of.

    He walked down the left hall, leaving the guards (none of whom bothered to acknowledge him) to their own devices. The hall led into a room that had tapestries covering every inch of its walls. He approached two servants, dusting off a tapestry of a pastoral setting, and inquired as to where the High Lord-Baron could be found. Receiving the answer he had to travel up and down several halls, rooms, and stairs. As he walked he rehearsed all the arguments and counter arguments that were possible.

    Finally he came down a short hall, well lit by three large bay windows, and into a room with ten heavily armed guards. One, a burly-armed, dark haired man with cold blue eyes, stared him down. Tariv took him for the lead officer of the group judging by the way the others deferred to him. The man said nothing, but he did swing the door inward. Tariv nodded his thanks and stepped into the room. He froze when the door closed behind him.

    He was unnerved to see seven pairs of eyes calculating and measuring his every move. He swallowed with uncertainty. He should have thought this over more, he thought with an inward side. Lord Larsiv never did anything without it leading to something bigger. He wondered if maybe he had done something wrong, because judging by the way they were looking at him, he seemed to be the rabbit while they were the wolves.

    ''Milord," Tariv began cautiously, ''you called?'' He bowed carefully and avoided looking at everyone to gather his wits.

    The High Lord-Baron Larsiv Omarin crossed his arms in his chair and gazed at Tariv with his enigmatic dark green eyes. "I sent for you a half hour ago, Tariv." His voice was as cool as a fall breeze. Lord Larsiv never lost his cool, but one learned to know when he was displeased.

    ''As usual you are late.'' Larsiv stroked his graying beard and looked Tariv over, as if he was making a decision. ''I hear that you are spending more of your time in the library than on the practice fields. I hear that you may even prefer it over your other...duties."

    Tariv flushed. He could see or hear the others cover smiles, muffle laughter, or shift noticeably in their chairs.

    "I want bother you with a lecture on the duties and responsibilities inherent in your rank," Lord Larsiv continued. "There may be a chance for you yet to find your niche in life and in the marshal arts."

    Tariv gawked in disbelief. It took him a moment to register what he was being offered. He wiped away an involuntary grin. He would be allowed to serve in some capacity. He would be allowed to go with them! He would have a chance to prove himself to everyone. Of course he hadn't doubted things would turn for his favor eventually. Bad luck could only last so long.

    He looked at the men seated in the room and paused. Half were near his age or close enough, but most where at the High-Lords age and...These were some of the most powerful men in the kingdom! That's what had been bugging the back of his mind. Now his curiosity was blazing in his mind. What had he been summoned too? He was conscious of the fact that he was coming from one the lower Houses, a House in disgrace, while the Houses these men came from could very well challenge for the throne.

    "Sit down," Larsiv ordered Tariv. He gestured towards the only empty seat in the room. "We are in the middle of interesting talks that will eventually concern you. I suggest you pay attention. This is House honor. What takes place in here stays in here. Do you understand?"

    Tariv nodded his head in understanding. Looking around he could see the tension and strain on the faces of everyone and it made his stomach twist. He took his seat and wondered what could make what was being said so secretive that House honor was invoked. He shot the High Lord a frowning wondering look and took some comfort in being far enough away from the man at the table that he was not completely under his stern stare.

    Tariv wondered if possibly they were discussing the invasion of Nycete. If so, he would be the envy of the lord's that had not been invited into the meeting room. Well, that is, if he hadn't been sworn to secrecy. He couldn't wait to see the treacherous and deceitful Nycetian's struck them by justice and true blue steel. Maybe he'd even be able to join in the fighting. He would show them how real men fought! What did it matter to him that the Nycetian Cavalry was amongst the best in the world? Colimar's cavalry wasn't shabby at all either.

    "Stop dreaming and pay attention boy," the man to Tariv's left said gruffly in an undertone.

