Of Dragon Riders and Shadows

Chapter Two - The Beginning

October the 2nd, in the year 584 of the tenth age of Thallium

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"Could've been worse," Rex muttered under his breath as he heaved himself up.

He'd fallen from the wall for reasons that escaped him at the moment. Now on his feet, he dusted his cloak, his tunic, and his trousers. Thankfully, most of the dirt and dust easily came off. There was no need to cause sharp-eyed troublemakers to ask questions. Especially not now.

Thinking of the 'honored guests' taking up residence in the Gray Palace made him snort with disdain. The other heirs of the four lines, staying for the fall and winter months, and causing unwanted disruptions. Used to being the only noble under the age of majority, it was an unpleasant change to have four more children his exact age around.

Life was lonely and hard enough, Rex felt, that being surrounded by examples of true heirs, of wanted sons, who all seemed to know and like their places, was a touch too much. Perhaps he was being bitter.

"DING, DING, DING!"

That was the hourly bell, startling him out of his self-pitying thoughts. The Governor was very open with how he felt about pity, especially that turned against oneself. Rex had not died yet, which meant listening to the Governor, if not the learned men, and trying his best against futility.

Time to go to dinner. Wincing every second step, and trying not to gasp aloud, Rex ran as fast as possible through the side door. Up three flights of stairs, ducking through abandoned passages, and through the doors of his quarters. He only had a limited amount of time to change into 'proper' attire.

Off went his cloak, tunic and trousers, and with gritted teeth he struggled into the more ceremonial clothes. Black with gold embroideries and fastenings, a heavier purple cloak, and new white gloves. His every-day ones too worn, of course.

He looked like a stuffed child playing pretend, but it seemed to be very current fashion – as it had been for centuries. Looking ridiculous was sought-after by the nobility, including the four lines. Unlike those other children, however, Rex did not pull it off gracefully. Of course.

Trying to ignore the soreness, he skidded out of his quarters and made his way to the banquet hall as fast as he could. It would not do for him to be late. The trek was made harder with the stiff ceremonial garments, which only made his panic worse. Thankfully, when he reached the great carved doors, thrown open to allow entrance, no-one was seated yet. Thank be to the gods.

The run turned into a walk, and Rex took deep breaths to calm his racing heart and his fear. Water – I am calm as a lake. He nodded to the steward by the right door, and placed himself behind his chair. As the Crown Prince, he sat to the left of the King, the place denoted by a chair fashioned as a throne. It was a bit excessive, in his opinion, but apparently one wasn't a true ruler unless that fact was evident in every aspect of life and shown to every visiting guest. The good thing – he would not have to carry on that tradition. No self-pitying indeed.

"All hail the King!" the steward belted out, startling Rex. The sheer number of people present for dinner was making him nervous, and nervousness always dulled his instincts. In strode the King, golden crown on white-blond hair, and dressed in royal purple and midnight black. A large sword was strapped to his waist, the only uncovered weapon allowed in the banquet hall. Like Rex, the other guests were standing behind their respective seats, waiting for the most powerful and important person of the realm to sit down.

With a flick of the hand, every-one present bowed or curtsied in unison. The throne chair was drawn back, the King sat, and after he was settled the commotion began. Every-one joined the King at the table, conversation rising from whispers to low voices.