The fine bed he sat on was soft, of course. Tor would have expected nothing less of one found in the King’s palace. The dark wooden frame had a high polished sheen, the covers silky and new looking, not worn with age at all. Whatever they used to stuff the mattress just formed under him when he shifted and sure as heck wasn't straw. That he was in it was a bit of a mystery, but no one else seemed to mind, at least they hadn't come to tell him to get out yet.
That it was comfortable didn't mean all that much. It had a lovely brown and gold coverlet, done in silk, like the sheets, which were both wonderful… and a complete waste of resources to his mind. Silk sheets? Expensive and far too easily stained, plus hard to reuse for anything else later. Cotton would have made a lot more sense really. Then when it got too worn it could be turned into children's clothing or even rags and given new life. Personal comfort shouldn't outweigh practicality, should it?
Ursala, his friend, had assured him that she'd make sure no one bothered him while he worked, palace or not. After all, he was building magical devices she wanted, so it was kind of critical that his focus remain as intent and smooth as possible the whole time. Those things led to quality work, which was important.
So far that hadn't happened at all. Not even a little bit. Being left alone that was.
That he'd managed to focus was a bit of a miracle really.
For some crazy reason people kept trying to visit. Tor realized how absurd that was, sure, but it kept happening anyway. Ursala was Countess Thorgood, and even her words hadn't kept them from his chamber door. What did he have to do, hire the King himself to stand guard?
It was insane, of course.
The man was way too busy for that.
With everything going on, why in the world would anyone ever want to sit and chat with him anyway? His friends he could see, looking to share and keep the social connections strong, but they all knew he was working and generally left him alone like they should. Tor had good friends that way. No, it was all the people he didn't know that kept bugging him.
Stupid people.
OK, that was a little unfair, they were just scared and looking for ways to protect themselves from the damage of war, but really, that was what he was doing. Trying to help people be a little safer. Making his little trinkets to help them be secure, and to keep their people and homes that way too.
You'd think that would count for something.
True, Tor was just making copies of magical devices right now, amulets to shield people in battle or from attack, some flying rigs, military grade Not-flyers and the like. All things he'd designed himself and made so many times before that he could do it without even holding the original template in his hands now. It was rote work, and should have been boring, except that he went too deep while doing it to notice that kind of thing anymore.
Pure concentration trumped boredom every time.
Luckily. Otherwise he'd have given all this building up long ago and gone to sea or something more active. He'd only been to the ocean once, but it had been kind of impressive. Sailing on the waves would be an adventure if nothing else.
As he finished the latest batch of one hundred shields, Tor inhaled deeply. Swimming back to consciousness again he oriented himself. First feeling the soft silk under him, smooth and slightly tacky, then where his legs rested against the soft down of the mattress which was as it should be. Perfectly normal. Then he heard them. Voices coming from about ten feet in front of him.
Annoying voices.
Grand… more visitors.
“I simply must have an audience now! War is upon us and I can't leave my County unprepared. Master Tor must simply produce enough shields and weapons for my people as well.”
The voice wasn't familiar, but had that base rumble that Tor associated with all the royal giants.
He tried not to automatically hold it against whoever the man was. Some of his best friends were giants. And, even if they were over-sized and used too many resources to be efficient, they were still good people. Maybe this fellow would be as well. Probably not. Most of them were a little too into themselves, to feel good about.
Tor felt like grunting a little, anger suddenly ripping through him. He “must” make things for this guy? Really? Most people at least asked if he would, even the King and Queen requested politely. But then they got that it worked pretty well, especially since he never actually told any of them no. If they wanted his things all they had to do was ask, but a little bit of courtesy wouldn't hurt. He was putting out twelve hundred field devices per day, by himself, and this man wanted him to do more? The Debri manufacturing house only put out half of that each day and they were the main official supplier of flying rigs and shields for the whole kingdom. The agitation tried to turn into full blown anger as he opened both eyes and found the man that had been speaking, looming in the doorway, a pissy look on his face. In front of him stood a cowed looking boy of about twelve, maybe thirteen, baring the giant entry to the room with his body.
Intimidated or not, the kid didn't move, which almost made Tor want to cheer. It was hard to stand like that, looking up at someone nearly twice your height and not get out of the way. Tor knew the feeling himself. It was like they could trip and crush you at any moment.
The very large man, dressed in incredibly nice blue and black clothing didn't try to push the smaller figure out of the way at least. He just stood arguing to be let in, as the boy rather politely refused him, his brown haired head nodded as he spoke as if trying to influence the man to agree with him through force of will.
It wasn't working.
