Broken Crowns: The Year of Veras Book 4

By J. Mark McDonald

Who will fall next?

Jon Crawford, Darcy Fletcher, and their friends see a prophecy unfolding before their eyes. International plots and conspiracies evolve and entangle them, raising the stakes for powerful enemies from two worlds that seek their deaths and the destruction of the relics they carry.

An abomination is created to overcome the band’s defenses. Specifically designed with elements from the ethereal, the rampaging creature stalks the party under the guise of champion for the gods.

A forgotten race is challenged by guidance, suggesting a dramatic shift to policies of isolation that have lasted two millennia. Echoes of war still effect the lives of people across the continent. The norms that govern both worlds deteriorate into chaos, as if driven by an unseen hand.

Broken Crowns

Book 4 in the Year of Veras Series

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 10, 2024
• ISBN: 9798889437734

Book preview

cover.jpg

Broken Crowns

The Year of Veras Book 4

J. Mark McDonald

ISBN 979-8-88943-772-7 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88943-804-5 (hardcover)

ISBN 979-8-88943-773-4 (digital)

Copyright © 2024 by J. Mark McDonald

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

The Year of Veras Series

Chosen

Hidden Paths

Momentary Peace

Broken Crowns

Allies in Arms

Hand of the Divine

Released

184

185

185

186

186

186

187

188

189

189

190

191

192

193

194

195

196

197

198

199

200

201

202

204

205

207

208

209

209

210

212

213

213

214

215

217

218

219

220

221

222

223

224

226

226

226

227

227

228

About the Author

The Year of Veras Series

Chosen

Hidden Paths

Momentary Peace

Broken Crowns

Allies in Arms

Hand of the Divine

Released

Characters

184

Elder Apelles

Kypris

Closing the book carefully, Apelles leaned back. His elbows rested on the arms of the chair, fingers interwoven beneath his chin as he considered the text. There wasn't a specific line or passage that prompted his discomfort. He wasn't even sure discomfort was the right word to use. But something was certainly gnawing at him and had been for weeks, especially when reading the Collection. Such feelings were never to be dismissed, unless, of course, he was just getting old and losing his faculties. But if that were the case, the persistent feeling probably would have dissipated by now, which left him only one choice. Should he share his suspicions with the Council?

Apelles stood up and removed his reading glasses to peer down at the granite desk and the leather-bound book. It seemed harmless enough, but he knew better. The tome had power; power to shape nations, sway minds, even start wars. He had to be careful. To misunderstand or misrepresent could bring disaster. To ignore was pure folly. Perhaps confiding in just one of the other Council members made the most sense. Waving his hand as if to brush aside his quandary, Apelles groaned. Enough. Time to go.

He grabbed the walking stick and turned about, scanning the room, afraid of leaving something important behind. The chair needed a new cover, the wool worn through in a few places where his particular lumps rubbed against those of the bound roots. The portrait he'd been painting stared back at him, the eyes complaining about how long the part-time artist was taking to finish. The mobile he started constructing for his granddaughter was in no better shape. Three other ventures sat in piles on the floor. He really had to finish a couple of projects, if only to make space. The sculpture was closest to completion so that should be first on his list. Everything appeared as expected, nothing left behind. He turned down the wick on the oil lamp, and the light faded to a soft glow, the tiny crystal facets in the walls, floor, and desk reflecting less and less with each turn.

Reaching for the latch, Apelles pulled the door, the heavy slate swinging effortlessly on a single hinge. Outside his home, Kypris was bustling with midday traffic. The walking stick clicked on the stone street with every second step as he strolled through two side streets to reach the main thoroughfare leading to the Council chambers. It was a day like any other. Sheep bleated in the distance, their complaints echoing off both fabricated and natural walls. Waterwheels creaked along the river's edge. Music from a half dozen different ensembles intermingled, making any individual melody impossible to decipher. Below, the mines hummed with countless hammers and chisels. Once again, the distant clamor triggered both gratitude and relief. The toil was necessary. Someone had to perform the work. Like the rest of the older Selvyns, he was glad the days of taking shifts in the mines were in his past.

