First of Spears Read online

  First of Spears

  by Billy Wong

  First of Spears

  Copyright © 2016 Billy Wong

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the Author. Your support of author’s rights is appreciated.

  All characters in this compilation are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Credits and author page

  Sample of Iron Bloom

  Chapter 1

  "Time to get up," Theo heard a familiar deep voice say, snapping him out of a half-awake vision of himself dancing with a graceful maiden in the town square while a crowd cheered.

  He opened sticky eyes a crack. The bright sunlight streaming in through the windows stung them. "Go away," he said, pulling the covers over his head.

  "Stop being such a child. Miss Sophie is waiting."

  His brother grasped him by the ankles and attempted to pull him out from under them. Damon had a bit of size and strength on him, but Theo was agile, slippery and strong enough. He freed one of his legs from Damon's grasp and kicked him away. "There's no need for her to wait, since I don't want to see her."

  Recovering his balance after stumbling a couple steps away, Damon put hands on his hips and let out a formal-sounding sigh. "As Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Egrent, I command you to get off that bed."

  "Oh, why do you have to be that way? You're not the one saddled with a horse for a fiancee, show your younger brother some compassion."

  Damon laughed. "So dramatic. Is the Earl of Thombele's daughter so bad? She looks fine to me, if a little overly demure. If you're going to marry her anyway, don't you think it's a good idea to get to know her now?"

  "There's nothing to know. She's boring as watching paint dry." The only good thing about her was her brother Rob, who had managed to become fast friends with him despite his sister. It was too bad Theo saw him less than her these days, due to the distance between their homes and their parents' priorities.

  "I hear she trains with the sword, so isn't that at least some common ground you have?"

  Theo snorted. "Does she now? That's what I heard too, but you wouldn't know speaking to her. Whenever I bring up sword technique, all she does is smile and nod. If I didn't know better I'd think she doesn't train at all. Even her dance moves are clumsy and slow, which you wouldn't expect in a fighter."

  His brother shrugged lightly. "Well, I would expect most women not to practice quite as seriously as men. You should take heart that she's physically active."

  "And yet it does her figure no favors at all." Lady Sophie was a big, awkward girl, nearly as tall as him and thick with it. The way she ponderously moved made him imagine flaps of fat jostling about under the loose garments, dangling like a curtain from wide shoulders, she always wore. Rolling around in bed with—or under—that... the very thought made him nauseous.

  "Come on, it's not so bad. Bigger women have their upside too. You'd know that if you were more experienced."

  "I'm not exactly dying to match your experience, then."

  Damon's tone grew exasperated. "Just get up. I have other things to do too. You know spending a few hours with Sophie won't be as bad as what Father will put you through if you refuse."

  "Oh, fine, I'm coming!" He rolled off the bed towards the wardrobe—crashing painfully onto the floor as he went over the edge. Those drinks he had last night in anticipation of Sophie's visit still affected him.

  His big brother turned and headed for the door. "Just don't delay too long. The Earl will have some words for Father if you get his daughter upset."

  Left alone, Theo exhaled wearily. Being a prince wasn't all it was cracked up to be. The songs spoke of rousing speeches, glory in battle and the admiration of maidens. What they didn't mention was endless meetings of important persons where a younger prince wasn't expected to utter a peep, grueling training so that one would not disgrace the kingdom if called on to fight, and soulcrushing arranged marriages which made the road of the future seem to narrow before him. He wouldn't become king either, and would forever be a "prince" unless something happened to Damon before he could father a child. Not that he wanted that, or to wear the crown. He wouldn't know how to make the hard decisions, not even after being raised by one who did and made to study politics since his early years.

  He dressed as slow as he could, hoping that if he annoyed Sophie enough, she could convince her father to dissolve their marriage arrangement for him. Of course, that was unlikely. Finally finished, he ambled miserably through castle hallways lined with tapestries towards the courtyard garden where she waited. Why couldn't a person who presumably enjoyed the brightness and color of the outdoors have a little more fire and spirit? He might be more willing to look past her unappealing appearance if she at least had that. All she did when they talked was ask him questions without enthusiasm, spoken as a lazy orator might recite lines for a public speech. She had hobbies or so she said, like sewing, gardening and even sword training, but didn't like to talk about much less display passion for them either. He suspected she did them more out of a sense of duty, that they were things she "should" do, than real interest.

  Maybe she had some hidden depths. It was possible. But as yet he hadn't really dared to try and plumb them, for if he discovered her to be as empty as she seemed on the surface, it would be too disheartening to bear. Just pondering it made him want to sink through the rich carpet that squished beneath his feet.

  He had almost made it to the garden when he spotted two strangers at a turn in the hall, both young women. One was short, petite and plain of face, wearing unremarkable if well made traveler's clothes which seemed somewhat out of place in the royal dwelling. The other was the most intriguing female he'd ever seen.