That could be done, theoretically, but it would take some kind of direct effect, which required a vast amount of focus, as well as knowing what you were doing. Tor couldn't do it. Not yet at least. Or at least he’d never tried it, which wasn’t exactly the same thing.
“Um… My Lord Morris? I was told to not let anyone in to see Master Tor. If you'd like to make an appointment with him, there's a list, you see, and a few people ahead of you, but if you wish I can put a good word in with the Master and try to gain you an earlier time slot… He's working almost non-stop though, making things for the war effort right now, so-” The boy wasn't someone Tor knew really, a page? That seemed likely; the pages were all small boys that he'd noticed, or small girls with short, boy like, haircuts. He hadn't talked to a lot of them yet, which was obviously an oversight on his part if some of them were going to be acting as his personal guardians like this. He'd kind of thought they just ran messages back and forth. Apparently they were expected to do more than that.
Like stare down giants.
The big man looked over at Tor and noticed that his eyes had opened. He tried to walk past the kid only to find that he wouldn't budge at all. Heh. Morris, who was probably a Count given the name, Tor decided, frowned.
“I'm a Count boy! Get out of my way or I'll have you whipped and hung by your thumbs for good measure!” The Count, who must have been nearly six-eight compared to the smaller figures five-two or so, bristled and started to draw his hand back to strike with a backhand. Afraid or not, the small figure in brown didn't move out of the way, even as he cringed from the proffered blow.
“I wouldn't.” A soft voice came from the hallway behind the count, male and deep, a bass rumble even compared to Morris, the feeling that loomed was familiar, even though the bits of skin and hair Tor could make out seemed too dark to be his friend right now.
Prince Alphonse. Or, as Tor knew him, Rolph, his buddy, and roommate from school. In disguise, sort of at least.
“I can almost guarantee you that if you strike a child in his presence Tor won't make anything for you, ever. In fact he'll probably come over and kick your ass right here in the hall. Don't think he can't either. I suppose you could try it and see if I'm lying, but really, getting your name on a list is about the best you can do here right now. I'd just take that and leave quietly, or at least start trying to be a bit more civil with our staff.” It wasn’t his normal tone, but Rolph sounded a little cold. Like ice. It was his half whispering that did it.
A deep chuckle came from someone that Tor couldn't see at all, “Too right Bertie. I'm marrying his sister, and we're close personal friends, he was the one that introduced us even, and I still have to sign up to visit with him myself. No fair jumping the line here.” There was good humor in the voice, which Tor recognized as belonging to Count Toverland Morehouse Thomson. Tovey, a friend of his from school, back when they'd all gone. Forever ago it seemed. Months even. It was nice that the blond giant had come to visit. Now if they could just get rid of this other Count…
Count Morris bristling a little, which Tor understood. Tovey may be the man’s equal in social rank and position, but he was also only about twenty-one years old. Or was it twenty still? Tor was pretty sure he'd missed that birthday, along with his own and Rolph's. Working too much to pay attention. The Prince and he were both eighteen now and had been for a while. Really he needed to get himself caught up on presents pretty soon, or at least send out a card or two. Not to mention all the ones he'd missed with his own family back in Two Bends, and all the people back at his own house. They were his guests after all, in a way, even if they lived and worked there full time. Which made them family, didn't it? Tor hadn't realized how far behind he'd been falling on social obligations.
Hopefully people would cut him a little slack because of the war. The most recent event, County Ward in the southeast declaring war on the rest of the kingdom, kind of had everyone in an uproar. After all, the Wards, the Count and his young, incredibly bitchy, but beautiful, wife, had tried to kill nearly fifty people in the last months with poison. Who knew what else they'd been up to. Tor suspected they were working with the Austran nation, but couldn't really prove that yet.
He couldn't even really prove they were behind the attempt on his own life some four months ago. Less than that? More? Tor didn't remember now. Too much work had shifted his ability to keep track of time at all. He'd have to buy a calendar.
The older Count had salt and pepper colored hair, and a nice looking mustache. Full and manly. Mid-tone dark skin, which was about average. He hadn't lowered his hand yet however, even facing the Prince and heir as well as a fellow Count. Tor stretched a little, grabbed the bundle of shields he'd been building from in front of him on the bed and got up slowly, moving directly over to a piece of paper that sat on the floor along the wall along with several others. The one he wanted for this group of copper disks said “Printer” on it in his own cruddy hand writing. It wasn't visible any more, being buried in field devices, but it was the right stack. The metal of the copper plates made a solid clanking sound as it bumped the other bundles already there. There were several thousand pieces just in the one pile.
