Soul Fire

Soul Fire - Chapter 2

"Thank you, sires."

The stable hand bowed low, taking the reins of Asheron and Ganivon.

The light of the setting sun bathed the royal stables through two ranks of enormous, arched windows - illuminating their majesty. The panes were stained with images of Asillia's most glorious victories; while the red, gold, and silver heraldry of Asillia – a knight bearing a gleaming lance astride a rearing horse - welcomed visitors through towering, white doors.

Dathion stopped to admire the work of the artisans. The prominent image was of Asillia's most famous hero, Llanos, pictured where he fell at the Battle of Bitter Triumph. Just like Dathion's father, Llanos had been a king of Asillia. An indomitable warrior, he had wielded the Sword of Llanos, a mighty weapon. At first, it was an artifact with no name. Many races had forged the blade together, with their craftsmanship so perfect and irreplicable that none could find the words to describe it, therefore it had remained nameless for a time. However, due to the monumental achievements and personal sacrifice of Llanos, the sword had been given his name after his death. 

Dathion marveled at the flash of orange-red light gleaming from the sword's base. The diamond in the pommel was positioned to catch the summer sun at sunrise and sunset, with the grand scene stained into the glass on both sides of the stables. Every boy at the palace wielded the Sword of Llanos when they played. Their swords may have been wooden, but they were no less glorious when raised to the heavens by their youthful arms.

Dathion stepped away from the windows to survey the paradise around him. The palace stables were like no other. They were perhaps even cleaner than the princes' chambers. Servants swept the stalls after each feeding and their efforts were subjected to scrutiny by the royal stewards. Each bay was spacious enough for ten horses though only one would ever occupy it. Plaques marked the identity of the occupants with each horse bearing its own crest of arms, along with its name written in the old tongue - a language known to just a handful of scribes. The birth of a horse was a cause for celebration. The moment a foal found its feet, its name was chosen by the Chief Horse Steward or a member of the royal family.

The horses ate only the sweetest fodder. Golden hays and grains, along with succulent sprouts and emerald grasses, arrived fresh to the palace daily. The castle servants often joked that they had the easier job keeping the King's quarters clean. The chefs of the royal kitchens were also known to jest about preparing banquets for the horses, while notable guests waited patiently for the leftovers.

In the northwestern corner were the heated horse baths, where rows of grooming brushes lined the wall, with buckets beneath. Dathion mused that the horses would not tolerate cold water. The Head Steward would be inundated with complaints, after all. Dathion chuckled to himself as they strode between the gates of the keep and through the mustering yard, entering the palace as the day faded to twilight.

When navigating the familiar confusion of the labyrinthine palace halls, Dathion reflected on complaints from visitors to the palace. The organization of the palace interior did not make sense, nor was it meant to. The architecture and design was a deliberate ploy by its Dwarvern builders. In case of attack, warrens of twisting passages, cul-de-sacs, and obfuscating doorways, served an advantage to men familiar with the layout.

However, Dathion and Ellishan had wandered these passages since they could walk. They knew each dead end and every unexpected turn. As they walked, royal guardsmen lowered their eyes, while a group of servants collected around them in entourage. By the time they reached their chambers, baths had been prepared, the inviting steam laced with the scent of perfumed oils wafting from the water. The princes held their arms aloft while servants tugged off their clothes, helped them into their tubs, and then began the unenviable process of cleaning the brothers. Soon, the water assumed a distinctive brown hue, Dathion conceding that the servants more than earned the coin granted by his father.