White Palace's soldiers and servants bowed or snapped to attention with greetings as Arthur and Noel climbed the curved stairs to the corridors that connected to the Royal Sleeping Quarters and the Great Hall.

  They walked the corridor and up another flight of stairs to Arthur's room nearby.

  Arthur groaned when his other brother, Ren, who was also ten years his elder but younger than Noel, was in his room laying out his clothes to wear for the occasion on his four-poster bed.

  "Ren. You're not a manservant." Arthur screwed up his face.

  "If you were to listen to me, you would have one by now." Ren huffed and continued fussing over the outfits for Arthur to wear before their father.

  If Noel was a bearish-looking warrior, Ren was a bean pole with gentle and tanned skin, softer appealing features of green eyes, slender nose, and lips. His short brown hair was neatly combed back. He preferred to wear a modest navy coat and tunic over dark trousers and boots. His sheathed daggers at his belt were hints at the man being a formidable fighter.

  Noel and Ren were his brothers from different mothers. Two in fact. Noel's mother was the Duchess of Cobwall, who died when enemies from the North invaded the area. Ren had no blood relation to either of them, actually. He was the son of a noble who had sacrificed his life to save Uthur's when they were gathering supporters for his seat on the throne. Uthur had adopted Ren after both his parents had perished. Both of his brothers surprisingly worked well together, which aided court matters greatly.

  Arthur rolled his eyes at Ren's fussing over his body, as he helped undress and redress into a fresh regal tunic, dark trousers, and boots. His left arm was covered in steel plate armor, bearing the White Lily family emblem.

  "It will have to do. We can't keep our father waiting." Ren sighed.

  The three of them returned to the Great Hall's double-door entrance.

  Arthur approached the doors and took in a deep breath.

  The sentry guards nodded and opened the way into the hall.

  The brothers made their way down the hall to the throne upon the stage at the end, where they stood and waited patiently for their father to greet them.

  "Arthur." Uthur's voice was neither welcoming nor condemning.

  It was this tone that made Arthur the most nervous around the man.

  People had said that Arthur was a younger version of Uthur, even with the same passion and cockiness. Over the years, Uthur's fearlessness had waned as his age did. His short blond hair was grayer, and many wrinkles creased his forehead and cheeks, but he was still appealing for his age. He wore navy-silver-lined robes bearing the Pentaghast house emblem on the clasp at his chest. The lightweight gold king's crown sat snugly on his head.

  "So, have you cooled down now?" Uthur soberly asked.

  "Define cooled down. Ouch!" Arthur cursed at the discreet pinch Ren gave his side; his usual hint to rein in his brashness.

  Uthur sighed and dismissed his counselors except for his trusted advisor. He stepped down to approach his sons.

  "With the jousting match defaulted to Sir. Smithers, you have been eliminated from the Grand Tournament." Uthur reminded Arthur.

  Arthur instantly released his complaints about it all being Chifton's fault.

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  "He's just a horse, Arthur." Uthur's voice betrayed his anger. "At your age, I would expect you to control the beast!"

  Arthur wasn't backing down. "Chifton isn't a horse. What horse can speak?!"

  Ren soughed, envisioning sparks flying between Uthur and Arthur's eyes, as they growled complaints and reasons back and forth.

  Noel groaned.

  "Sires! May we step back for the moment." Ren's soothing voice of reason calmed the escalation.

  "Of course, Ren. You have a suggestion." Uthur sweetly asked him, which had Arthur hissing and pouting.

  "Well, we certainly can't place Arthur on display before the court and other knights. He will be utterly and shamelessly roasted. We need a way to..."

  Before Ren could continue his suggestion, Uthur took over with his own.

  "I see, yes, I'm glad we agree. We have to save face here."

  The three brothers exchanged pensive glances.

  It was at this point that the other person in the room entered the conversation.

  "My son has been assigned to retrieve an artifact of great power from the Mistic Mountains. May I suggest Arthur joins him with his own quest."

  Arthur screwed up his face at the notion of Galahad going on a dangerous quest. He could just picture the man having a debate with locals about kingdom tax justifications instead of going all out in a battle.

  "Why?" He blurted.

  The gods of timing would have it, Galahad entered and stood next to Ren. He was throwing dagger-looks at Arthur for having failed in his task to retrieve the dodgy prince.

  "He's here, so that's all that matters." Ren patted Galahad's shoulder.

  Galahad nodded and relaxed. But relaxation was short-lived, and he felt stressed.

  Arthur and Galahad moaned when they realized the task they had to perform to prove their manhood to the masses.

  Arthur had to get an ancient sword (something of an enchanted blade apparently), which was probably some throw-away rusted junk, now important because his never-met uncle had demanded it. Galahad had to get some holey cup. Likely the artifacts came with some substantial power deals or other forms of monetary gain. Why else go on a journey to acquire used goods?

  "I'm not leaving the palace for a sword. Why can't I get a new one at the blacksmith?" Arthur argued.

  "You'll get the sword, or I'll confiscate all your Heroic Knight and His Barbarian Maid reading materials, and make sure the monks never release another edition," Uthur warned him.

  Arthur's head nearly snapped and exploded at the horrible thought of never holding any of his favorite reading materials ever again.

  "I'll get the sword," he instantly answered, which appeased Uthur.

  "And deliver it to the sect. You're not to come back to the palace until your task is done." Uthur set the terms.

  And that was how it was. No amount of arguing from the two youngsters was going to get them out of their duty.