Once that was done, Tor stretched again and then turned to look at the noisy and angry seeming man that still filled his doorway, apparently not willing to let the others through or remove himself. Tor noticed that the boy still hadn't cleared the door either, even after being threatened with a beating and torture at the hands of a man that could legally do exactly that. That was pretty tough. If a giant had threatened him like that at twelve, he would have wet himself and considered anything short of dying a win.
Forcing himself to walk smoothly, Tor padded over to the scene in his bare feet and placed a hand gently on the slightly smaller boys shoulder trying to get his attention without startling him. It made solid contact which made Tor wince. Neither of them had a shield on? He'd been working, so his had to be off, which he fixed with a tap to his chest, the intent of the move activating his personal amulet, but his guard? The boy had just never been given one. The magics were a little hard to get most places, for all there were thousands of them sitting along the wall.
A grave oversight if the boy had to go toe to toe with giants on Tor's behalf. Without saying anything, even as everyone else just watching, he moved to the box of devices he kept on the small table next to Holly's bed. He pulled a shield out that already hung on a stout leather thong, which had to be one of the countesses at work, because Tor always just used cheap hemp string himself. Then, looking carefully he grabbed a copper tube that held a force lance field as well. The leather got draped over the kids head from behind, which made him jump, and the tube was pushed into his right hand. The boy grasped it a little weakly not understanding yet. Then, again without saying anything, Tor activated the shield for him reaching over his shoulder to tap the sigil. The shields locked and then forced away from each other, but it didn't hurt, so Tor didn't worry about the effect.
Rolph laughed out loud. It was a soft thing that sounded menacing, but was really just that gentle because of the stab wounds that the Prince had all over his stomach. That hurt, being stabbed like that, and the fact that Rolph was up walking around already, less than two weeks after the attack that had nearly killed them all, was impressive. If anyone had ever thought the price was soft, or a wimp, they needed to rethink their position now, didn't they?
Still, the laugh sounded menacing, which worked pretty well really. It's what Tor would have wanted to do himself if he hadn't mainly been living in a trance state. That tended to wash out his outward emotions a bit. Most of the way, really. Until he got all the way out of the working state he'd seem flat and boring for the most part.
That chuckle could have been on purpose. Rolph, Prince Alphonse, Tor corrected again, was good at judging the moment like that.
“Or,” he added, looking at the Count with a grin. “Tor might just do something like that. Military grade force lance? Please tell me you didn't hand a kid one of those explosives…”
Tor nodded to the boy.
“Force lance and shield. Not instantly lethal, but it should even things up if need be.” Tor gestured to the page to let everyone in. It was obvious that he wasn't going to be getting back to work any time soon. He tried to seem casual about it, but coming out of a working trance to find some overbearing giant threatening his bodyguard or whatever the boy was, kind of made him feel a bit surly. It was a fight to keep that out of his voice, flat affected or not.
“Please, let's sit for a moment and see to things, then I really need to go and exercise for a while, all this sitting has to be balanced out somewhere… and for some reason everyone keeps thinking that beating me without mercy is the way to do it.” It really was the common thought too. Maybe because running wasn't a group activity, but Tor kind of wondered if some of them weren't secretly taking pleasure in it.
There was only one chair, a standard thing for all the palace rooms, which they gave to Count Morris, letting him feel important, so everyone else had to sit on the beds. Tovey and Rolph perched on Holly's, leaving Tor the one he and Ursala shared, he gestured for the boy to sit down next to him, which got a surprised grunt from the older Count, even though the other two accepted it as normal. He was Tor, and that meant he barely noticed class distinctions to their minds. Really he just didn't want the kid to have to stand while everyone else got more comfortable. It didn't seem fair.
“What, is this boy supposed to be in on our meeting as well?” The Count asked sourly. At first Tor didn't know if he meant him or the kid, but then realized that with his new full beard, he didn't look nearly as young any more, probably even close to his own actual age. Tor glanced at the boy, whose head was hanging just a bit. Now that he saw the face and not just the brown mop of hair from the back, he recognized the kid, though he didn't know his name. He'd been the first person to ever act as a meal server for him after all, having brought the plates to the table on his first visit to the palace. That was pretty memorable. He'd also been at the council meeting about a week back, along with a girl that Tor thought was his sister. They looked a lot alike at least.
Tor shrugged.
“Of course. He's an open council member, as well as my personal assistant and bodyguard. As he told you, he's in charge of arranging all appointments for me and helping to schedule needed work. He needs to be here if you want to schedule anything doesn't he? I don't even know where the list is being kept myself, which means he's kind of in charge of me. Now, you seem to have pressing business, so, why don't we get to it?” Tor fought to keep his voice polite and light and thought he might have made slightly sleepy sounding at least.
