The royal castle in daylight is, in a word, extravagant. Gothic ghouls which scared me incontinent as a child, now look almost comical with their faces illuminated, but they are no less impressive in their detail.

I always marveled at the size of the house I grew up in. I can’t even begin to imagine living here. It’s more mausoleum than mansion. More museum than manor.

 Could you even walk to breakfast without risking one of the priceless arts lining the hall? Better yet, how does one eat with silverware worth more than a common farmers home?

In hindsight asking a princess questions like that, probably wasn’t wise. But I was a child. I’m sure I’ve been forgiven for at least half of my past actions.

Still, the stares from these guards hulking around the gate indicate a certain disdain. Why did Grave need to rush to work so quickly? I understand he took time off to bring me here but…

I got nothing. I’m headed down the path Skule advised me to avoid. I won’t be anyone’s stepping stone.

Stepping up with a face of determination I approach the death wielding gatekeepers.

“Ah, Aryn Hyde?” A meek voice queries mirroring my approach from the opposite side. “Right on time. Come this way.”

Thank god.

I think I was about to collapse under those averted glares.

The man who met me at the gate appears to be dressed similarly to the researchers who conducted the audit last year.

As if reading my mind, the man pushes his glasses up his nose before grinning. “I was actually with the outfit who audited your father’s frontier towns. We had a huge back-log so it took a bit to analyze each stone but once we got to you, you became the talk of the camp.”

These words honestly shock me. Until he quickly adds a quick caveat.

“Although we only handled the frontier. I’ve heard a bunch of possible candidates like you were found. It should be fascinating. Your generation is blessed with impressive mana pools. Truly a stunning phenomenon. Even your brother had a substantial pool, if not for his milit…” Realizing he was rattling on pointlessly, the man coughs into his hand with blushed cheeks. “Sorry about that, I suppose I am being rude. My name is Lector Baines. My father is a knight, he served with your dad for a couple of years before I was born. I’m good friends with Grave so I feel like I already know your family.”

“Oh? He talks about us much?” I ask with a reasonable level of skepticism barely hidden in my voice.

“Oh yeah, when I drunkenly revealed to him that your name came up during the nominations he was psyched.”

“Nomination?” I pick out from his words like a thief. Of course, the rest of the contents were alarming too, but right now my inquisitiveness was more homed in on the reason for me being summoned here.

The man quickly clams up at my question. It seems he was unaware he let the words slip. Clearly this man shouldn’t be left with any secrets of real importance.

This is seeming increasingly real as time goes by. I feel like any minute now I am going to be told I’m the chosen hero or something.

  Yeah, I bet everyone would love to see that. The hero who can’t lift a quarter length sword. Fat chance.

“Everyone else is this way. I think His Majesty and Her Highness will be there soon. Let’s hurry.”

If not for the bird twittering away in a nearby branch, I bet my gulp would’ve been audible.

Thank god.

Not that my problem has really been solved.

Maybe they won’t remember me.

Lector, noticing my twisting face began to speak before thinking better of it. “…”

I appreciate the effort.

Finally leading me between two tall rows of palisades toward a courtyard neighboring the ballroom, we seem to reach our destination. The last half of the walk became somewhat insufferable. There’s only so much silence a man can take. I thought my family was bad.

The courtyard seems to be set up as a makeshift assembly pavilion. A short stage is erected in the back corner, decorated with various red and black fabrics, conveniently the two buildings hugging the stage cast a refreshing shadow over the warming grounds of the courtyard. Two doors sat heavily guarded a handful of paces behind the stage, the rug, and countless eyes focusing on the point, tells me that the King will probably make his entrance from there.

“Go blend in. I’m outta here.” Lector whispers shoving me forcibly towards the crowd of other candidates.

Before I could even look back for him all the eyes had shifted to me. I must have scuffed my shoe on a blade of grass, interrupting their collective concentrations on this fascinating door.

Back-bone. Back-bone.

Taking a deep breath, I glance around the crowd of eyes. A variety of colors no doubt. No green though. That’s one point for me.

In fact, I actually recognize a few people here. ‘Lil’ Kosgroph’, and Skule’s friend Lirit’s little brother, Wilt Gentry too.