  She didn't stand especially tall, though her shoes brought her up to near the height of an average man. Yet the effortless confidence with which she strode, chin high, shoulders back, made her feel larger than life. Her outfit was completely unique. A smooth dress under scattered armor pieces—pauldrons, elbow guards, and plates over her hips—long elegant gloves, and heeled boots topped with metal knee pads. A brilliantly polished ornate spear stuck out over her back. It had a sturdy crossbar behind the head, the pointed ends of which would facilitate it being used like a pick. Her large eyes shone with what seemed like an ever-present challenge. And the soft face around which thick dark hair fell... he'd never laid eyes on one more beautiful.

  She was about to walk past him. "Hello, I'm T-Theo," he managed to blurt out.

  "Theo, is it? It's good that somebody greets me in lieu of just staring." She giggled. "And what is it you do around here, Theo?"

  "Uh, I... my father is the king."

  Not appearing intimidated—or even surprised—at all, she said, "So you're the prince of this country."

  "Actually, I'm just a prince. My brother is the heir, but we're both King Darius' sons."

  "Don't regard yourself as lesser because you were b
orn later. In my nation, all royal children are eligible to inherit the throne, and the final heir chosen by the monarch based on merit."

  Theo thought the idea wasn't bad. Damon would make a better ruler than him, but there had surely been times in history when a younger prince was more suited than the elder to reign. "What happens if the king dies before he can make a choice, though?"

  "Then the heir is chosen by the queen, or the king if the queen was the one who ruled and died. If the spouse is also dead, the choice falls to the council of advisors."

  "That's an interesting system. So are you a princess from this kingdom, and what's your name?" He imagined she must be a princess, to wear such boldly odd attire in public and show not the slightest qualms about it.

  She shook her head with a slight grin. "I've no royal blood. I am Claire, envoy of High Waloros, and my companion is my cook Lily."

  High Waloros? Theo grew a little unnerved. A great country ten times the size of his own whose ruler went by the title of The Hierarch, it often flexed its muscles towards smaller kingdoms, "encouraging" them to pay taxes for protection from mutual enemies, lend troops, stop trade with other nations which defied it, or fulfill other demands at its whim. But he retained his positive feeling towards her. "You brought a cook with you for the trip?" he asked, amused.

  "I can't cook very well, try as I do to learn. So why not bring a companion who can? She's happy to see the world too."

  "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Prince Theo," Lily said. He noticed she was a few years younger than he'd realized, probably in her mid teens. Claire seemed nearer his age, both in their early twenties.

  "Impressive if you're already a skilled cook. And what do you do, Claire, besides being an envoy for today? Judging from you carrying that unwieldy weapon everywhere, I daresay you might be a warrior."

  "Not so daring when it's obvious. I'm a knight. Back home they call me Princess of Spears."

  Theo cocked his head at her. "So you are a princess of sorts."

  "It doesn't suit me. I'd rather have the same lofty title my grandfather once did—First of Spears."

  "I'm sure if you keep working hard, someday you'll earn it."

  Her cheek twitched a bit as with displeasure, and he wondered what he'd said wrong. But it only lasted a fleeting moment. "You must train hard too. I can tell from those hard calluses on your hands."

  "Fairly hard, but that isn't surprising considering I'm a prince." He wondered what her hands were like under those gloves.

  "I admire your royal family's work ethic, then. There are many places where the rulers have been spoiled by power and see no need to hone their bodies."

  He hadn't always appreciated the intensity with which his swordmaster, the king's champion Gunther, pushed him. But he knew there were good reasons for it. "You won't always have others around to rely on in a pinch. Anyway, what might a knight of High Waloros like you be doing here?"

  She looked down, and for the second time the cheery mood of their conversation wavered. "You'll be at the official meeting, right?"

  He wished he hadn't brought it up. He should've known it wasn't likely to be favorable. "Yeah, my father always makes us watch his dealings with foreign diplomats."

  "Then let's wait to discuss it there. Anyway, do you need to be going somewhere?"

  Right, the session with boring old Sophie. Darn. "Sorry, yes I do. Talk to you again later?"

  Claire put her sunny face back on and waved him goodbye. "Of course. Good luck, it was nice meeting you!"

  Theo went on to the square courtyard where Sophie waited. They spent a predictably dull morning together, sipping tea at a stone table as they exchanged meaningless words about flowers. The one thing she had that others didn't was uncommon knowledge of plants, which she must read a lot about, but he wouldn't even remember most of their conversation by the end of the day. He was barely aware of what they said now, too busy thinking of Claire, her lovely face and vibrant energy. Now that was the kind of woman that befitted a prince! He should really have some say in choosing his wife, the wisdom of his elders be damned.

  Before they parted ways, he dared to ask about her hopes and dreams. In response she said, "My only goal is to serve my family well, both the one I have and the one I am to start."

  He really wished there was some way out of this arranged marriage business.