    Tariv started and blinked his eyes rapidly. He realized that the man who had spoken to him was none other than Zacharin Mondol. The Zacharin Mondol! Lord Mondol was counted amongst the best generals there nation had produced. He was powerful, a decorated hero and a national standard that any man aspired to try to emulate. Mondol did not tolerate losing and was a tenacious leader.

    Tariv fumbled for words or thoughts as he looked upon one of the men he had grew up admiring from afar. He slipped his helmet off and tried to focus more on what was taking place. To think his luck would be this good! He tried to focus more, but his thoughts tended to drift away when people gave long winded speeches. People had a talent for quickly boring him, even when he was interested in what they had to say. The interest quickly waned if they said anything passed four sentences. He preferred a more hands on approach to things or for it to be written down. He could not explain why, it was just who he was. It was because of that exact problem that he had been sent off to this isolated place, or at least one of them. There had been a number of reasons that led up to his mother's immediate--and might he add considerably illogical-decision.

    "...when are the others arriving, Havel?" Chavel Darin asked.

    He was one of the Lord Generals that had arrived with the army. A tall powerful built man who had sharp eyes that seemed to miss nothing. Tariv could just look around in wonder that he had been invited. He looked at the very men that held the power in the nation and noted with some glee that he was the only one of the lesser nobles to be in the room. Oh, the jealousy they would have when it was found out!

    Havel Torcan blinked owlishly several times and rubbed his gray whiskered jaw. His wrinkled face stretched into a crafty smile. ''Oh," he said, and that was it.

    Tariv hastily fought down the urge to laugh out loud. Havel Torcan was easily the eldest man at the table and was well into his eighties if Tariv remembered correctly.

    "Oh, yes," Havel said again smacking his lips together after a prod from Zacharin. "They will be here well within the week." His eyes quickly took on a shrewd and cunning look. "I hear that our king is bringing his entire retinue. There are going to be some interesting..." His eyes moved over Tariv for a brief moment "...fire works in the days to come." He guffawed as if he had made a grand joke. No one else joined in.

    Tariv gave the man a perplexed questioning look. He couldn't imagine what Lord Havel could be going on about. Wait! The king was coming? How did he miss that? That would explain why the army had set up in such a remote location! He had never seen the king or the royal court and now to know that a significant number of the royal court would be arriving soon was a wonder to know. His mother had been too ashamed of his fathers drinking, gambling and other interests to present him at court. At least that was what she had let him think. Fireworks too as well. He had always enjoyed the festivals that had the fire works displays.

    "Cerdron, what say you to this," Zacharin said. He looked in the direction of a man built like a bull, muscles rippling under his costly silks.

    Cerdron Treman, First Lord of the Watch, rubbed his smooth chin thoughtfully. His well-cared for dark brown hair glistened in the light with whatever hair products he used. "The plan is sound." He chuckled softly, though the laughter failed to reach his eyes. He leaned over to Havel. "Just remember to uphold your end of the bargain, old man."

    Havel smirked. "Boy, I'm better at this ripe old age than you will ever hope to be." His eyes drifted to Tariv and he gave Tariv a significant look as if there was a hidden meaning behind it.

    Larsiv leaned back in his chair and looked each man over before leaning in and resting both hands upon the table. "So, our king is coming," he murmured. He glanced at Havel. "Your people tell you he is bring the majority of the court with him?" He barely waited for Havel's nod before speaking again. "Is he a fool? We will soon be at war, yet he would travel in such excess. Bring most of the court assures us that the royal family itself will be in tow as well."

    That set everyone but Tariv to talking loud and gesturing wildly. Tariv sat clueless as to what the significance of it all meant. It seemed to him to be a pretty exciting thing to have the royal court itself moving to take up residence at the castle. He opened his mouth to speak, but Larsive raised a hand to quiet everyone, so he wisely kept his mouth closed.

    "This only speeds our plans up," Larsiv said. "If anything this will make what happens more efficient and better for us to handle. Here away from the majority we can more affect change."

