A Dragon's War (Book 1) A Fighting Stance

Chapter 1

Sir Cole Fengrear paced the study floor. Waiting, patiently, for his very late charge. Although that patience was rapidly wearing thin.

It had been arranged for them to go to Lee's final fitting at Morgma's, the only tailor that would put up with the Prince for more then one sitting. Although Morgma was paid handsomely for the work he did for the castle.

Cole could only hope that this would be the last time he would need to go the quaint little shop for quite some time. Both Cole and Lee were not overly fond of the time spent at the shop. Cole didn't see the point to it. Lee had many fine tunics that he could choose from, along with the piles of fitted trousers. But as much as he tried, Cole could never get through to the stubborn Prince. Cole just didn't understand his friend of nineteen years. Never had.

Cole did pity the poor soul who would have to pin the silly pieces of cloth to a constantly moving body that was the Prince. Lee had never been one for standing still, and if he got bored with what was going on, everyone in the room was going to know about it. He acted like a spoiled child when it came to things like that.

Cole made it back around to the door for what seemed like the hundredth time, that same door then burst open, flying straight toward Cole who barely had time to dodge out of the way. It flew past him and hit the stone wall it was hinged to. The thick wood door bounced and came back with a force. Cole caught it with hand just above the outside handle before it could send the twenty-one year old who had opened it back out of the room.

"What are you waiting for Cole? We're late, let's go." The man had the audacity to ask him what he was waiting for!?

Cole let out an exasperated sigh. "Yes, Your Highness." Now wasn't the time to question the Prince.

"Has the coach been prepared?" Lee asked as they walked through the winding castle halls.

"Yes, Your Highness." It had been for the past half hour.

They made their way out of the castle and into the spacious courtyard were the coach and driver waited. The courtyard that, in a week's time, would be bustling with lords and ladies from all over Granlease.

After Cole had seen the Prince to the coach and settled on the plush cushioned seat inside, Cole hopped up with the driver as an extra lookout. Not that they really needed him there, not with Falcon and Pry the two gray drafts that pulled the Prince's coach. They could take the place of any lookout any day. It wasn't like the two beautiful horses cared about the cargo they pulled. They were more concerned about weather they were going to be harmed.

They approached the walled battlements that surrounded the castle, the last line of defence for the strangely beautiful stone structure.

Stopping to wait for the iron clad oak doors to be opened Cole looked to the battlements.

Standing there in all of his glory, bow strung across his torso, quiver of arrows over his shoulder, sword belted at his waist, dagger sheathed at his hip, leaning on the stick in front of him without a care in the world, stood Sir Alfred Silver, beaming at Cole from his place on the battlements as lookout for the gate guards.

Alfred was a master of his craft, seconded only by Cole who had trained along side him.

"Alfred."

"Cole."

"What brings you?" Alfred asked.

"A trip to Morgma's." Alfred made a move to speak, the gleam in his bright green eyes betraying his intent. "Not a word from you! I am in no mood to take your jokes lightly."