For the palace this was practically calling the Count out, for all it lacked social grace. Then again, the man had threatened to hit someone that was obviously just doing their job. The King himself wouldn't have done that, nor any other member of the royal family. For this guy to come into the palace and think it was OK to do that…
Oddly, Count Morris ignored the lack of courtesy and started right in on his spiel, one that was a lot more pleading suddenly that the Prince of the realm and a fellow Count were watching. Funny how that worked, Tor thought. The man sat straight and cleared his throat, pulling at his deep blue velvet tunic to straighten it.
“It's come to our attention that Master Tor is making field devices for several County’s forces now, since the declaration of hostilities between County Ward and the Kingdom of Noram. My County of Morris borders Ward on the west and sits as guard to the Capital itself. I was hoping that I'd be allowed to purchase some shields, weapons and flying gear for my own forces, since we may be expected to act in the common defense…”
It was a good argument, Tor realized, and done in a way that he absolutely hated, sounding as if the man was talking about him like he wasn't there, even as he looked at him. The Count seemed to be giving most of his attention to Rolph, which made sense, then to Tovey, only making casual glances at Tor at all. Right, because Tor was just a device to him, a thing to make what he wanted, not a real person at all.
Really he was paying slightly more attention to the kid next to him than Tor himself. At first it didn't make sense, until Tor saw that the boy had casually been pointing the force lance at the Count the whole time, ready to put him through the wall if the man attacked. Heh. Well, Tor had named him as a bodyguard, hadn't he? It probably also explained why the guy wasn't talking directly to him or making much eye contact. He didn't want to seem hostile…
That seemed like a good plan actually, given everything. Apparently the Count picked up on the fact that the boy hadn't backed down even when he didn't have a weapon or shield. Now that he did, the kid was probably nearly the man’s equal in a fight, even if he was untrained. There was a real reason everyone wanted shields for their combat troops. It could make a single man worth about ten in a fight. More if it was a very high end shield. What the boy next to him wore was that. In fact it was better than what the elite military had right now. The weapon in his hand was too.
Rolph nodded gently, “I see. Well, on the surface that sounds reasonable, but there are limited work hours in a day, and expenses to be met. Plus Sir Torrence has prior obligations to meet. If he were to stress himself on your behalf, and it is a real stress by the way, not to be taken lightly, enough so, that at the current rate a royal edict has already been proposed to prevent him from working any harder and requiring a vacation — not a joke by the way Tor, mom's about ready to storm the room and take you out by force you know — what can you offer for his time and efforts?”
Count Morris may have been overbearing, entitled and grumpy, but he'd come to deal, even if it meant doing so with a common looking little man sitting barefoot on a bed. The man offered going rate for all devices provided, and a small section of land that he assured was a good fertile farm in a valley bottom, that could be tenanted with Tor's people. Conveniently enough it was a strip that directly bordered County Ward. All goods raised there would go to him untaxed for twenty years and the man suggested openly that he had a daughter and some young nieces that Tor could sleep with if he wished. Or nephews if he'd rather.
That part was said with a smarmy eye and a smirk towards the boy, who was most likely underage for such things. It wasn't judging, just calculating and creepy the way it was said. Tor was going to hit the man for even making the suggestion, an irrational and stupid impulse since hitting a Count would not go over well, but the man flew backwards out of his chair first, which was helpful of him. It save Tor from having to do it. The boy next to him looked down at his hand, shocked.
Rolph laughed.
“I think that answers the question about your nephews or young nieces rather succinctly. Tor, what say you as to the rest?”
As the Count fought his way to his feet, looking angry and like he was going to try and attack someone, Tor grinned and spoke quickly.
“Well… I can offer two thousand units next month, or… given the delicate nature of the location, I may be able to sacrifice some sleep and get things done faster, but I can't promise anything right now. I have a trip to Afrak coming soon as one of my obligations… It predates the war, but is an important project to them. So important that I've been named the Ambassador even. That won't stop me from working totally, but will slow things down. Is that all right?”
The man stopped, fists clenched, glaring at the boy in brown who still aimed the force lance his way, looking more than a little scared. Tor got that. A sitting Count could have a commoner put to death for an attack like that, even if it was hilarious. Actually, the most likely occurrence for such a thing would be death. Counts could be touchy like that. It helped right now that everyone else was pretending that it didn't matter though. That it wasn’t a matter of honor or pride as much as happenstance. Suddenly, unexpectedly, the older man snorted a sound that wasn't amused but didn't seem overly angry either.