    "Ah...excuse me," Tariv said. He gave a start as he realized he had spoken into the silence and now had all eyes on him. He shifted uneasily in his seat and swallowed with difficulty. "I don't understand what is going on," he said hesitantly. "I don't even know why I am here. I'm grateful of course," he added hastily. "This has the feel of some kind of conspiracy or something. Not that it is one. I mean we are all loyal I know." He jumped at harsh laughter from Cerdron and Havel, while Zacharin settled for a sad amused and sympathetic look.

    "I warned you, Larsiv that the boy should be clued in on what his part was, less he think foolishly," Justas Fremun, Lord of the Coastal Watch said. "He has no idea what is being planned. Keeping him in ignorance when you brought him hear is one thing, but how long will we keep him in the dark? He is a wild card." He ran a hand over his bald head and adjusted the silver fasteners upon his military uniform.

    Havel sent Justas a glaring warning look that caused him to subside. Havel turned to Tariv and sized him up. "These are dangerous times lad. People are hesitant and fearful when they should not be and fearless with reckless abandon when they should be cautious. You would do best for the time being to just sit back and pay close attention. With your being here you are with us whether willingly or reluctantly. Make peace with that."

    "You have seen the weather," Zacharin said to Tariv. "It foretells the spilling of much blood to come. These violent times are about to get more violent. It is far better to attack the wildcat than to wait to be mauled." Havel snorted, but Zacharin ignored it.

    Larsiv contemplated and his eyes drifted over to Tariv. He seemed to take the measure of Tariv and nodded his head as if coming to some conclusion. "Take your leave, Tariv," Larsiv said mildly giving Tariv a significant look.

    Tariv opened his mouth to protest, but saw the stony expression on Larsiv's face and thought better of it. He made it to his feet awkwardly and gave a short shaky bow. Feeling his face reddening at the abrupt dismissal and the silent stares of the lord's in the room, he left the room. Before the door closed completely he could hear the talking and arguing beginning again. To be dismissed so abruptly and without even an explanation...it was humiliating to him. It was his right to ask questions. It was unfair that he had been treated as a child.

    All of those thoughts passed through his mind as he stalked past the guards. He stomped through the halls trying to ease his anger and figure out what exactly had taken place. His wanderings led him to the hall that led to his room and he turned down it. He came out into a wide gallery with a glass ceiling. The gallery was lined with flowers of every variety. He paused, taking the time to look over several of the flowers, his eye focused on the designs upon them. He left the gallery and nodded at the two guards placed at the entrance.

    He glanced at two servants polishing one of the bronze horse statues that Lord Larsiv seemed to be so fond of. It didn't take him long to make it to the main hall. It had always fascinated him that the castle required so many guards and servants to populate it. He padded up stairs wide enough to have ten people walk up them at the same time, and brushed by several lords and ladies coming down them without acknowledging them. A minor breach of protocol he took some delight in doing.

    By the time he had made it to the top of the stairs his anger had more or less left him. Contemplating his options he decided that despite being sent away he had come out on top. Hadn't his plan been to get accepted into the army? And hadn't he managed to get what he wanted? Yes he had. He grinned. It wasn't all bad. Perhaps he would go to the Master Library and let Ziferon know about the good news. The old librarian would be in for a shock. While he was there he could look up some of the old military strategy books.

    Turning around he caught two serving girls looking at him openly. He smiled shyly and they both blushed before going back to their dusting. He went down the hall and moved out of the way of three servants going the opposite way with trays weighted with a variety of foods. He dismissed the curious thoughts of that and turned his thoughts back to the library. The library was one of the few places that he was comfortable in.

    He turned down a side hall and walked past walls covered with a variety of mirrors top to bottom, tapestries and paintings as well. He stopped to look at several of the tapestries and reflect on the eclectic forefathers of Lord Larsiv. He walked on half day dreaming of which books he would look over and did not pay attention to what he was doing. He walked right into a serving girl carrying a good sized box filled with paper of varying colors. She fell backwards on her backside with a surprised cry. Tariv tripped over his own feet trying to catch himself and fell over on top of the girl. He felt a rush of heat to his face and scrambled off of the girl. He helped her up and avoided her eyes with adjusting his clothes.