Elder Apelles! cried a small voice. Turning, he saw a young girl running toward him, her mother waiting patiently in the background. Do you want to see my latest piece?

Of course, Crisa, he replied, kneeling to come eye to eye. What do you have here?

Crisa held out a frame with both hands, her ears flicking with joy. It's a picture of the falls. I used gems instead of paint.

I see that. It's a very good likeness. I'm impressed.

It doesn't have the same depth as oils, and you can't play with the light source using this medium. The image won't be as clear, but I like the sparkles.

I think it's fantastic. Well done. Rising, he added, Tell your father I said hello.

I will. Bye!

Continuing down the thoroughfare, Apelles nodded greetings as he passed pedestrians and shopkeepers. A string quartet stood on one corner, improvising a new melody. Third-year students huddled around a potter's workshop to study ceramics. A woman bartered with a glassblower over a blue vase. Sharing her latest creation, a seamstress displayed a vest threaded with silver to a man offering gold in return. A pair of hunters in subtle greens and browns talked with three shepherds about their latest trip topside. All five had protective goggles strung about their necks.

Paralleling the street, steel carts filled with various ores from the mines were drawn by a linked chain coursing through a trench perfectly cut in the stone. A great waterwheel turned beneath the falls, pulling the chain through the closed-loop system. Platinum, iron, gold, copper, and coal all passed in a slow, endless procession, the furnaces and processing vats waiting at the end of the line.

Apelles turned left off the thoroughfare and began climbing the stairs to the Council chambers. Young pages ran by, some holding letters, others delivered books, and still others carried messages in their heads. Telamon was at the top of the stairs, a folder filled with parchments in his hands, heading for the Council meeting as well. The elder would be a good sounding board for his concern. Level-headed and wise, pragmatic and honest, Telamon would offer reasonable advice. Apelles decided to seek him out before the meeting commenced.

Finally cresting the stairs, he paused to admire the view. Council Square was one of his favorite places in all of Kypris. It didn't have the constant traffic of the thoroughfare, but the art was magnificent. In the center of the square, atop a pedestal of granite, stood the image of Solaris, as lifelike as any statue made from pure gold could be. A mosaic fashioned from colorful gems encircled the figure, each tiny facet casting reflections from the streetlamps above. Eyes on the horizon, the statue was pointing. Legend suggested the pose actually occurred in 1397, almost 2,600 years ago, when Solaris directed the great exodus south, leaving Tanivar and its capital, L'ordues, behind. What would he have thought of Kypris now? What would Selvynus, the First of His Kind, Solaris's great-great-grandfather, have thought? Would they be satisfied or call their ancestors cowards for remaining separate for so long?

Apelles shook his head, chastising himself. He stopped admiring and started walking. If he weren't careful, he'd be late again.

The elder stepped through the doors into the empty hallway. In a heartbeat, he realized he was already too late; he'd have to speak with Telamon after the session. He quickened his pace through the main hall, opening the doors to find the rest of the Council members seated around the circular table, their books, parchments, and scrolls littering the marble surface. Telamon was just taking his seat. At least he wasn't as late as he was last time. Moving from member to member, a page offered to fill glass goblets with spring water.

The current leader of the Council, Maera, called the session to order. Ladies and gentlemen, shall we begin? The subcommittee focusing on modifications to the Structure will be ready to present in a few moments. When they do, please allow them to present their proposal for each Rule before expressing your concerns. They have worked hard collecting comments from around Kypris, and we need to listen before passing judgment. Glancing around the room, Maera made sure the elders understood her point. Afraid he might signal boredom even before the first presentation, Apelles straightened his ears. Maera continued, As customary, our first order of business is a review of topside operations. Pratimos will present the current standing of herds and crops. Pratimos, go ahead.

Every month, he rattled off an accounting, but somehow, Pratimos managed to make the report even less interesting than the last one. Instead of wasting time on such mundane matters, the Council should've been discussing the prophecies and whether anyone else was feeling the same compulsion. If Apelles was right, they had to do something. But what? Reach out and actually engage? That idea would certainly not find favor. Glancing around the room at each of the eleven other Council members, he knew only Telamon would listen intently; the others would dismiss his real proposal almost immediately. Still, he had to try. If he was receiving guidance, he had to share it, even if he was the only one listening. Perhaps if he used a two-pronged approach, then—

Apelles?

