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  The boulevard was quiet, but much like Highgarden there were finely dressed couples walking along the bank enjoying the serene and peaceful surroundings. Soren and his two companions drew some curious glances, but not quite the same suspicion that Soren had felt the first time he had entered Highgarden. It seemed their clothes marked them out quite clearly as not being local, but also as not being undesirables.

  As they rode along the boulevard toward the Palace, Soren could not help but admit that the city was the most beautiful place he had seen. He knew that he had only seen its exquisite façade and not the underbelly that he was sure was hidden away behind it, as was the case in Ostenheim, but still it truly was something to behold. The Palace itself was built on an island a short distance from the shore and was connected to the mainland by a bridge that was even more ornate than the one they had crossed to get into the city. Out on its own in the lake, it was mirrored perfectly by the still water and grabbed one’s attention completely and utterly.

  On the journey north Amero had told him that while Ostenheim had made its wealth as the trade hub between the empires in the east and all of the cities of the old Saludorian Empire that surrounded the Middle Sea, Ruripathia’s wealth was solely based on the fortune in gems and precious metals that were extracted from the Telastrian Mountains to the east. Diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, telastars and the ore from which Telastrian steel was made, as well as platinum and silver were all mined in large quantities and exported around the Middle Sea.

  Telastrian steel swords were one thing that Soren very much wanted to see while he was there. They were a rarity in the rest of the world, and fetched a king’s ransom but Soren thought, perhaps naively, that there would be far more of them in Ruripathia, being as it was the source of Telastrian steel. Amero had one, but said it was far too valuable to bring on a dangerous mission such as this. The blade would be kept safely and passed on down the generations of his family. Soren had thought it a shame that such a sword would never be used for its intended purpose, and resolved that if he was ever lucky enough to own one he would use it properly.

  The most famous of them were named, usually by the man that had first wielded it but sometimes with the older ones, the name had come afterward as the deeds that were carried out with it drifted from history to legend. The steel was said to be unbreakable, flexible yet also hard enough to retain a razor edge. It didn’t rust and there were few things hard enough to chip the blade. The combined qualities created a peerless sword that would last for generations. Once it was forged however, it could never be re-forged, and the steel was notoriously difficult to work. Only the most skilled smiths would even attempt it.

  While the city was magnificent, the Palace was truly awe-inspiring and ever more so the closer one got. It was constructed of white stone and its roof was a mix of blue-grey slate turrets and verdigris domes. It was beautiful, imposing and a firm statement of power and wealth.

  ‘They certainly have a flair for the dramatic, these northerners,’ said Amero disdainfully. ‘And architecture,’ he added, grudgingly. They trotted out onto the causeway leading to the Palace after again showing their letters of safe passage to the guards stationed at its shore end.

  As they drew closer Soren could see that the walls were decorated with alcoves between the columns that contained bronze statues, looking grand and ancient, weathered as they were to a faded blue-green colour. Added to what was already an impressive building was the fact that there were lights on behind many of the windows. Their warm glow was also reflected in the water. In the centre of the front of the building was a great arch supported by massive ornate pillars. Recessed into this was a double door that entirely filled the space created by the arch.

  A guard hidden in the shadow of the arch issued a challenge. He stepped forward out of the gloom to take the letters of safe passage from Emeric. He nodded to a second guard, who like the first was dressed in a livery of dark grey.

  ‘Dismount and come with me please,’ he said, in heavily accented Imperial. Language was conveniently the one remaining common feature in all of the states of the former Empire, although differences in accent and slang could on occasion make comprehension a little more difficult.

  He banged three times on the door. A small hatch opened and then closed, and the door was opened. The arch continued underneath the building, opening onto a courtyard at its centre, flanked on all sides by the Palace itself. Their horses were taken by a stable boy and led away.

