The sun shone brightly down from a clear sky, making leaves shimmer like an emerald jewels. Closer to earth, the songs of birds combined with the calls on insects to create a cacophony of noise, greeting the coming of spring boisterously after a long winter. In a small clearing within the forest, a pair of youths faced off against one another, oblivious to the din and the wildflowers in full bloom that created dramatic sprays of colour around their feet.

  The shorter of the youths, Alain Sumner, was fourteen. He was short for his age and frail, but his eyes smouldered as he eyed his foe. She looked relaxed, almost bored, but Alain could see no openings. Gratia Laevis and lived down the road. She was a year younger than Alain, but already slightly taller and slightly more muscular. It was not by much, but it was enough to stoke deep resentment within the boy. It gnawed at Alain’s ego but not as much as the fact that she was touted by the townsfolk as a prodigy with the sword.

  Alain tightened his grip around his weapon, a sturdy tree branch. He had scoured the forest behind his house for a week, and it was the one that best matched the length and heft of a longsword that he could find. Meanwhile, his opponent’s choice of weapon, a two foot long branch, was bent and twisted, clutched lazily in her hand. She had found it on the way over to their duelling site, this small clearing that would be far away from prying eyes.

  A gust of wind blew in from the north, bringing an icy chill with it, and startling a flock of birds that shrieked in alarm as they took to the air. Alain saw Gratia’s eyes glance at the birds for a moment and darted forward, swinging from the shoulder with all his might. Without turning her head, Gratia’s branch flew upward with just enough force to send Alain’s blow astray.

  Caught off balance, Alain began stumbling forward. He saw Gratia move to support him and felt a surge of indignation. This was a duel! How dare she take him lightly! He twisted his body as he fell and lashed out with a second blow. The girl’s reflexes were as quick as lightning, and she arched her body back to avoid his clumsy swing, allowing Alain to tumble heavily to the ground.

  Furious with himself, Alain rolled quickly onto his back to find Gratia standing over him. She extended her hand, offering to help him up, and Alain petulantly lashed out with his stick. A deft kick sent his weapon spinning out of his hand, and Gratia pressed the tip of her stick at his neck.

  She heaved a weary sigh before asking. “Do you yield?”

  “I yield,” he replied through gritted teeth, prompting Gratia to take a step back.

  “Don’t you have a lesson with Brother Joflon?” she asked, looking pointedly over her shoulder in the direction of town.

  Alain scowled before picking himself up. “A lesson in daydreaming. I have better things to do with my time.”

  “Your father thinks it’s important,” Gratia pointed out.

  The boy’s scowl deepened. “That useless layabout doesn’t know the first thing about the heart of a true, hot blooded man.”

  Gratia turned around to him, and Alain fell silent. Her pale skin, sharp features and full lips were framed against the clear blue sky in such a way that it caused his pulse to quicken. At length, she cocked an eyebrow. “Do you think this is a productive use of your time?”

  Just like that, it was as though a spell had been broken, and Alain fumed. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  And how could she? Alain had been ridiculed for as long as he could remember, partly because of his diminutive stature, and partly because of his father’s reputation. Meanwhile, since arriving with her family in Batonsin three years ago, Gratia had taken the town by storm with her looks and her natural prowess with the sword. She was a natural and was already the darling of Locthar Sinlit’s fencing school, getting personal tutelage from the master himself, free of charge, while the old swordsman wouldn’t give Alain the time of day whenever he tried to enrol.

  “Yes, who could understand the arduous road you tread?” Gratia remarked dryly. “Are we done here? I have an afternoon training session with Lochtar, and you know what that old goat is like when it comes to punctuality.”

  “One more round,” Alain insisted as he hurried to retrieve his sword. Brother Joflon would have a mountain of chores ready for him as punishment for his tardiness, but his foe was known as Gratia the Undefeated for miles around. Alain had challenged her repeatedly so that he might be known as the first in her age group to gain a match off her. He had yet to taste success in over three hundred attempts, but he had a good feeling about today.