Yes? It was Maera. He must have missed something.

Your vote?

I apologize, Maera. I was thinking about something else. What was the proposal?

The Council leader placed her hands flat on the table in a clear sign of disapproval. Her pale round eyes appeared sharp enough to cut diamonds. For good measure, she flicked both ears forward, making her displeasure known to the whole room. We are voting on whether to maintain current stock levels or increase by 3 percent.

Part of Apelles was still glad he missed the report despite the rebuke. I cast my vote with the majority.

Telamon grinned. Perhaps we should hear what consumes Apelles's attention.

Was he trying to help or throw oil on the fire?

Grinning slightly, apparently finding joy in the embarrassing situation, Maera nodded. Go ahead, Apelles. Enlighten us.

Trapped. Should I just beg forgiveness and say it was nothing or tell them the truth? Truth is always better, but then, it's rarely less painful. So be it.

Sitting up, squaring his shoulders, Apelles took a breath. He placed hands and ears in neutral positions. I've had strange feelings of late, especially when I'm reading the Collection or meditating. I believe something is going on in the outside world, in the eastern kingdoms.

Have you received specific guidance? asked Telamon.

No, just a general feeling. A feeling that has led me to believe his hand is moving.

A few of the elders placed their hands on the table, slowly weaving their fingers together in front of their chests.

Maera challenged, In the eastern kingdoms? The captives have forgotten him. Why would he reach out to those barbarians after more than a thousand years of rebellion?

I don't know. Apelles shrugged. Perhaps it's time they remember.

You're not suggesting the prophecy is being fulfilled there, are you? Maera probed incredulously.

I'm not suggesting anything at this time.

Looking across the table, Telamon drew his left ear back before asking, Are you offering a proposal? He was trying to help, after all.

Yes, I am. Considering his words carefully, Apelles stated, I propose we collectively seek specific guidance to discover if he is moving in the eastern kingdoms.

Anyone opposed? Maera formally asked.

No dissenters. Even the body language remained relatively neutral. Of course, seeking guidance without required action was a minor request. Few would ever challenge such a simple proposal.

Maera continued, Proposal agreed. Complete the task before our next session.

Now, time to take the plunge. He knew the next proposal would be far more contentious; it could lead to decisions that would change how their race had lived for over two thousand years. Preparing himself for a confrontation, Apelles added, I further propose that if he is moving in the eastern kingdoms, we collectively seek guidance for how he wants us to join him.

185

Baron Tennath Canol

Whitehaven Castle, Bronland

Any ideas on how we can speed the recovery? Baron Hendricks asked. I would like to get the veterans back into normal life as soon as possible.

Tennath agreed but didn't comment.

I am sure people will be unsettled about the kidnapping for some time. Many will be concerned about a new war starting over the event. My staff tells me there are countless Enders within the barony that see the peace treaty as fantastic news, but those same people saw the prince's abduction as equally bad news. ‘Crowns breaking' and all that. The sooner we can bring stability back, the better.

I care little for the philosophy of Enders, though I have been considering the stability issue, Tennath replied. There does not appear to be a simple solution.

Regarding the war with Tomania, I would like to honor the fallen in some way that brings people together but then helps them move on, put the whole experience into the past.

Tennath nodded appreciatively. Perhaps combining that with a festival to recognize those returning. One part solemn, one part joyful.

Should we make it national or local? Grinning coyly, he added, Honestly, I would prefer local, if only to avoid negotiating details with Baron Stratton.

For a young man in his early thirties, Padraig carried himself well. His hazel eyes were sharp, focused, and unlike Baron Graydon, he was always attentive. Short hair was peppered with gray, an unusual trait given his youth. His handsome, clean-shaven face portrayed confidence, but Tennath didn't sense arrogance. He and Selora had been friends since she turned twelve. Where Baron Stratton was an old, irritable complainer, Padraig was polite, optimistic. Considering his counterparts, Tennath almost chuckled aloud. All four barons were very different people.