  They waited there for a few minutes, Soren taking the opportunity to absorb his surroundings. The courtyard was paved with slabs slightly darker than the walls of the building. In the centre there was a magnificent marble fountain surrounded by neatly trimmed ornamental bushes and small, carefully shaped trees. Opposite the archway through which they had entered was the main door into the Palace itself, a grand affair at the top of several steps set amidst a mass of stone carvings of battle scenes. The walls were lined with windows and smaller doorways, and it was to one of these smaller doors that they were led.

  A grey haired man in very fine clothes exited a door on the opposite side of the courtyard and walked briskly toward them.

  ‘The city gate sent word of your arrival, but it came as something of a surprise as we weren’t expecting you for another couple of days! I hope you had a safe journey,’ said the man.

  ‘We took a shortcut through the ruins of Rurip, not altogether the safest choice, but it saved us some time,’ replied Amero.

  ‘No, that road is very dangerous. Clearing the ruins of looters is high on the Prince’s agenda, but with so many stories about the place it is difficult to generate any enthusiasm for the job, but that is neither here nor there. I am Varo, the Royal Steward. Allow me to formally welcome you to the court of Prince Siegar the Fourth. I shall take you to your apartments and the Prince will receive you in the morning.’

  The step from a street corner to his small attic room in the Academy had been monumental. The step from there to the room he was presented with in the Palace was equally big. The accommodation assigned to him in the Palace was opulent, and, he noted with some slight embarrassment, far better than that assigned to Emeric, who had been given one of the several servant’s rooms attached to Amero’s apartment. He was a pupil at the Academy though, and it was one of the first occasions that he began to realise what this really meant.

  There was a bedroom, a water closet with both hot and cold running water on tap, which was something he had never seen before, a lounge and a dressing room. There was also a small servant’s room attached, although this would remain vacant. The whole apartment shouted a luxury that was entirely alien to Soren. He had thought his room in River House to be the height of luxury. Compared to this it was little better appointed than a stable.

  The household had dined already that night, so a meal was served for the three in Amero’s apartments. The food was not in the same quantity as Soren had experienced at the Academy, but the quality was far higher, something he had not believed possible. As he tucked into his second helping of a sweet, fluffy meringue, he decided that should he ever be wealthy enough, he would very much like a personal chef who could make them. He chuckled to himself at the thought. It certainly was a far cry from stolen, stale bread.

  ‘As the diplomatic gifts aren’t here yet, I expect the formalities will be dispensed with and we will cut straight to business. The Duke desires that the peace treaty between Ostia and Ruripathia be extended. He seems to think that the people do not have the stomach for another war so soon after the last one, but I wonder if perhaps it is he that does not have the stomach for such matters,’ said Amero. He watched Soren closely as he made his comment about the Duke, but when Soren did not react in any way, he continued. ‘Soren, you will join me for most of the meetings, it will be good for you to learn some diplomacy by seeing it rather than reading about it in a book. Some of the sessions will be closed however. I will let you know when you need to leave.’

  The f
ollowing morning Soren unpacked and dressed in the one set of clothes he had brought on the ride ahead. They were ones that he had not seen before, having been bought by Amero’s servants in preparation for the trip north. There was an entire trunk of other clothes and accessories following on with the carriages that he had also not seen. It was all fine and fancy so as not to let down the great city-state of Ostia.

  They weren’t all that bad though, a navy colour with white trimmings, it seemed to go well enough with the blue Academy doublet he wore over it. On top went the wide brimmed hat. The whole ensemble made him look like one of the dandies he saw walking around Highgarden and made him feel like a peacock, but he did have to admit that he now looked the part, and didn’t imagine he would attract many suspicious glances in the better parts of Brixen. At least the hat didn’t have a plume, as seemed to be becoming more fashionable, but something he could not abide.