    The girl began to calmly pick up the papers and froze. She gave Tariv a piercing stare. Tariv looked at the girl and started to apologize, but his words caught in his throat. He did manage to force himself to breath. This was not the first time that he had ever seen a pretty girl, his brain reminded him. She was younger than him, but he didn't think it was but by a year or two. Her long blond hair and misty blue eyes made her very alluring. O god, I'm waxing poetic at the wrong time, he thought wildly. Please don't drool or do anything else stupid, he told himself. He had never seen the girl before so she must have been a recently hired on girl.

    "You clumsy fool!" The girl said that with flashing eyes that chased away his fantasies. "Those papers are intended for the High Lord-Baron's lady wife and daughter. I ought to have you punished as of this moment. Tell me boy, are you blind or just stupid?" She came up to Tariv and poked him in the chest with one finger and backed him against the wall. Seeing that he was staring into her eyes she slapped him in the face.

    "How dare you look at me with such insolence," the girl said in frosty tones. "I am the Lady---"

    Before he could catch himself, Tariv slapped the girl back. He didn't know which of them was more shocked. He felt a momentary bout of shame for what he had done, but a part of him observed that it had at least shut her up. He was no commoner and would not tolerate being yelled at by one. Especially by a lowly serving girl. He had to be a few years older than her and by the Eight Stones he was a lord. He deserved--no commanded-respect. No servant had ever talked to him in such an insulting way.

    "Listen, little girl, I'm more than a..." He trailed off at the wide-eyed look upon her face. Maybe he had knocked some sense into her, he thought with some satisfaction. Looking down at her finger he knitted his brow in annoyance. He pushed it away and glared at the girl.

    The girls face reddened with anger. "I don't care who you are boy," she snapped. "You made the biggest mistake of your life by touching me."

    He hadn't thought it possible, but as she spoke her voice became colder and colder. "Now wait just a minute," Tariv said, when she looked like she wanted to continue. How things had gotten to this point was beyond him. He fixed the girl with his best stern look.

    The girl was wearing a dress of purple and white with the double gold crowns of a personal servant to House Omarin. Tariv crossed his arms and frowned. There wasn't much he could do at the moment. Berating the girl would just be a waste of his time, though she needed one. She was surely poor of manner and he was amazed that she was attached to House Omarin. She must be a new hire, he thought. Maybe he would report her for her incivility. A thought came to him and he grinned. He had his signet ring. It had the emblem of his family House on it: a twisted sword with two silver rings looped around it. With that he could make this foolish girl fall on her face trying to ask for his forgiveness.

    "You just wait!" The girl said glaring at Tariv. She took a deep breath as if to calm her self. "This time I will allow you to beg forgiveness on your knees, boy. I am not without kindness." She tapped one foot impatiently, and Tariv realized that she was serious. "Hurry up, boy. You need time to gather up all of these papers." She peered up at him with a look as if she had come to the conclusion that he was on the slow side. She stepped away from him and straightened her dress, all the while staring at him and muttering under her breath.

    Trying to keep in the snarl that wanted to come out so badly, Tariv reached into his pocket and put on the signet ring and held his hand up. He wanted to shake this girl until sense came to her. The girls eyes widened with shock and he had the satisfaction of seeing her face redden with embarrassment. The look on her face brought a triumphant smile to his face. It did puzzle him slightly that she did not looking overly worried. Just embarrassed. If he was in her place he would have been on the floor groveling for forgiveness.

    Slowly the girl seemed to gather herself. She shot him a tight smile and even had the audacity to laugh. "That's a good one, boy. I hope you know that I have seen fakes before. The lash might be too good for you."