Of course, the other three didn't have to worry about carefully hidden issues with legitimacy. They didn't have to deal with the daily fear of being discovered. Did the secret die with his mother, or was someone waiting for just the right moment to break eighty years of silence?

Tennath cast aside the apprehension and offered, For onetime events, local is always better.

I have also wondered if there is a way to involve the Theocon. I am sure they would appreciate the gesture, but I confess, I am not satisfied with any of my ideas. We cannot publicly thank Kurg, as he would want the war to continue. Flanora? She is the goddess of love, so I assume that is close enough.

Given discussions in Tomania about spirits wanting to kill Jon Crawford and how sorcery played a significant role in Pastran's abduction, Tennath didn't really care what the Theocon appreciated. Lately, spirits had been far less helpful than they were in the past. None of the summoners had yet offered a plausible explanation as to why spirits had been unable to locate the prince for an entire month or discover the traitors involved in the kidnapping. Tennath didn't see the Theocon actively trying to resolve any issues either. He needed to find some time with Celio to further investigate the Tomanians' latest claims. It was clear the arcanist was struggling with recent experiences and how they seemed to contradict centuries of doctrine. Perhaps he could develop some new theories that could explain the strange occurrences. Given his own confusion, any rational idea would be much appreciated.

Based on Tennath's lack of response, Baron Hendricks changed the subject. By the way, you really surprised General Armbruster and Baron Stratton with yesterday's knighting. I heard them discussing the event in quite colorful terms. Armbruster seems to have a particular dislike of the boy.

Yes, I am aware. Tennath glanced over his shoulder. The general was having a quiet conversation with Baron Graydon. Most likely, he was making the rounds, trying to gather support for a campaign that could easily entail discrediting Crawford or even himself. Someday, he would have to settle differences with Hannibal Armbruster.

I think my father, peace in Ulfara, was the last to knight a commoner. I barely remember the occasion. I was just seven or eight years old.

Trying to forget Armbruster, Tennath nodded. He remembered the event. A guardsman singlehandedly saved Padraig's father from bandits who waylaid a small hunt. Although not done in front of Tennath's brother, King Warrick, that particular knighting caused a commotion among the nobles. Some even called for rescinding the knighting and condemned Baron Hendricks for acting spontaneously. They didn't believe he considered the ramifications of knighting a commoner.

How many nobles around the country will side with Armbruster? Will they disregard the fact that every member of the royal family supported the boy's knighting? Tennath's eyes narrowed. He looked forward to defending the decision against any dissenters.

The queen stepped into the parlor, the dark circles under her eyes all but gone. She seemed focused. Was there a spark of anger in her blue eyes? Perhaps it was determination that narrowed her gaze. Following close behind was Felton Walsh with a parchment in one hand and Lars Thompson in his traditional plate armor. Tennath's niece, Listra, was the last to enter. Other than Listra's more modest attire, lack of jewelry, and fading sunburn, mother and daughter were almost mirror images.

Moving toward her favorite chair just off the hearth, the queen offered, Gentlemen, please, have a seat. The four barons selected positions while Felton and Lars stood on each side of the queen. Listra sat beside Tennath on the divan. I have asked Listra to join us this afternoon given our primary discussion topic. I want to hear your thoughts on how we should respond to Kendorus.

Listra's eyes were downcast, hands folded on her lap. She appeared embarrassed. Tennath knew she felt foolish for not recognizing Ventry's clandestine activities. Duke Kendorus was one of the most calculating, articulate men Tennath had ever met, and Listra was honest, straightforward, and unfortunately, trusting. In hindsight, the deception was not surprising.

We must demand reparations of some kind, Stratton grumbled. We cannot let that scoundrel go unpunished.

General Armbruster stated calmly, At any other time in our history, a declaration of war would be a reasonable option. Unfortunately, given the potential for populist revolt and the state of the treasury, waging another war on foreign soil would be a high-risk endeavor, one that I advise against.

Eyes narrowing, Tennath studied Armbruster. That was a highly rational argument against going to war and, therefore, completely out of character. Why would he suggest recalling the army to attack Tomania but not Kendorus? What was he plotting?

Are we sure Duke Kendorus was personally involved? asked Baron Graydon. Whatever we do, we will need the other monarchs on our side. Proof is required.