“I apologize if my offer gave offense sir, none was intended.” He bowed to the boy, just a bit, and smiled tightly, then turned to Tor slightly. “Of course sooner is better, but since no one in the world could be expected to deliver such devices in four times that, I guess I can't complain too much, can I? Thank you. Again, forgive me for any… disruption to your day. I've been a little stressed as you might imagine. The Wards aren't exactly friends of mine right now. It's a shame really, we've always gotten along well enough in the past. I really don't know what Marvin is thinking. Declaring war… Preposterous.”
Tor stood and almost put out his hand to shake, but caught himself. In the Capital it was all about bowing. Right. He made a low bow, as appropriate to his old station, forgetting for a moment that he was a Knight now, A Countier too. Not just a student from the country. Everyone else stood and there were bows all around, with the kid making an effort to get lower than Tor was. Oops. Well, at least his new guard or whatever knew the correct protocol. Tor still had to think about it himself, but then he hadn't grown up with it.
The Prince smiled politely, even though the bowing had obviously hurt and walked the older man to the door, which the boy shut quickly behind him, turning around with wide eyes. Rolph pointed at him, a single finger accusing without a word, making the kid cringe again and look down.
“Ger, what are you trying to do, start a war? Get yourself killed? I admit, it was funny as all hell, but Count Morris isn't exactly known for his sense of humor. That he didn't call you out… Well, I guess he wouldn't have would he? As a commoner you'd just be put to death, he doesn't know about your family ties. Since I know Tor, that means that he'd have probably challenged him to a duel first, and won, which means the Morris heirs would probably go to war with him and really, we don't need that right now, it would just be a mess all around, so please, in the future, for the good of the kingdom and the war effort I must ask you to hold off on attacking anyone unless you really have to, all right?” The tone was half scolding, half fairly high humor, but the boy nodded as if given a reprieve from death.
Smiling Tovey pointed at Tor, gesturing with his whole hand really, the polite way of addressing an equal, or even a near equal, so really nice of the guy all things considered, and told him that they'd actually come to see that he got his daily exercise, which was to be weapons practice in the salle with Countess Printer and several others. Whatever a salle was. Nodding Tor went to find his socks and shoes. Ger shifted uneasily.
Right, what to do with him?
“Ger is it? What's your full name, if that's not it I mean…” Tor didn't want the kid to be uneasy if that was all the name he had. Not everyone used last names even in the Capital. Ger was a fine name. Certainly as good as Tor. Better probably, since more people had it, or something similar.
“Gerald Negev Cannor, Master Tor sir.” The boy sounded humble and could be barely heard suddenly.
“Tor. Not Master Tor. Especially if we're going to be working together. Were too close in age for anything like that. Do you have exercise clothes around? I guess for the time being you should just go to my practices with me, unless you have some of your own to go to? I don't know… what kind of training have you had?”
As a palace serving boy, grandson of Laura the head cook that had died in the attack at the Queen’s birthday it turned out, and otherwise an orphan, he knew how to read and write and do sums, as well as cook and bake a little as well as palace protocol. No one had ever taught the boy to fight, even though he clearly had the reflexes for it. An oversight for sure. So really, about where Tor had been at the same age. Only bigger, stronger, and made of sterner stuff all around. Nodding he suggested that Ger go and do all the exercises with them that day, until proper training could be set up. Tovey agreed with him at least, though Rolph wrinkled his nose.
“Even the little kids can do more than I can right now, it's embarrassing.” It was clear that the Prince was kidding, at least mainly, but Ger ducked his head again, as if ashamed that his abilities might outstrip the wounded royal.
It took half an hour for everyone to show up in the salle, which turned out just to be a large open room with vaulted ceilings, sanded wooden floors that were well worn instead of polished, and high windows to let in natural light. Tor wondered if they'd been constructed that high on purpose so that when his practice weapons flew out of his hand they wouldn't shatter as easily, being hard to hit way up there. It made sense, though how the builders had anticipated his coming Tor didn't know.
To his surprise half the people in the room were the royal family. All of them. Even the King had turned out, wearing a set of worn black canvas exercise clothes. Next to him the Queen wore a white outfit of similar material. They both looked good, Tor realized, fit. Already working with Holly was Karina, the middle child and second in line to the throne, both with shining saber and dagger combinations, fighting as if their lives depended on it.
The sword work was nearly as good as Tor had ever seen.
