'Lord Bahl seems to manage.'

Tila paused. 'My Lord, to the other nobles you are just a youth – albeit one with potential as a soldier. The divine edicts are clear the Chosen are just that: made fit by the gifts of the Gods, but they

Must prove themselves worthy of those gifts, and they must hold on to power by themselves. Lord Bahl is one of the greatest warriors in the Land. In combat, he is matchless. Quite aside from the fact that our finest regiment is loyal to him to a man, no Farlan alive could beat him in a duel. In the political arena, he's well protected by his Chief Steward. You, on the other hand, are untested in any form of battle, and you're a stranger to the viciousness of polite society.'

'So as my advisor, what would you have me do?' Isak shifted his weight from one foot to the other. As he grew irritated, so he felt the squeeze on his toes become more noticeable.

'Show yourself to be their equal. Dress and act as befitting a man of your station and they will soon be flocking to court your attention. If you are quiet and considered, welcoming but never overly so, then you will have the time you need to learn how to deal with the men of court rank: the dukes, suzerains and counts. They are men of guile who will use the law, force, influence and rumour to gain what they want. To play their game, you must first understand its rules.'

'And then what?'

'And then men will align themselves to you. They won't all be trustworthy, of course, but that will be how you can develop your powerbase grounded in something more than military might. Lord Bahl's intentional rejection of high society has caused him more than a few problems in the past.'

'That sounds like a dangerous opinion to me.'

Tila stared at Isak in alarm before realising he had not meant it as a threat.

‘I -I don't believe so, my Lord. It is well known that Lord Bahl takes little interest in politics or the cult of Nartis, and that this has caused problems in the past.'

Isak stayed silent while Tila's words churned through his head. Yet

more strange, more confusion in his life; more playing the games of other men, something he had yearned to be free of. Damn them, he thought all of a sudden, I am a man of power now and that means I should be able to live my life how I want. Why should I bend to another man’s will? Let the Land now bend to mine. He opened his mouth to say exactly that to Tila, then the words faltered in his throat. She was trying to help, to be a freiend. Right now she was the only one he had here; no need to reject everything she'd said.

'You might be right. I'll have to think about it all,' Isak said. 'In meantime, Lord Bahl told me to find Swordmaster Kerin.'

Tila gave a half-curtsey, bowing her head a fraction too slowly t0 avoid showing the rush of relief that flowed over her face. 'He will be on the training ground, my Lord. This way.'

She led him down the empty corridor towards the Great Hall, where the wide stone stairway brought noises from the rest of Tirah Palace. Isak resolved to investigate the place at a later time. He smiled. The high roofs and hidden eaves of this ancient place would soon welcome him and share their secrets; with no father to curse his absence, Isak had only his own fancy to obey.

Tila pushed open the door to the Great Hall, walked in and cast a pointed look at those within. Then she stepped aside and drew herself up by the door, holding it open for Isak.

'Today I will have your personal chambers prepared. Lord Bahl has given explicit instructions that you sleep in the tower for a few weeks, but chambers in the main wing above us are also to be yours.'

Isak nodded and walked past her into the hall. Only four people were inside, two servants tending to the fire, now standing to atten- tion, and a pair of guardsmen. The younger was still sitting, his bloody leg stretched out on the bench while the other, a grizzled man of a similar age to Carel, had risen to his feet. A length of bandage trailed from his hand.

Isak, not sure what to do, gestured at them to continue what they'd been doing as he strode past them and to the tall double doors that led outside. One was slightly ajar, enough to see daylight, and when he opened it fully, he found himself at the top of a wide stone stairway with no rail that led down to what was obviously a training ground. To either side was a drop of almost ten feet; unsurprisingly, the steps were badly worn in the centre. A mass of grey cloud hung in the sky, resisting the wind's listless attempts to drive it away. Isak could hardly tell where the sun was, so quickly gave up gauging the hour, but guessed he had slept far later than usual.

Off to the left stood the barbican, flanked by two sharp towers. The dark maw of the keep tunnel rose up from the ground, its length sufficient to prevent any light from the other side from showing. Isak turned and looked up at the great bulk of the main wing. The Tower of Semar rose behind it. He felt himself start to topple backwards as

he strained to see to the very top. Against the diffused morning light the huge tower that reached up into the heavens looked elusive and shadowy- Now Isak was inside the palace, he realised just how large the fortress was – and still the tower looked impossibly tall.

The high stone walls encircled a vast tract of land. They were dotted with defensive towers, and there were stables and barracks nestling close in several places. Various plots within the wall were fenced off for livestock and for huge kitchen gardens, but the majority held soldiers. A line of archery butts were taking a beating at the far end, while the wide stretch of ground in between contained drilling foot soldiers and cavalry.

The palace was not built for defence. It had grown over the years, and the ancient wall surrounding the training ground was now a patchwork, first enlarged after an original section around the tower had been destroyed by magic. These days it was so long that it would take thousands to man it. But no one had ever succeeded in laying siege to Tirah Palace because the Farlan Army was a mobile one, manoeuvrable and superbly trained. The horses were drilled as hard as the soldiers, and their rapid response, tight formations and excellent logistical management meant that few enemies ever got the choice of battleground. Organisation of supplies was so crucial for the Farlan Army that the Quartermaster-General outranked even suzerains, in peace time as well as at war.

Isak trotted down the steps and made his way to a nearby groom who was attending to a tall chestnut hunter. The magnificent animal remained patient and still as the groom inspected a foreleg hoof.

Isak took a moment to admire the warhorse, a finer creature than any he'd seen before, before asking, 'Can you tell me where I can find Swordmaster Kerin?'

‘The Swordmaster?' replied the groom without looking up. 'He's busy with the rich boys of the Guard. Wait till he's finished; some of them are knights and they don't like commoners interrupting.'

Isak smiled. Only a day back he'd have obeyed that advice. 'Tell me which on he is anyway. I tkink I outrank a knight so they won't complain for long.’ The man looked up, and dropped the hoof in shock. He quickly recovered himself and dropped to to one knee, muttering apologies. 'My Lord, forgive-‘

‘don‘t worry, just tell me which one is the Swordmaster.'

The man hopped to his feet and pointed to a group of men gathered in a circle thirty yards away. 'Of course, my Lord… He’s over there, training the high-born men. The, ah, the man in blue, with a quarter-staff.'

Isak turned to follow the man's hand. The group was assembled in a half-circle, centred on the man in blue and a mailed figure frozen in mid-lunge. The S\yordmaster was pointing with tiis staff at the position of the other man's leg. He could see why the groom had been dismissive; it Was a fencing class, teaching nobles how to fight with a rapier. The Weapons were next to useless on a battlefield, but duels were common enough among the upper classes and skill with the narrow blade bad brought many men fame.