Clearing her throat subtly, Listra offered, This morning I received a note from Duke Kendorus. It was sent through a link from summoner to summoner. He is disavowing any knowledge of the abduction and subsequent imprisonment. He has executed Captain Baker and Lieutenant Warren, claiming they were conspirators. He pledged to continue the investigation until all parties involved have been brought to justice. Listra's hands were trembling despite a gallant attempt to maintain a calm front. He asked me to come back to Algoma, offering to personally escort me. Once I have your agreement, I will formally refuse and pursue annulment.

Baron Hendricks asked, Based on your planned response, is it safe to assume you do not believe him? Are you convinced he was involved?

Captain Baker was completely loyal to Ventry—to Duke Kendorus. Tennath assumed Listra was trying to distance herself from her husband, using a more formal title being the first step. He would never be involved with something of this magnitude without the duke's explicit permission. Also, the group that attacked us just before we reached the border came from Chember. The duke was in Chember when we found Pastran.

Hendricks continued, Well, I want to commend you for your bravery and fortitude. You have been through a terrible ordeal that the rest of us can only imagine.

Agreed, offered Graydon.

The queen's voice was stern, ensuring there would not be a debate over her declaration. You have approval to pursue annulment. Now, I have yet to hear a recommended plan of action. After waiting for a response, she continued, her voice rising, We have to do something. I cannot allow an attack on the crown to go unpunished!

Stratton blurted, We could send a team of investigators to Algoma. If Kendorus wants to prove his innocence, he will give them complete access to everyone in the castle. Scratching his chin through the thick gray beard, he thought aloud, We might be able to catch people telling different stories. It is unlikely to lead to evidence capable of condemning the duke, but it may be worth the effort if for no other reason than protecting our international reputation.

I agree with Baron Graydon's earlier comment, Hendricks stated. We need the other monarchs on our side, especially if we are unwilling to assemble the army and independently march on Kendorus. Therefore, the first order of business should be to launch a formal investigation that will stand up in the international court of opinion. We must prove the duke was personally involved.

Tennath? Your thoughts? the queen asked.

Tennath took a moment before replying. Your Majesty, I believe Listra. I believe the duke was personally involved. Nothing would give me more pleasure than to see him in chains. However, I do not see many options. General Armbruster's assessment of our ability to wage war is correct. That is currently not a viable option. Baron Hendricks's proposal is sound and our best option at this time.

Glancing around the room, Xara found heads nodding. Very well. I am not exactly in favor of the proposal, but neither do I have a better alternative. Lars?

Yes, Your Majesty?

Provide me with a list of four people that we could send to Kendorus. Make sure at least one is a summoner. They must be fearless, politically astute, and capable of finding the truth.

As you wish, Your Majesty.

Glancing at Listra, Tennath noted her hands stopped shaking; instead, they were clenched tightly. Like her mother, she was angry, but at the same time, resigned.

The queen took a breath and moved on. You have all heard Pastran's description of his abduction. The sorcery used is beyond my understanding. How can we defend against such powerful magic, and how do we prevent the next attempt? Any one of you or your children could be targets. How do we protect ourselves?

Tennath offered, One of the men we honored yesterday, Celio Berganza, is a competent arcanist. After a couple of conversations with the prince, his view is that the spells could not have been accomplished by a summoner and, perhaps, not even by a single sorcerer. Multiple simultaneous spells were required to control the prince and perpetrate the abduction. He also concluded that the process would require intimate knowledge of that part of Whitehaven. Therefore, his conclusion was that a group of sorcerers worked with an insider over a period long enough to plan the abduction.

A group of sorcerers collaborating on a single spell! exclaimed Stratton. Is that even possible?

I have never heard of such a feat, and neither has Celio, but he believes it is possible. Tennath turned back to the queen. Your Majesty, I asked Celio to develop a strategy to defend against similar magical attacks. His first thought was to consult with Darcy Fletcher.

The girl from the ceremony? What does she know about magic? challenged Armbruster.