  #

  Later the same day, Theo's father called him into the throne room to observe. He watched from the side with the less important advisors and warriors, while Damon stood at the the king's shoulder and shared in adjudicating matters with him. Beside him loomed Gunther, a scarred tower of muscle with a gray-specked beard whose strength reflected that of the kingdom. They handled some mundane issues first, complains from disgruntled merchants and farmers, which might have seemed strange to an outsider knowing an envoy was here. But Theo knew why. His father didn't want High Waloros to think they were cowed, so he would treat the arrival of their emissary as no great matter. Theo would have been annoyed if he were in Claire's position, but this was how the royal posturing went.

  What they tried to show and what they did show weren't necessarily the same, though. When Claire was finally called in, all present watched uneasily as she strode with uncanny smoothness across the granite floor. Her presence seemed immense, filling the room, somehow making the great chamber smaller. Even the mighty veteran Gunther, who had won duels over dozens of famed fighters, eyed her with trepidation. Because he'd met and gained a positive impression of her before, Theo didn't feel as unnerved as the others appeared, but still marveled awestruck at her bearing. She knelt, but with her head held high didn't give the impression she believed herself the king's inferior at all.

  "State your name, position and purpose," Damon said, trying to sound firm but looking no surer of himself than anybody else.

  "I am Claire of Taltis, knight of High Waloros, First of Spears." So she would try to establish that moniker here, where she wasn't already well known by another. Theo cracked a smile at that, and wondered if it could also be a bit of a nod at him. She didn't look his way or do anything else to give it away, though. "I come with a message from the Hierarch, who requests a small favor from his fellow ruler of the continent."

  "And what favor might that be?" King Darius, a broad-shouldered man growing hefty in his middle years, asked.

  "Though our power remains far greater, the militaristic country of Fian which borders both of ours grows bold, and threatens to escalate our longstanding dispute into war. The Hierarch kindly asks that you send troops to your western border to dissuade them from that foolhardy notion."

  The angry muttering of advisors filled the room. "What?!" a heavyset lord cried, fleshy countenance turning red with outrage. "We have never had an issue with Fian, and with Ailune gathering an army to the north"—plus word of some of Egrent's own nobles wanting to defect, though no one with half a brain would mention that to a foreign emissary—"you expect us to turn on our good neighbor at a word from your Hierarch? Madness."

  "We do not ask that you attack Fian, only to station troops near it to show unity in our mutual desire for peace. Do you not value the peace of this continent, or would you be glad to see bloody war sweep over it? As for Ailune, do you think we will not remember those who acted in our interest? High Waloros would be the strongest ally you have against any enemy."

  The king spoke. "You ask that we threaten our neighbor unprovoked, nothing less. That is not something to be done lightly no matter who wishes it. And in case you thought otherwise, we are well aware the Hierarch's favor often is not lasting."

  Coolly, Claire replied, "His disfavor is."

  "Then let him show it!" Gunther boomed. "We will not grovel before the most powerful man in the world, much less the young girl he sends to deliver his word as if to mock us."

  Claire's demeanor finally wavered, as a flash of annoyance darkened her features. "If you think me a mockery, fight me and see."

  "What did you say
?" Gunther, along with everybody else, stared.

  She shook her head. "Never mind. Despite your apparent disdain for our nation, your merchants rely heavily on trade with us for their profits. If we increase restrictions on that trade, I suspect you would have greater trouble adjusting to it than we would."

  "Outrageous!" someone spat. "She dares to speak so to the king in his own house?"

  "We ought to send her back with her pride broken as an example," said another.

  Theo understood their point of view, but he didn't find Claire deserving of such venom. They would have acted the same towards another monarch if sent by their liege to do so, though perhaps not in as collected a manner.

  Darius raised a hand. "My champion may not be the most eloquent, but he spoke well. Even if you threaten us with harm, monetary or otherwise, our decisions remain our own. And nor will fear make them for us."

  Claire surprised Theo by smiling. "Your Majesty, you are a well spoken king. Just to be official, is your answer no?"

  "It is."

  "I will take that answer back to the Hierarch." Then she added, "Yours is a beautiful city. May I stay a few days to take it in?"

  "Of course," Damon said. He must have considered she might seek to learn more of the country's strengths and weaknesses, as even Theo thought about that. But to refuse would probably be taking their defiance of the Hierarch a step too far.

  The king called an end to the meeting and Theo hurried out after Claire, hoping nobody important noticed. He caught up to her in the hall. "You were incredible! I've never seen someone stand up so unerringly to Father before."

  She looked curiously at him. "You think that's a good thing?"

  "Um, well, there are obvious reasons why I shouldn't. And yet, what you just did back there was so impressive..."

  "I regularly deal with a much more frightful king, so speaking to your father would hardly leave me overawed."

  Thinking of the Hierarch, Theo grew serious. "Is there going to be war between us?"