  After they had enjoyed a delicious breakfast in Amero’s apartment, a chamberlain came to collect them. He led them to the lowest floor of the Palace and down a series of plushly carpeted halls, lined with busts and paintings. This hall brought them around the inside of the building to a larger hallway that the main entrance he had seen the night before led in to. At the end of this hallway open double doors with the royal arms of Ruripathia above them led into what Soren assumed was the main hall of the Palace. There were people hanging around in that hallway, many looking nervous, pacing up and down or wringing their hands, clearly waiting for an audience with the Prince. There were also a number of aristocratic looking types in martial clothing with heavy looking steel coloured fur cloaks over their shoulders. Soren’s party were brought straight through and he caught several annoyed glances being cast in their direction.

  The next set of doors led to a small antechamber, which accommodated two guards in impressive dress uniforms and shining silver breastplates. The doors out of this room led finally to the main hall of the Palace. The room was in keeping with the rest of the building. The floors, the great ornate columns that stretched up to the high ceiling and the statues that filled alcoves along the room’s sides were of white marble with a grey swirl running through it. Furnishings of dark wood were decorated with silver, and silver was inlaid in all the statues and decoration on the marble. Swaths of fur lined with red cloth decorated the room, the red warming the otherwise cold appearance, as did two massive fireplaces on either side of the hall, which crackled and spit as the massive logs within them were devoured by the flames.

  ‘Banneret of the Blue, Count Elector of Ostia, Amero, Lord of the County of Moreno and his party,’ announced the Chamberlain.

  A few of the other people in the room turned to look at the visitors from the south, the guards remained impassive as ever, and the Prince, sitting in a chair on a raised platform at the other end of the hall whispered with the steward, Varo for a moment before Varo beckoned them to come forward.

  ‘Your Serene Highness, it is an honour to present myself at your court. I bring the warm greetings and regards of the Duke of Ostia,’ said Amero, bowing formally.

  Soren copied Amero’s bow and stepped back, watching the formalities unfold. Emeric shifted uneasily beside him, uncomfortable in these surroundings. Soren, despite himself, found that he was quite enjoying the new experience.

  ‘I receive your mission from Ostia gracefully and in the spirit of friendship. I hope our discussions may prove fruitful,’ said the Prince.

  ‘The great state of Ostia also sends gifts, Highness, but sadly they and our baggage have not yet arrived,’ replied Amero.

  ‘Yes, my chancellor tells me that you took the road through Rurip to make better time. A courageous choice,’ the Prince said evenly.

  The exchange was so formal it felt as though it was scripted, and it continued for several minutes. There was a girl sitting in front and to the right of the Prince. From the neat tiara she wore he assumed she was Princess Alys, the widower Prince’s only child, his only legitimate child at any rate. She was not especially pretty, handsome might be a more appropriate word, but attractive nonetheless and about the same age as Soren.

  What was most striking about her was the combination of honey coloured hair, fair skin and impossibly blue eyes. Women in Ostenheim tended to be dark of hair and complexion and although he had seen some whores who dyed theirs, he had never seen a girl with hair quite like hers. She had a disdainful, haughty look on her face, but when she caught Soren’s gaze, her expression became unreadable. It was stern, but betrayed no information about what she was thinking, despite the fact that she was clearly appraising him. It reminded him that he was representing his Duchy now and not just himself. He tried to adopt an equally unreadable expression. The last thing that he wanted to do was to reveal the fact that he was a diplomatic novice and of how impressed with the whole experience that he was. Disdainful boredom seemed to be the appropriate demeanour.

  The remainder of the morning was spent discussing a variety of unimportant things, unimportant at least to Soren. Trade quotas and tariffs were the main topic, with concessions for merchants and similar economic topics featuring in the discussion. There was nothing to do with a peace treaty, but perhaps Amero was setting the stage and tone for those negotiations. In the afternoon the session was closed. Emeric went back to his small room to read, leaving Soren at his own devices for the remainder of the day.

  He sat by the fountain in the inner courtyard for a little while, wondering whether or not to venture into the city to explore. He was struck by how peaceful the little courtyard was, the babbling of the water in the fountain, and the way the surrounding Palace shut out all the noises of the world around it. The bench he sat on was in a little alcove of miniature trees with its back to the fountain. He was lost in his thoughts when he heard a voice.