More than anyone in this room, Listra stated flatly, looking directly into the general's eyes. As mother mentioned yesterday, she seems to have a unique ability. By unique, I mean unlike any other person in Androvia. Glancing around the room, Tennath expected the looks of disbelief that were now evident. Armbruster and Stratton appeared as if they'd already dismissed whatever Listra was about to say. She continued, Darcy has no formal training. She can cast multiple spells at multiple targets with the speed of a sorcerer. I have seen her in action. It was most impressive. Eyes staring at nothing, Listra seemed to debate her next comment before deciding to hold her thought. Tennath wondered how much she knew about spirits talking to her rescuers or their claims about a dead Tomanian. Did they tell her about the enchanted items?

Baron Hendricks appeared both interested and incredulous. If she has not received training, how does she accomplish such feats? Multiple spells at the speed of a sorcerer? Impressive might be an understatement.

Padraig was right, Tennath thought. Darcy Fletcher should not be able to summon at all, yet she reportedly performed at a level Artor Miller could not match. In fact, Tennath didn't know anyone in Bronland who could match her reported skill level, except, perhaps, the Archbishop of Brusdor. She certainly didn't appear to have the typical attributes of a summoner, like superior intellect or ability to concentrate. How did she learn such an unusual ability so quickly?

Listra replied, I am sorry, but I do not know how she does it, only that she does.

Perhaps she should be teaching our summoners, mused Graydon.

Glancing around the room, the queen probed again, Any other ideas on how we can protect ourselves?

The captain offered, We have established patrols and adjusted assignments to blanket areas of the castle that were not previously covered. That will not stop the sorcery, but at least we should be able to witness an act before it is too late.

Assuming Tennath's man is correct, what about the insider? asked Baron Hendricks. To date, we have been unsuccessful in locating any accomplices. We cannot afford to allow a traitor to escape justice.

The queen shared his frustration, saying, Our performance on that issue has been poor. I would welcome any ideas.

Tennath suggested, One of the primary objectives of the investigators sent to Kendorus should be to learn the identity of the insider.

Stratton complained, I still do not understand why summoners are unable to glean anything from the spirits. They provided no information when we were searching for the prince, and they still offer nothing. Surely, they must know something! Glancing at the others for support, the aged baron added, Right? It is almost like they are refusing to serve us. Hendir ought to be furious!

Should we consult with Armond Barrellis? asked Baron Hendricks. The archbishop should be able to help.

The queen nodded. Padraig, you and Nestor schedule a link with the archbishop. Obtain his guidance, and formally request his aid in resolving the issue. Perhaps he will personally consult the spirits for us.

Baron Hendricks acknowledged, Yes, Your Majesty. Baron Stratton nodded in compliance.

Tennath, do you think Pastran's abduction and the attempt on your life at the front are in any way connected? Are we facing multiple attacks designed to destroy the royal family?

Your Majesty, I have considered the possibility. There is no obvious link back to a responsible party. The methods, motives, and goals were completely different, and I have no reason to believe Kendorus was involved in the attack at the front. I have been able to determine only three similarities between the events. First, both were attacks against members of the Canol family. Second, sorcerers were involved. Third, Jon Crawford saved both of us.

The queen reflected on Tennath's comment before addressing everyone. We need to end the discussion soon. The open reception will be starting in half an hour, and I want to make sure Pastran is ready. I expect a crowd, so please do not let these unanswered questions and related frustrations show on your face. Part of our duty is to give people hope and a sense of stability. Now, any other topics before we close?

Padraig said, Your Majesty, I attended the last session of Parliament. If we want to send someone to the next session, they should leave almost immediately.

I see no reason to attend, answered Queen Xara. Kendorus will be there, and uncomfortable questions will be asked.

Tennath offered, I will link with Duke Windstrom to inform him of the most recent developments. He will be glad to hear Pastran is safe and may have additional thoughts for us to consider.

Xara nodded. I will do the same with my brother, Duke Rentella.

One more update, Tennath added. I had a link with Prince Nicandro this morning. He would like to conduct a formal state visit to foster the relationship established during the peace negotiations.

Armbruster rolled his eyes. Seriously? A month ago, he was our enemy!

The old Armbruster had returned.