Countess Printer was what he'd always referred to as a “combat giant” back in school. Mainly royal kids that were trained particularly for war. Strong fighters that were groomed for handling their families’ petty squabbles, or on very rare occasions, attacks from other lands on Noram. Holly had been more muscular in school, but then she'd recently been poisoned nearly to death, which he knew from personal experience could cause muscles to waste away and weight to be lost fast. That she came at the exercise with such skill and ferocity only made sense. Indeed, now that he thought about it, he could recall the woman having beaten him around the exercise yard at school a few times before she graduated. It had been a popular sport at school, his small size and tendency to scurry away rapidly being considered a bit of a challenge.
What surprised him was that Karina, who he'd always thought of as a little vain and shallow, a little too concerned with what other people thought of her and a little prissy, was giving at least as good as she was getting, even though Holly was nearly six inches taller than she was. It was impressive to say the least. If Tor had been faced with the woman, he would have run away himself. Either woman, he realized.
“Ger, watch them. Try to pick up what you can until I call you over for exercises all right?” He pointed at the two women broadly, the motion catching the Queen’s attention, though she didn't move, going back to watching the action herself.
That made sense, because when they ended a few minutes later she moved out to work against Holly and Karina herself, taking on both of them at once. If either of the younger women was holding back, it wasn't readily apparent at all. In fact, if anything it looked like they were both trying even harder, hacking and slashing from both sides, their four blades moving to attack and being pushed aside over and again. Eventually the Queen lost, but it took nearly ten minutes and was close. As she “killed” her daughter, Holly moved in and got her in the back, tapping her lightly.
When that was done Tor loosened up, swinging around in the familiar exercises, Ger joining him, trying to copy what he did watching with careful side long glances. The King started working with Tovey as they limbered and stretched. It was a lot more even a match-up than he'd have thought, the King being huge, over eight foot tall, nearly a foot larger than Tovey, but the Count having just a little more actual skill with a blade. The shining silver swords shone and gleamed as they danced, singing out a familiar tune. If the women had been impressive, this display was a little awe inspiring. Intellectually Tor knew he'd seen better fighting. Kolb fairly regularly handed Tovey his behind pretty easily for instance. Then again, Sir Martin Kolbrin, Kolb to his friends and students, had been the weapons instructor at the Lairdgren School for a reason. But in this moment, these giants, feet tapping a staccato rhythm on the gray stone of the floor, looked almost untouchable.
When they finished Rolph pointed at the King and Tovey, both a little out of breath. The King raised his eyebrows.
“Do you think this much activity would be wise just yet? Your wounds…”
“No, not me, that would be silly, I'd end up bleeding all over the floor and it looks freshly cleaned. The boy that washes them would be most put out, and rightly so, probably come and take his own turn thrashing me too. No, you two against my champion. Tor, if you'd be so good as to dispatch these ruffians?” Everyone laughed, including Tor, but he went out onto the floor clutching his borrowed practice blades gamely enough. They were short compared to what everyone else had of course, and he wondered for a second if he'd picked up Varley's old set, since the youngest royal had only started to shoot up in the last six months, having been closer to his own height before that.
Since they were playing the part of ruffians, the King and the Count didn't bother saluting or letting him actually get out onto the floor. Torrance had to suppress the urge to simply run away, that being what he'd really been trained to do at school and dove for the floor instead, rolling with blades held out carefully, directly towards the King. With his right hand blade, the longer saber, only about two and a half feet, he “sliced” the counts leg off at just below the knee and then stabbed him several times in the stomach as fast as he could, then came to his feet running fast before the King could use the giant blade in his hand.
Laughing, Tor ducked and spun in place just past Tovey, hitting first the back of his left leg then making a “X” pattern over his lower back and placing a slightly awkward sword point into his heart from behind. Sabers didn't stab well he knew, so he repeated the motion several times, trying to keep the large Count between the even larger King and him. Then Tor jumped to the side and threw his practice dagger at the King, since he was the only opponent left, Tovey having been “killed” at least twice in that last exchange. The hilt of the dagger hit the King’s leg, of course. If the point had hit Tor would have passed out, most likely. His ability to throw a knife was virtually non-existent after all. That didn't matter. King Richard and his reactions were what counted. He danced back first, a natural reflex to a knife being thrown at you, even a practice one, and then tried to capitalize on it having missed by plunging forward fast. As expected.
Tor threw himself flat to the floor and cut the giant monarchs left foot off as he stepped onto it. At least it would have done that if he had a real sword and a strong enough arm. On the backstroke he rose up and stabbed the King in the groin, indicating it without contact, then the stomach twice before having to roll out of the way of the massive blade that tried to bi-sect him.