I think I last saw them when I was twelve and the whole family caravanned to the capital to celebrate the new year. I never got along with them on an intellectual level. Kosgroph was lady crazy, he flipped basically every skirt that wasn’t nailed down, or royal. And Wilt is just… it’s like talking to a plant. Which is to say, not unpleasant, but you don’t really get much out of it.

Come to think of it, I don’t even remember ‘Kosgroph’s’ first name. I only know him by my brother and Lirit’s nickname. Does that make me a bad friend? Or can I consider it normal, since I don’t consider them my friends.

I suppose in this situation they are enemies to be beaten. So maybe I have an unconscious advantage.

Whatever.

The rest of the group look like run-of-the-mill nobles and whatnot. Somehow, I feel like I am the worst dressed though. Don’t mind it.

Thinking about it, I believe my family was the only one represented here that was invited to the royal funeral. So that might indicate something. Although it was so many years ago I can’t imagine it matters, and it’s not as if I remember it crystal clear either. But I do remember that us two were the only kids our age.

That’s probably why we became close back then.

I shouldn’t think about that right now. These spotlights are still watching me, waiting for something. I won’t satisfy them though. And I honestly don’t know what they expect from me.

I guess I am being rude though.

“Hey Wilt.”

“Aryn.” Wilt nods with his usual monotony.

See, can’t get anything out of him.

“Y…” Lil’ Kosgroph begins to chirp before the bellowing of trumpets interrupts his word.

It’s impossible to not assume a respectful position when you spot the king in full regalia. And not because of some domineering tyranny he commands, but from his sheer stature alone. The man is a head and half above even the guards who tower above us youngsters. Even the tallest of us, Wilt can’t help but awkwardly peer up at the boulder of a man. I also notice the tan commoner who’d unconsciously been flexing since long before I arrived has finally untensed in sheer shock.

Seeing the man for the first time can do that to you.   

‘A king is supposed to wear purple’, lost tradition’s say. But our king, who thinks purple doesn’t match a warrior, is rarely seen in anything that is not either black, or blood red. Warriors colors he calls them. I’ve even heard he thinks it shames his previous foes to wear something purple.

I can’t imagine why that matters, all things considered, but that’s why he’s a king and I’m… not.

“I’m glad to welcome you here for the coming days.”

Days, huh. What about after?

Not minding my failed telepathic questions, the king continues. “Although even I cannot reveal certain details about the role we are hoping to fill, I hope you will still do your best in these simple trials. Your country, and I are cheering you on.”

Stepping to the side and pointing a hand toward the shadow beside him he grows a proud smile. “Now, finally a few words from our Princess, to the candidates.”

Do I say she hasn’t changed? That wouldn’t be accurate. It’s clearly apparent these past four years were kind to her. But I’ve always considered her the most beautiful person in the world, so in a way, she really hasn’t changed a bit.

Is my mouth agape? It’s not, good.

Another point for me. Suck it losers. That’s a hat-trick.

“Welcome everyone. It’s a pleasure to host you all. I know you will try your best on these trials, but remember not push yourself to hard. It’s important to not overexert yourself.” Glancing across the group of boys her vision eventually lands on me. Her flawless smile broke for a mere second to reveal something else, but it instantaneously reverted back to its heavenly resting state.

For a moment it seemed like she would end the speech there, but I felt like something was missing. Would she not say it this time? I don’t know why I am expecting it after so many years, but it would feel odd if she doesn’t. “Ah… Before I forget. Please, don’t hesitate to just call me Princess Lotil, the stuffy stylistic greetings will get old really quickly if we are going to be staying together these next few days.”

There it is.

“And call him King Wolfbourne. It will be much easier than ‘His Highness this, His Shining Eminence that’. Or you could try ‘King Wolf’ but that probably won’t fly anymore.”

With those final words, a chuckle, and a wink towards the ‘crowd’, the two busy royals stepped from the stage and were ushered back through the doorway they entered from.

Without a moments hesitation another person stepped onto the stage. The other candidates quietly began listening to the bearded man’s explanation of the first trial, but my brain was tied into too many knots to even begin to pay attention.

It seems she hasn’t forgotten anything.