185

Sir Jon Crawford

Whitehaven Castle, Bronland

The throne room was hot, muggy, enough to cause beads of perspiration on his forehead. Even with the high ceilings, the air was so thick, it was hard to breathe. Though the blue velvet chairs had been removed to create space, too many people crowded into the chamber, each noble working the room, flitting from one group to another. In the distant corner, a quartet played an unfamiliar melody that could barely be heard over the commotion and countless conversations. Servants offered sweet wine for ladies, dry red wine for noblemen, and pungent ale for commoners visiting from Sollane. They'd finally started refusing to serve a few that had taken advantage of the crown's hospitality. Aromas from the noble's perfumes mingled with body odor from peasants who hadn't bathed in days.

For many commoners, it was their first time in Whitehaven, the ancient palace of kings. Jon could feel the weight of history like he was wearing an extra set of chain mail. Everything around him made it seem like he was in a foreign country. Some of the commoners stared at the nobles in their colorful attire; others, at the fancy tapestries depicting Bronland history and Theocon legends, or the magnificent portraits of people they didn't recognize. He understood how they felt. He remembered feeling the same way in Marbeya.

Outnumbered, the nobility kept to themselves, huddling in distinct groups, as if afraid they might catch a disease through unintentional contact. The mingling of classes in such tight quarters was a rare occasion. Jon shook his head, thinking it odd that the return of the future king was the only way to bring people together from different ends of society. He wondered if he fit in even less now than he did before.

What's wrong? Darcy asked.

Just thinking.

About what?

As an orphan, I was clearly a commoner. I didn't have a trade or a family, no real way to fit in with any particular group, but at least I wasn't alone. There were other orphans and people didn't sneer, they just ignored me. Now that I'm a knight, I'm still not a noble, but I don't exactly fit with the commoners anymore, right? Just feels strange being in-between.

Darcy glanced across the room to a group of nobles from Sollane. When you say people didn't sneer, are you talking about how the nobles are treating you?

Jon decided against following her line of sight. He didn't want to see their faces again. The first fifty glares were enough. Yes. Apparently, word is out. People I've never seen look at me like …

What?

Shaking his head, he murmured, It doesn't matter.

You're right, it doesn't. Turning to the point where their shoulders almost squared, Darcy leaned forward, passion evident in her voice. They don't know you. They don't know what you've been through. What they think about your family is not important.

Pardon me.

Jon and Darcy turned to find a boy of about thirteen waiting less than a pace away, his father standing behind with both hands on his shoulders. The boy dressed in simple homespun, his coif was crinkled into a ball in his hands. The father had a week's growth on his face, brown eyes signaling an apology for the intrusion. Jon answered, Yes?

The boy stammered, Are … are you Jon Crawford?

Yes.

They said you saved the prince. They said you were knighted. Is that right? Were you?

Yes, but I had a lot of help from my friends. This is Darcy Fletcher. Without her, we would never have rescued the prince. Of course, he wouldn't have been knighted without Veras's items. He wouldn't even be alive. He'd proven that recently, almost dying when the Kendorians attacked during the race back to Bronland with the prince. Would the boy still want to meet if he knew the truth?

Looking back over his shoulder, the boy cried, "I told you! See? I told you. He was knighted! A commoner was knighted! Sir Jon Crawford!"

Patting the boy's shoulders, the father leaned down. You were right, Aaron. You were right.

Studying Jon from head to foot, as if memorizing the image, Aaron finally said, I want to be a knight.

Aaron's father winced but remained silent. Perspiration dotted his brow below the linen coif.

Though Jon was quite a bit older when Ralen found him in an alley, something about the boy triggered memories of his mentor. Ralen had always expected more than the world would ever give or his squire could ever imagine. He demanded knightly behavior from an uneducated street rat. It turned out he was right. Jon could hear his voice, see the Urothian standing before him, looking down, teaching as if a nameless orphan were the most important person in the world. After the last few months, would he be proud? Probably, but Jon doubted he would be completely satisfied. Ralen was never satisfied with himself, and he had the same expectations for his squire. Character could always be improved. Jon stuck out his right hand. It's a pleasure to meet you, Aaron.

Tentative at first, Aaron shook his hand.

If you want to be a knight, start first by working on your character. You must have high expectations of yourself. Always behave like you're already a knight, with honor, discipline, respect, bravery, humility, and above all, truth.