  “Fine,” she sighed. As they squared off again, she cocked her head and frowned. “Say, isn’t it your coming of age soon?”

  “Yes, next week,” Alain replied curtly, refusing to be distracted.

  “Is there anything you would like?” she ventured.

  “A victory off you,” he snapped.

  “Well then, if that’s all it is,” Gratia said, before casting her weapon aside and raising her arms. “Come on then, consider this an early present.”

  “A real victory!” he cried. “There’s no honour if you let me win.”

  Gratia let out an exasperated sigh as she retrieved her discarded weapon. “Well, do you want to win, or don’t you”

  “I want to win against you fighting at your best!” Alain roared before lunging at her. He swung his branch with two hands, and his eyes widened. The trajectory and speed felt good. Could this be it? The prospect of victory flashed before his eyes, but as soon as it appeared, Gratia darted forward and struck Alain across the hands with a compact, precise blow.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  The boy gasped from the pain, and his weapon went flying from his hands. Gratia leapt back to guard against any further treachery, but all thoughts of prolonging the fight had left Alain’s mind. He bowed his head to hide the tears in his eyes from her and flicked his wrists back and forth to reduce the pain in his fingers.

  “Are you alright?” she asked. The concern in her voice only served to infuriate Alain further.

  “I’m fine,” he growled, turning his body away from her.

  “You charge like a bull,” she said softly. “It makes it easy to lead you by the nose. You need to be more thoughtful… and stop taking full swings. It doesn’t take much force for a sword to…”

  “I’ve decided what I want for my coming of age,” Alain said, cutting her off. He had no interest in a repeat of a lecture he had heard countless times before. He would win his way.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Another ten… no, twenty duels,” he demanded.

  “That’s three a day,” she protested. “What about your lessons?”

  “We’ll find the time,” he snapped indignantly. “I’ll get my victory yet!”

  “Alright then,” she sighed. “Twenty duels, it’s a promise.”

  “I’ll defeat you in ten,” Alain insisted. “You’ll see. My first victory over you will signal the beginning of my undefeated streak!”

  “If you say so,” she sighed wearily.

  Alain was about to retort when more birds took to the air behind them. Then, a lanky red headed boy appeared amongst the trees.

  “Ah, there you are, Alain!” he said breathlessly. “You need to go home at once.”

  “Why?” Alain demanded. Eldrick was two years older than Alain and was taller than even many of the adults in town, standing over a head taller than Alain.

  “Just come with me,” the older boy snapped.

  “What’s going on?”

  Eldrick’s face brightened when he saw Gratia. “Oh, you’re here as well. The shrimp challenged you to another duel, no doubt.”

  “Don’t call me that,” Alain snapped hotly.

  “I don’t know why you give him the time of day,” Eldrick continued, ignoring Alain.

  Gratia glanced at Alain, and a smirk twisted her lips. “Oh, you know him. He’ll go crying to my mother if I don’t entertain him, and then I’ll get an earful when I get home.”

  “That was a lifetime ago!” Alain protested.

  “It was last fall,” she retorted. “I don’t know why she always seems to favour you…”

  “Speaking of mothers, you need to get home, Alain!” Eldrick exclaimed.

  That caught Alain’s attention. “What about my mother?”

  “They say her killer has resurfaced,” Eldrick said. “Come on, come with me!”

  Gratia grabbed Alain by the shoulder, stopping him from running after the older boy. He tried to break free, but her grip was like a vice. “Who is saying this, Eldrick?”

  The older boy shrugged. They were travelling under important looking banners that I didn’t recognize, and I only caught a few words of their conversation with your father before they chased me away, and I came straight here to fetch you.”

  “Let me go,” Alain gasped as he struggled to break out of her grasp.

  Gratia released him, causing the boy to stumble. He glowered at her, but her attention was focused fully on Eldrick.

  “What did you hear, precisely?” her voice was soft, but there was an edge to it that Alain had never heard before.

