Heir Apparent - a Summoner FanFic

Home Sweet Home

Poppy eventually came to in the medic's tent, surrounded by the other cadets, a few hours later. All of the youths had scratches and bruises, Lytar had a broken arm and Nadia may or may not have been experiencing a concussion. Bandaged and drugged up as they all were, the first years had an even quieter return journey to Vocans.

The academy came into sight a little before sunset and something was different. It took Dorien a while to realise what it was, and when he did his stomach sank. A flag flew above the central keep, a flag bearing the house sigil of the royal family. Either King Harold or Old King Alfric were waiting for the adepts' arrival.

"Would they have heard about the attack already?" Dorien turned to Nadia, sat beside his in the carriage. She was following his gaze, her own slightly glazed.

"Probably." Dorien responded "They'll have sent a flying demon with a message to Corcillum. But the message would have informed the King that we were all ok."

"Maybe he's come to check on you personally? Maybe he was concerned?"

"Maybe." Dorien muttered unconvinced. The real question was 'which he'? If it was Harold then Dorien would be excited to see his brother, to share all of his experiences over the past few months. He knew Harold would be excited about his growing friendships, especially the developing relationship with  Nadia.

If the visitor was Alfric then this would be a very different encounter. Alfric would demand to know what Dorien had been getting up to. Dorien needed to compose himself, change into clean clothes. He would need to present himself well. As they entered the courtyard, his heart sank to join his stomach. The entire staff of Vocans Academy lined the courtyard. Only Alfric would insist on 'Prince' Dorien being received in such a formal way.

"This is all for you?" Nadia gasped.

"Your Highness," a servant stepped forward and he helped her down from the carriage "His Majesty King Harold, and his father, Old King Alfric, await you in the great hall."

"Thank you, I'll just change and -"

"Apologies, my lord, but they said to... inform you of their... wishes to see you immediately upon your return." The servant flushed, his true message obvious. Dorien had been ordered to present himself as he was to Alfric. Nadia suddenly spun him round to face her, giving him an assessing look, the glaze gone from her eyes. She pulled up his collar, patted some dust and the wrinkles from his jacket and went into tiptoes to brush his hair into place with her fingers.

"You'll do. See you later." She spun him round again and gave him a push towards the main doors. Just one more time she's looked after me. Dorien mused.

He stopped at the doors to the great hall and took a steadying breath. Pushing the doors open he entered to find the hall had been cleared of all furniture but for the Provost's ornate, throne-like chair, which had been placed on the podium at the far end of the great hall. Alfric had set this up so that anyone entering would have to walk the length of the hall to approach him.

Upon that seat sat the Old King, stooped and frail looking, and yet Dorien had to force himself to put one foot in front of the other. Alfric had lost none of his inner strength, none of his mental potency. Where his body failed him, his mind and indomitable will swept away opposition. Harold paced behind the throne-like chair, a concerned expression marring his features.

"Ah, here he is." Alfric exclaimed, sitting a little straighter on his chair. "You're alive then, boy."

Dorien finally reached the front of the room and bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty." He looked up to see Alfric's reproachful gaze, just as he always had when they went through this little charade. "Father." He corrected. Of course, if he'd started with 'Father' there would have been hell to pay. "You received a message from the front lines?" He asked.