Dancing to his feet, Tor ran around the giant monarch, making a point of staying out of range the whole time. At the end of the first one and a quarter circles, just as the large man tried to shift his feet again, Tor moved in and hit him in the legs twice more. If they had armor on it wouldn't have counted most likely, so Tor reset, ran away some more for a while and tried again. Then again. The King was so freaking tall that he had to finally jump through the air to score a solid blow to the side of the neck with the longer blade he had left. Hardly fair really, but nature was what it was.
No one said anything for a few moments.
Finally Rolph cleared his throat, “My champion two, noble ner'do-wells, zero.” His voice was slightly smug, considering the two giants had obviously just let Tor win. It had to be that, didn't it? After all, they were so huge and very good. Well, Tor decided it was kind of them not to humble him overly. They'd have to work harder with him though, so that he didn't get all soft.
That led to him having to work against everyone else in turn, with the Queen and Princess Veronica being the hardest for him. The Queen because she was so good. Wickedly so, and faster than she'd shown working against her daughter and the Countess, apparently not feeling a need to hold back against the likes of him. Tor won, but just barely. Again he wondered if she'd let him win, taking mercy on him? She was always very kind to him, and may have just not wanted to hurt his feelings, not that Tor would be bothered by something like that. A lot of girls had beaten him up in combat practice. He was kind of used to it by now.
Varley was hard because he couldn't bring himself to hit her. She was… Well, bad would have been unkind to say, but certainly the youngest Princess could use some more practice. She did manage to beat him though, by pretending to cry, kissing him when he came to make sure she wasn't hurt. Then stabbing him with a dagger she had hidden in the folds of her green canvas exercise outfit.
“Argh! Taken in by a pretty face and guile, our hero and champion goes down…” Rolph roared with good humor. Tor chuckled too. It was a fair move, so it counted as a clean kill. No one said you had to use only physical skill in a fight. If that were the case he'd have lost almost all of them he'd ever been in, instead of simply… managing them, like he had.
Ger sat, his eyes wide the whole time. Finally the King and Queen came over and, smiling, asked if the boy was his new Squire. The tone was serious even, so Tor shook his head first, then gave them a half nod as if the idea wasn't too farfetched. It wasn’t really, was it?
“Nope. First he needs some training and practice, and then, if no one objects, I think he should go to Lairdgren if possible. The school there's still open right?” The King nodded, his face suddenly pensive. Tor glanced at the boy and nodded.
“He has a sister too, so we need to make arrangements for her as well. I'll cover that and any training they need until then, school and lessons and all that…” Tor winced hard and blushed, looking at Ger, realizing what he'd just done. He'd just let the words pop out without considering them.
“Sorry Ger! I don't even know if you or your sister have other plans or anything and I was talking about you like you weren't right here. I apologize. Um, do you have any other plans?” It occurred to Tor that he was not just being pushy, but didn't even know the sisters name. What kind of person did that? He blushed at his own heavy handedness.
Ger raised his head proudly.
“We don't have positions yet sir, but we can work, we don't need charity.” The young man’s voice held more dignity than Tor thought he could muster himself, so he nodded.
“Right. I knew that. I've seen you do it, so that isn’t in question at all. I guess what I'm saying is that I have some positions available at my house. There's a lot of training needed, so, you know, it's more like an apprenticeship than a job to start with, and you'd both need schooling to do the whole thing. Even if you become squires you'll want that education. You do get paid a little, as well as room, board and tuition. We need to talk to your sister too, maybe…” Tor looked at the Queen. “Connie, I know you're busy, but would you help me with that? I don't want anyone to think… that I'm taking advantage of these two.” Tor remembered how Count Morris had looked at Ger as if the kid was something other than his assistant. The girl was even the right gender for him, if too young. Cute too, so people could take his interest the wrong way really easily.
Connie nodded regally and Rich smiled hugely at Tor, clapping him on the shoulder suddenly.
“Just let me know when the Squireship papers need to be signed and I'll start working up the signatures. That can take some time you know. Counts get all prickly about it, as if it was real work to sign their names.”
From behind Tor laughter came as Rolph told them all how Ger had defended his new bosses honor by knocking Count Morris on his behind with a force lance. The boy ducked his head in shame but had to fight to keep a smile off his face at the same time.
“Humph.” Holly said, her eyes noticing that the kid was there finally. “Well if Tor tells me you'll do, when the time comes you've got my imprint. Morris is a stick in the mud at the best of times. Still, he does hold a key position strategically, so outfitting him isn't a horrible plan, and he's loyal, I'll say that for the man.” Her words were considering, but her tone stayed sad and dark the whole time. She still missed her husband, Tor could tell. It may have been an arranged marriage, but she took it seriously enough to make Tor both a little envious and scared. In the end, he suspected that Holly Printer would destroy the world to kill the Wards, if that's what it took. Tor couldn't belittle the feeling, but also couldn't forget that he lived in the world himself, along with everyone he cared for.