    Tariv choked and spluttered in disbelief. Fake? Was she daft? Why didn't she just admit that she was in the wrong? Women could be damned hardheaded. It made no sense.

    "What's your name?" He finally managed to get out. He made a mocking bow at the absurdity of the moment after the major events that had happened previously. The girl seemed to be insane and thought she was a lady by the imperious way she acted. ''I am Tariv. Lord Tariv. Lord Tariv Surn'Varn, to be exact.''

    The girls hands flew to her mouth and she blinked her eyes rapidly several times. She dropped a low curtsy. "You are the young...? Forgive me, good sir."

    Tariv nodded his head in satisfaction. Now things were going as they should be.

    "I'm..." The girl took a breath. "I am Avaril, milord.'' Avaril removed a ring for a side pocket on the dress and held up a signet ring. She held the ring up for him to see and seemed to give him a defiant look. "Lady Avaril Danone, milord."

    Tariv laughed. He would have kept on laughing, but stopped when he saw the dangerous glint in the girl's eyes. This girl was a lady? Surely this was too much. If she was a lady then pigs could fly. "If you are who you claim to be then why are you wearing---?"

    "You want to know why I am in this ridiculous uniform?" Avaril's mouth quirked with a half smile. ''That's none of your business,"she said with a dismissive wave. "Would you like to see the ring closer and talk to Kat about it?''

    Tariv flushed and shook his head. ''No. No thank you. I'll take your word for it.'' No one in their right mind would try to fake being of the nobility, especially in a place full of nobles. "Well," he said awkwardly after a moment of silence eying each other, "now that we know one another let me help you with these papers. I'd also like to apologize for behaving so rudely." He gave Avaril a sidelong glance when she patted his arm and beamed at him. There should definitely be a law against women smiling the way she was smiling, he thought. She was really rather pretty now that he thought about it.

    He was well on his way to picking up all of the papers when a thought came to him. She had not apologized for her behavior. Women! He was sure that she had somehow managed to trick him into doing the apologizing.

    Avaril went to the floor gracefully beside Tariv and helped to gather up the papers. She brushed a few stray wisps of hair out of her face. "Thank you," she said. "It is not often a find a gentleman willing to help just for the sake of helping."

    "Nothing much to it," Tariv managed to get out with what he hoped wasn't a squeak as she batted her eyes at him. Was she implying something? Why was he feeling pleased that she had acknowledged his help? "Where are you from?" He almost clapped a hand over his mouth at the rudeness of the question. "Umm...I mean you aren't from around here, " he added hastily. "Not that you have to answer."

    Avaril laced her fingers and assumed a judicial expression. She looked down at a paper in her hands. It held the heavy seal of the High-Lord Baron upon it. She tilted her head one way and graced Tariv with a dazzling smile.

    "You look uncomfortable, milord," she said teasingly. With a slender hand she tossled his hair.

    Tariv flushed and moved his hand up to remove hers, but he paused uncertainly.

    "Are they really right," she went on, more to herself than him. "Are you really like they say you are? It is not often that one---"

    "What are you talking about?" Tariv demanded rising to his feet.

    Avaril gathered the last of the papers and made it to her feet. "Never mind," she said with a dismissive gesture. A second later her eyes blinked rapidly and she giggled. "I didn't know you had a sense of humor," she said, her eyes twinkling. "I'm from Rosan."

    "Well now you know," Tariv said, though he had no idea what was so humorous. He helped put the papers in the box and picked it up to hand to Avaril. Their hands brushed briefly and he jerked his back as if burned. He forced a smile onto his face and hoped she wasn't a mind reader.

    Avaril looked at him with that knowing smile that all women had perfected against him. He watched her leave with a simple nod of her head and wondered if he should have offered to carry the box for her. He didn't think so judging by the secretive way she had not told him why she was dressed in a servants outfit. It was not very heavy, he told himself. He headed towards the library trying to figure out if there were loop holes in his oath.

Author's Note

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