“If it is all right, we’ll get back to you on that,” Royce said.

“I understand,” the prince said, revealing a hint of concern, “But I do hope you will be reasonable in your request and not bankrupt the kingdom.”

“You should address the court,” Pickering told Alric.

Alric nodded and he, Arista, and Mauvin disappeared down the stairs. Pickering lingered behind with the two thieves.

“I think there’s a chance that boy will actually make a decent king,” he mentioned once the prince was too far away to hear. “I had my doubts in the past, but he seems to have changed. He is more serious, more confident.”

“So, the sword is magic after all.” Hadrian motioned toward the rapier.

“Hmm?” Pickering looked down at the sword he wore at his side and grinned. “Oh, well, let’s just say it gives me an edge in a battle. That reminds me, why were you letting Braga beat you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw you fighting when we first came up. Your stance was defensive, your strokes all parries and blocks. You never once attacked.”

“I was frightened,” Hadrian lied. “Braga won so many awards and tournament competitions, and I haven’t won any.”

Pickering looked puzzled. “But not being noble born, you aren’t allowed to enter a tournament.”

Hadrian pursed his lips and nodded. “Now that you mention it, I suppose you’re right. You’d best see to your wounds, your lordship. You’re bleeding on your nice tunic.”

Pickering glanced down and looked surprised to see the slice Braga gave him across the chest. “Oh, yes, well, it doesn’t matter. The tunic is ruined from the cut anyway, and the bleeding seems to have stopped.”

Mauvin returned and trotted over to them. He stood next to his father, his arm around his waist. “I have soldiers looking for the dwarf, but so far no luck.” Despite the bad news, Mauvin was smiling broadly.

“What are you grinning at?” his father asked.

“I knew you could best him. I did doubt it for a time, but deep down, I knew.”

The count nodded and a thoughtful expression came over his face. He looked at Hadrian. “After so many years of doubt, it was fortuitous I had the opportunity and good fortune to defeat Braga, particularly with my sons watching.”

Hadrian nodded and smiled. “That’s true.”

There was a pause as Pickering studied his face and then he placed a hand on Hadrian’s shoulder. “To be quite honest, I for one am very pleased you’re not noble Mr. Hadrian Blackwater, quite pleased indeed.”

“Are you coming, your lordship?” Sir Ecton called, and the count and his sons headed off.

“You didn’t really hold back on Braga so Pickering could kill him, did you?” Royce asked after the two were left alone in the hallway.

“Of course not. I held him off because it’s death for a commoner to kill a noble.”

“That’s what I thought.” Royce sounded relieved. “For a minute, I thought you’d gone from jumping on the good-deed wagon to leading the whole wagon train.”

“Sure the gentry appear all nice and friendly, but if I’d killed him, even though they wanted him dead anyway, you can be sure they wouldn’t be patting me on the back saying good job. No, it’s best to avoid killing nobles.”

“At least not where there are witnesses,” Royce said with a grin.

As they headed out of the castle, they heard Alric’s voice echoing “…was a traitor to the crown and responsible for the murder of my father. He attempted to murder me and to execute my sister. Yet, due to the wisdom of the princess and the heroism of others, I am standing here before you.”

This was followed by a roar of applause and cheers.

Chapter 10: Coronation Day

Sixty-eight people had died, and over two hundred bore wounds from what became known as the Battle of Medford. The timely attack by the citizenry at the gate precipitated the prince’s entrance into the city, and arguably saved his life. Once news spread through the city of Alric’s return, all resistance ended. This restored peace but not order. For several hours after the battle, roving gangs took the opportunity to loot shops and storehouses, mostly along the riverfront. A shoemaker died defending his cobbler shop, and a weaver was badly beaten. In addition to the general thieving, the sheriff, his two deputies, and a moneylender were murdered. Many believed there were those who took advantage of the chaos to settle old scores. The killers were never identified, and no one bothered to look for the looters. In the end, no one was even arrested; it was enough that the violence was over.

Most of the snow that had fallen the day of the battle had melted over the next few days, leaving only dirty patches hiding in the shadows. Still for the most part, the weather remained decidedly cold. Autumn was officially finished, and winter had arrived. In the freezing winds, a silent crowd stood outside the royal crypt for hours as they removed Amrath’s body for the official state funeral. Many others were buried that same day. The funerals provided a cleansing of the entire city’s grief, followed by a weeklong period of mourning.

Among the dead was Wylin, the master-at-arms of Castle Essendon. He fell while directing the defenses at the castle gate. It was never determined if Wylin had been a traitor or had merely been deceived by the archduke’s lies. Alric gave him the benefit of the doubt and granted him burial with full honors. Although Mason Grumon died, Dixon Taft, manager of The Rose and Thorn, survived the battle with only the loss of his left arm just above the elbow. He might have died, along with many others, except for the efforts of Gwen DeLancy and her girls. Prostitutes, it turned out, made excellent nurses. The maimed and wounded who lacked family to care for them filled Medford House for weeks. When word of this reached the castle, food, supplies, and linens were sent.

News spread throughout Melengar of Alric’s heroic charge on the fortified gates. How he survived the hail of arrows, only to bravely fling off his helm and dare them a second time—it made for great barroom stories. Few thought much of the son of Amrath prior to the battle, but now he became a hero in the eyes of many. A somewhat lesser known tale gained popularity a few days later as it, too, circulated through the city’s taverns. This outlandish yarn described how two criminals, falsely accused of the king’s murder, had escaped a tortuous death by abducting the prince. The story grew with each telling, and soon these same thieves were said to have gone on a rollicking trip through the countryside with the prince, returning just in time to save the princess from the tower seconds before it collapsed. Some even claimed to have helped save the prince from a roadside execution while others insisted they personally saw the princess and one of the criminals dangling from the side of the castle after the collapse of the tower.

Despite extensive searches, the dwarf whose hand actually killed the king escaped. Alric posted a reward notice offering one hundred gold tenents on every crossroad sign and on the door of every tavern and church in the realm. Patrols rode the length of every road searching barns, storehouses, mills, and even under the spans of bridges, yet he was not found.

Following the week of mourning, work began on repairing the castle. Crews cleared away the debris, and architects estimated at least a year to rebuild the lost tower. Though the falcon flag flew above the castle, the city saw little of Prince Alric. He remained sequestered within the halls of power buried under hundreds of obligations. Count Pickering, acting as a counselor, remained in the castle along with his sons. He assisted the young prince in his efforts to assume his father’s role.