I … I will.

Good. Then I look forward to hearing about your knighting someday.

Thank you, sir. Thank you!

Aaron's father smiled, nodding his head in gratitude before pulling his son back into the pressing crowd.

Darcy's hazel eyes met his own. Where did you hear that? The part about working on your character?

Ralen told me on my first day as his squire. He described four areas that I had to work on. That was the first. Thinking about the boy, Jon wondered if he should share some of Ralen's teachings with Arnie and the other orphans in Nelborg. Were they old enough to understand? Jon knew he still had lots to learn, but if he didn't teach them, who would?

Darcy gave him an odd look, as if a question were forming in her mind, waiting to be answered. Her warm gaze made him uncomfortable. Looking away to scan the crowded room, he could feel her still searching, hazel eyes unapologetic. Finally, she asked, Can we go out into the courtyard for a walk? Fresh air would be good.

Of course. It'd be nice to breathe again.

Wading through the crowd that packed the throne room, the great hall, and the nearest portion of the courtyard, they stepped out into the open air. Jon inhaled deeply, feeling like he'd escaped from a suffocating trap. The sun was setting in the west, the last rays of day coursing over the western wall to light the top half of the red limestone of the keep. Its hazy counterpart started to rise in the east, not yet illuminating the evening. Beyond the throng, the yard was unusually empty of men unloading wagons, blacksmiths hammering, or drovers herding future meals into pens. Even the guards seemed calmer than usual. Most of those remaining on duty stood watch with a pint in their hand; some, with a second waiting.

As noise from the swirling mass of people faded behind them, Darcy took a deep breath. Much better.

Jon glanced at the stables and teased, I'm sure Steve was better off with Faro, right? Who knows how many people he would've attacked in there.

Attacked? He's just a friendly puppy. Besides, I think he and Faro are becoming friends.

Jon nodded, but his thoughts started drifting back to the boy, Aaron. Someday, he would be expected to pick a squire who wouldn't be much older. But that could wait. First, he had to join an Order, learn how to dispense justice, hunt and kill monsters, and obey orders from captains and barons. It was too much to consider all at once. A knight was supposed to train his squire, but who trained the knight? He'd missed the required sessions that helped prepare any squire lucky enough to become a knight; in a way, he felt just like he had during his first week with Ralen. There was so much he needed to learn. When it came to selecting a squire, he didn't have enough experience to handle the responsibilities of his own role, let alone train a squire.

What should I do first? How am I going to be a knight and still follow Raphael's vision? Is there a way to do both?

Darcy interrupted his thoughts. I still can't believe everything that's happened.

Me neither. Continuing the leisurely stroll, they passed through the castle gate. The walls of Sollane rose a few hundred paces away, the city starting to settle in for the night. Jon chuckled. About a week ago, Genaro asked me if I was all right. Then I wasn't sure, but now, I'm positive. This is overwhelming. Even though Ralen told me to act like a knight, I never thought I'd be one.

You deserve it.

Jon was struck by her certainty. She meant it. He wasn't so sure. All the credit he was receiving really belonged to Veras's items.

Darcy stopped walking. Turning to face him, she continued, I'm not sure I've properly thanked you. You've saved my life more than once. You've taken care of me, been a good friend, and helped me out of a real mess. Now I'm serving Veras in a way that I don't completely understand, but it's exciting, and I'm happier than I've been in years. Placing her hand on his forearm, she added, Thank you.

Goose bumps ran up his arm. His stomach suddenly felt empty. He tried to reply, but his voice didn't sound normal. Well, you're welcome, but the feeling is mutual. You've saved my life, too. I … I don't want my new responsibilities to come between us.

Darcy smiled warmly. They won't. We're going to stay together.

Like before, she was certain. Darcy started walking again, chin up, hazel eyes glancing about. Her steps were light, hands clasped behind her back. Jon was slow to respond but quickly caught up, matching her gait. He felt strange. His palms were sweating as if he were about to enter another battle at the front. Underarms itched from anxiety, but he wasn't being warned of danger by a seraph; at least he was sure of that. He felt relieved when Darcy changed the