Cyriac stood on the stony path, watching the large castle from a distance. His steel-grey eyes were fixed on the golden banners, the white towers and the brown bridge. Grabbing his pack with one tanned hand, he moved on. The wind softly blew through his dirty-blond hair; his clumsy legs stumbled over the wobbly stones. As Cyriac managed to get inside without falling, his eyes widened in awe. The crowd-filled courtyard smelled of food and horses. The crowd was staring at a young man on the stakes and Cyriac wondered what he had done wrong.
He turned his head to see if his mother was still there, but the crowd blocked his view. He turned back to the castle. It was up to him now. Looking down at the small slip of paper in his hand, he began once again to walk.
The crowd around him paid him no attention; they just went about their business. Cyriac supposed there were so many faces; they wouldn’t realize when a new one popped up every now and again. Again he looked up at the battlements and wondered what kind of welcome he would receive here.
He moved to walk again, but not paying attention to where he was going, crashed in to a girl about his age.
“Oh, sorry,” he said helping her to become steady on her feet.
She was dressed poorly, and also seemed to be heading in the direction of the castle. She kept her head bent, mumbled something, and hurried away. Cyriac shrugged and moved forward again. He could see small stand with fruit lining the street. He longed to stop and try some, but now he had a different goal. He rubbed the small paper with his finger tips and kept walking.
Finally reaching the castle gates, he was stopped by two guards. They were dressed in their chain link armor, each holding a long spear in their outer hands. The emblem on their chests looked like a spear breaking a magic wand, but Cyriac wasn’t sure.
“What business do you have here, boy?” one said gruffly.
Cyriac read off the small paper.
“I’m here to see King Magus. I’m a new servant for his son.”
“Go on then, get in. I’ll take you to him,” said the one on the right as the other opened the gates.
Cyriac tried to get a better look at their chests but before he could he was being marched away, and the soldier was behind him.
The dirt path continued behind the gates, until they reached two wooden doors. Through these they entered a long hall. It was gray and cold, made of stone, and furnished with a long red rug down the center, and three thrones at the end. The throne in the middle was a bit grander, and more in front of the other two.
It was then that Cyriac noticed the woman gazing out the window. The woman’s mossy eyes looked out of the window; her soft and pale hands were stretched over the balcony. Her long auburn hair curled up to her mid-back and the red lips were drawn into a sweet smile. She seemed like a friendly, gentle woman.
“My lady Malina,” the soldier bowed, and Cyriac was quick to do the same.
“This young boy says he is here to be a servant for Quenten.”
“Very well. I will fetch the king.”
The lady turned gracefully and exited the chamber.
~
Magnus watched through the window of his chambers, high above all the activity down below. He watched his son dart throughout the stands and people, trying to tempt a possible knight into following him. Foolish boy. That smile on his face suggested he thought everything could be gone about in a game-like manner. Magnus had his hands full showing him how to run a kingdom. Even more so trying to convince him that magic was real and sorcerers were dangerous. He heard a knock.
"Come in," he said in a deep voice.
His ward and daughter, Malina was at the door. She had auburn hair, a shade lighter than his own.
"My lord, a young boy has come to see you. He says he is to be Quenten’s new servant." she said.
Her eyes were a blaze, but Magnus did not notice.
"Very well."
Adjusting his crown, Magnus turned away from the window to accompany her downstairs.
~
Cyriac’s head snapped up as the lady, Malina, reentered the room with a man in front of her. She stopped at the doorway and bowed out. The man, however, kept marching right up to them. Again, Cyriac and the soldier bowed.
“What is your name, boy?”
“Cyriac,” he replied, standing.
The king nodded. “Yes. I received a letter from your mother. You wish to serve my son?”
Cyriac remembered the paper in his hand. He was supposed to say yes to this question. That, however, was not the real reason he was here. He nodded.
“Yes, my lord.”
“You will be loyal, and obedient?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“You will protect this kingdom’s secrets knowing that treason is punishable by death?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Magus gave a quick nod.
“Morio, take him to Quenten. He is fooling around in the market place. Again.”
Obviously the king did not approve of his son’s actions. The soldier nodded, bowed again, and dragged the boy out.
He dragged him all the way to the courtyard, back among the crowds and the stands. Then he pointed to a tall boy dressed in the colors of the banners.
“That’s the prince,” the guard muttered, and went back to his position by the gate.
“So you’re my new servant?” the prince said once Cyriac had introduced himself.
Cyriac nodded. “Yes, my lord.”
“Drop the ‘my lords’ around me. That won’t get you anywhere.”
Quenten flipped his mop of brown hair out of his face. His green eyes had a 'come and get me' glint about them as his arrogant smile showed off all his white teeth. He had a strange way of showing that he cared about people- he tested them, and their defenses, always pushing them. It was his way of making them stronger. It all started when his mom died, and his father, the king, had put him in charge of training the young knights, as he now had extra things to worry about. He was young, yet already acted as if he knew the ways of the world, and nothing could scare or surprise him anymore. And now he began to chase Cyriac.
Adelaide folded the Lady Malina's garments carefully once she was finished with the prince's. Her long dresses were much more extravagant than the simple dress hanging on Adelaide now. She glanced toward the window, but it was so grimy she could see none of the outside world, only her sad turquoise eyes and pitiful expression. If only her father and Magnus had not been enemies. Then she could have lived like royalty, even in her father's death, not as a maid. (Wizard's name) stumbled in, breathing heavy, and she blushed, turning away from her reflection to bend over and hide her face.
"Hello again," he said. She was the girl he had bumped into in the courtyard. "Need some help with that?"
She turned towards him. "I'm almost finished, thank you." She said. Her father would hate to see her in love with another servant, but that was who she was now. Gathering all the laundry, she hurried out.
Cyriac just shrugged again. That always seemed to be how she left him. He shook his sweaty, dirty blonde hair out of his face and grinned. This was going to be fun.
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