  ‘You are in my seat!’

  He looked around to see the Princess standing in front of him.

  ‘Your Highness, I apologise, I had no idea!’ he stuttered, as he stood up.

  ‘Don’t panic, I’m only joking!’ she said. ‘You haven’t brought the negotiations to a calamitous end.’ She smiled in a tired, forced way and sat. ‘Now sit, I never get to talk to people my own age.’

  Soren sat and she continued.

  ‘Your rooms? Are they to your satisfaction?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, your Highness, they are quite simply magnificent. My room at the Academy is smaller than the dressing room!’ he said.

  She smiled and looked down at her feet.

  ‘The steward said that you are a tyro. Have you visited our Academy yet, or the Bannerets’ Hall?’

  ‘No, your Highness, we only arrived in the city last night,’ Soren replied carefully.

  ‘Oh, they didn’t tell me when you arrived. It’s quite an important mission, you are lucky to have been taken along at such a young age!’

  ‘Yes, the Count of Moreno is my patron at the Academy. He wanted to bring me along for the experience.’

  ‘Ah, a patron. It is not a common practice at our Academy, but it happens occasionally. Some of the best swordsmen in the city were of common birth, though. Are you any good?’ she asked, then added quickly, ‘oh but of course you are going to say you are!’

  ‘I am thought to be competent, your Highness,’ Soren replied as diplomatically as possible.

  ‘That’s nice,’ she said, her lips curled slightly hinting at sarcasm. ‘Competent.’ Her voice drifted with facetious contemplation for a moment as she made a poor attempt at suppressing a smile. ‘It gets very warm in Ostenheim I understand. Does it ever snow there?’

  ‘No, your Highness, it doesn’t. It gets cold and wet in the winter, but I’ve never even seen snow!’ said Soren.

  ‘There is no need to say “your highness” every time you speak. I’m not likely to forget the fact any time soon! Never seen snow though? You should come to the Summer Palace in the mountains. At this time of the year there will still be lots of it! It only thawed here a couple of weeks ago. It�
�s a shame you missed it.’

  ‘Yes, I’d like to have seen some,’ said Soren.

  ‘So what do young people in Ostenheim do for fun?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, some of the students go to taverns, but mainly we just practice. Being at the Academy is too great an opportunity to squander,’ he said. He realised that he had betrayed his humble origins, if she had not already worked it out for herself. ‘I can’t really speak for anyone not in the Academy,’ he added, ‘but I imagine it’s balls and parties for the wealthy, and work for those not so.’

  ‘Much like here then really!’ she said, with a little disappointment. ‘Occasionally I go sailing on the lake, but I don’t get to do that often. I practice with a sword from time to time also. It’s fun, but I’ll never get to be particularly good. It isn’t really seemly for a princess to spend all of her time at sword practice. Father says that when I am in charge I’ll need to have some idea how to defend myself just in case!’

  ‘It certainly couldn’t hurt,’ Soren said.

  ‘Hmmm.’ She laughed as she stood up. ‘You’ll have to sit next to me at the banquet tonight. I can’t stand having to listen to some decrepit old lord who wants to marry me. You can tell me all about your journey and about Ostia.’

  Soren only now noticed the two ladies who were standing by the door beckoning for Alys to go with them.

  C h a p t e r 2 1

  DIPLOMACY IS DEAD

  Soren was not surprised to find a card bearing his name at the place beside Alys at the top table that night. Amero sat with the Prince and his council of state while other nobles made up the numbers at that table, many of them middle aged, single and hoping to find the favour of their future ruler. Unlike Ostia, Ruripathia had become a hereditary principality after the fall of the Empire due to the popularity of the first Prince, who, then still only a baron, led the state back to power from the wreck left behind after the Mage Wars. The current Prince was the last in an unbroken line of fathers and sons that led back to the first. Alys’s mother had died in childbirth, and the Prince had never remarried. This meant that for the first time in its history, Ruripathia would be ruled by a princess, and by the man lucky enough to wed her.