The Mage Wars

Part Three

2 Zenith of the year 13006

Dear Father,

I'm delighted to hear that you, Mother and Liron are doing well. Everyone here is enjoying Vanoraian life. I'd even say it agrees with me. I can tell you more about that in the council meeting in Neso.

Life here suits Kaelen. Even if he's constantly getting "injured." I'm certain he's faking it so he can see Lady Holly even more than he already does. Not that I mind. They are constantly chaperoned by Sir Haedyn and Lord Jude.

Galen and I are doing fantastic. Last week we went to the market and harbour. He was trying to impress me by balancing on one of the posts. And let's just say a "seagull" came flying straight at his head, and on instinct, he stepped backwards into the water. When he came back up, I told him I thought I'd never see the day when Galen was defeated by a child's kite. I laughed for a tangible 5 minutes. Galen was not impressed, but I certainly was.

Lord Zarrak will be pleased to know that he was accepted into the kingship assessment. I do realize it has to be majority rules from the council for one of the eligible lords to become the King of Gaerwn. Crowning Lord Zarrak King would be a light in the dark days that have stood over Gaer—

Neirin groans loudly as he walks into the drawing room. What an effective way to disrupt my letter to Father and Lord Zarrak's "people" watching. A favoured activity of the lord. He set up a telescope on the balcony of the court's drawing room. A perfect place for the activity.

Wasn't Neirin training with Altair today? I thought they were going over footwork with a sword. Or did they decide to do that tomorrow?

I place my quill down and watch Neirin shuffle over to the table. "Cousin, where's your sword?"

"In the harbour," He growls, ploping onto a seat across from me.

"Was training that bad?"

Neirin's blue eyes flash green, then turn back to blue. His slight amount of volatile power pushes against the confines of my cousin's body. The changing of his eye colour is one true reaction to his frustration.

"No need to get aggressive,"

Neirin slams his head against the table. Ouch. That had to hurt, but that might have been the point. My cousin sighs into the table top and sits up. He leans back in his chair with his arms crossed. Oh no.

Neirin tilts his head up to look at the ceiling. "There's been pressure from Father. He wants me to come home so he can groom me for Kingship...From the sound of his letters, he wants to give it to me..sooner rather than in a few hundred years."

"Uncle Carys is only two hundred and fifty-one. He has a long way to go before he hands over the crown," I counter. I made sure of that. One of the first bills I passed was that a king had to rule for at least one hundred years before they could give up the crown.

The kings of Seraphina are young but have faced much hardship in the past twenty-two years. A twenty-year war with their younger brother took a toll on them. Emotionally and physically.

If my uncles gave up their thrones now, it would provide less stability to the kingdoms. And the kingdoms of Seraphina need stability.

"I know,"

"You do not have to leave for Evanath until you are ready to take on the responsibility of heir,"

"I know,"

"And it's not like Sharrn will be named heir in the next fifty years. The boy's main focus is wooing the mages in Vespera,"

"I'm surprised Father let him live with Uncle Avalon,"