  Even Eldrick was taken aback. He swallowed before replying. “They said he had surfaced… The Legion…”

  The colour drained from Gratia’s face. “You heard that name, the Legion? You’re sure?”

  “As sure as a summer day is long,” the older boy replied.

  Gratia fell silent. At length, Alain said. “My mother isn’t dead. There isn’t a person alive who could lay a glove on her, but if this Legion knows where she is…”

  Eldrick and Gratia exchanged concerned looks. It had been five years since Andrea Sumner left their town in search of the dangerous fugitive known as the Legion, and three years since she had been last seen alive. Everyone, even Argan, Alain’s father assumed she was dead. Everyone except Alain, who revered his mother.

  “Lead the way, Eldrick,” he ordered, struggling to keep his emotions in check.

  The three youths grew up in the forest bordering Batonsin, and it took them less than ten minutes to reach the edge of town. They passed Gratia’s house first. It was a modest single storey building built from timber and possessing only two rooms. Alain was surprised to find no signs of life. Normally, Gratia’s mother would be busy tending the garden at this time of the day. Gratia’s father was a travelling merchant, and Alain had only seen him twice since the Laevis’ moved into Batonsin.

  The Sumner Residence stood further up the road. It was a large two storey building that stood on the edge of the forest. Unlike the surrounding houses, it was made from stone and topped with a thatch roof. It was the house Alain was born in and where he had lived for his whole life. Eldrick’s home stood next to it and was far more modest in comparison.

  Men clad in plate armour were standing outside Alain’s home, while a crowd of curious onlookers had gathered across the road. The armoured men paid them no heed as they chatted amongst themselves. As the trio approached, the armoured men’s gazes turned to them. One of them held a banner bearing a red lion on a field of white that fluttered proudly in the wind. When Alain saw it, he elbowed Eldrick sharply in the ribs. Gratia followed suit a moment later.

  “Ow,” the older boy protested. “What was that for?”

  “That, you idiot, is our king’s banner,” Gratia hissed.

  “The King?” Eldrick blinked in disbelief. “Go on, pull the other one, you two are having me on!”

  “It’s true, I saw it at the Fall Tournament,” Gratia insisted. “The King’s cousin was there to present the grand prize. It was a huge deal.”

  “Must me nice, being invited to Royal Tourneys,” Eldrick sniffed.

  “And Brother Joflon had me memorize the banners of all the Great Houses during our lessons,” Alain added, not wanting Gratia to show him up.

  “If that is the King’s banner, what’s he doing at Alain’s house?” Eldrick wondered.

  “Let’s find out,” Alain muttered before taking a step forward.

  When they saw the trio approach, two of the armoured men stepped out onto the road to bar their paths. Both were powerfully built, and it was hard to ignore the swords sheathed at their hips. “Move along, there is nothing for you to see here.”

  “Come on,” Eldrick whispered into Alain’s ear. “You heard the intimidating men. Let’s move along.”

  “Why did you even bring him here if you’re going to chicken out straight away?” Gratia muttered.

  Alain ignored their bickering and puffed his chest out. “This is my home, and I wish to see my father.”

  One of the armoured men arched an eyebrow. “This is the son of Argan Sumner?”

  “He’s lying,” the other snarled. His friends shrank back a pace when the man placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, but Alain was confused. The first man had whispered his father’s name with such reverence that he was unsure if they were referring to the same person.

  Alain felt the blood rush to his face, but before the choice obscenities he had thought up could spew from his mouth, a man clad in armour that was as white as freshly driven snow stepped forward. “Stand down, men. That is indeed the Ogre’s son.”

  Alain blinked when the man raised the visor of his helmet, revealing a lived in face dominated by a thick, bushy moustache. “Uncle Randal?”

  The man nodded. “It’s been years, Alain. You have your mother’s eyes…”

  “Tell these men to let me in,” he demanded. “I need to see my father.”

  Randal nodded towards the two armoured men. “I’ll take him in. His Majesty will want to speak with him.”

  That caught Alain off guard, and he blinked in confusion. “Me? Why?”