Tovey allowed as how he could possibly also add his signature if he got a good recommendation from Tor as well. Rolph clapped the boy on the back and smiled.
“There you go Ger. Now we just find one more and you can start on your path to Knighthood! Or, knowing Tor, probably any other career you want. It's a good situation to go into. At Wilderness Station you can probably get your own house even, though you might have to make it. Lots to do there now. Tor even has his own whorehouse, though you're a little young for that yet.”
Ger blanched and looked at Tor nervously. Varley got it first, and explained.
“Don't worry Ger! Tor won't put you or Gemma to work there. Alphie just meant that you could use their services, when you got a little older, that's all. Well, unless you want to work there, then that would be all right I guess…” She teased a bit, getting knowing nods from the other royals. Tor snorted.
“Not until they're at least fifteen though, for working there at least and then only on school breaks. If you want to spend your money that way, that's up to you, or I suppose you could trade work with some of the women if you wanted, in exchange… But as to working there, I have different plans. Those being almost anything else you want to do that doesn't make my little country bred mind spin in circles. We'll get with Connie and your sister later and work out what you two actually might like to try.”
And, Tor decided, see that any relatives they had might be informed and kept in the loop. For all he knew some aunt or uncle would want them to go into the family business. The kids seemed smart enough from what he'd seen after all. Which wasn't, admittedly, very much. The Queen announced that everyone should present themselves at dinner to see to it. Connie like to do that, set up dinner meetings. It gave her an excuse to have extra ceremony or something. That, entertaining and such, was really her job as Queen, it seemed unimportant at first, but once you realized how much everything in the kingdom hinged on people not having ruffled feathers and feeling like they were important… well, it was probably as crucial as anything the King did, if in a very different way.
That gave them several hours, which for Tor meant just enough time to wash up and put out two hundred more devices, shields and flying rigs this time, just to keep things slightly fresh. Doing only one kind of thing without stopping would eventually wear on his own field, which couldn't work, because he was a person, not a shield. Do that too often and it would just kill you. It was covered on the second day of school even. It wasn't really that dangerous, but it was something to keep in mind pushing like he was.
Ger wanted to stand guard at the door, but Tor sent him to look up his sister as soon as Holly and Ursala came in, since they could keep the wolves at bay he assured the boy, both being Countesses and all that. Ger looked at Holly and, obviously remembering her practice earlier, nodded. Not a lot would be coming through her, Tor agreed.
Ursala, tall and blond, leaner now than he'd ever seen her, though not skinny at all, let her eyes follow Ger as he bowed himself out of the room in best servant fashion.
“Cute kid. Are we assigned a page then finally?”
“No, that’s Tor's new ward and possibly future Squire. There's a girl too. Orphans, the last of their immediate family being killed by the Austran attack. The cook that led the servants against that Larval assassin? Anyway, we just need to get your signature and the kids can both be squires, we already have Thomson, which will make their lives a lot easier I dare say. No orphanage for them. Already offered surety towards any schooling they want by Master Tor here. Plus the kid knocked around Count Morris earlier. Tried to imply Tor and he were lovers. Turned out to be a mistake. If he's going to do things like that the boy is going to need to be at least a Squire. Really, we should get with the King on that tonight, in case Morris gets in a snit over what happened earlier. We don't need a potential fighter like him executed just to keep the likes of Morris happy. Not with a war on.”
For some reason all that earned him a warm hug from Ursala. And a kiss. Then a little more than that, until Holly started to chuckle darkly.
“Not to break up your fun, but we should be getting ready for dinner, we're all supposed to be present tonight to discuss this and see what the kids want to do. You could probably dodge it of course, but since they're like as not going to be your side-range step kids, after a fashion, I'd think you'd want to be there.”
With a soft smile Ursala moved to get ready, helping Holly as needed and vice versa. Normally they'd have dedicated palace servants, if they didn't have their own, but the place was so crowded that they'd opted to do without. It would leave someone to attend to older people that needed the help more than they did. Holly was used to field conditions she'd said, and Ursala was too, in a way, living in a little hut with Tor and the others. They didn't really have servants at all. Just a tiny prostitute that brought their meals in sometimes.
Tor was already more or less dressed, except for shoes, so he made one last batch of shields. Flying rigs may be neat, but fighting forces only needed so many flying warriors it seemed. All of the military wanted shields though. That and lights. He'd have to start on those too again soon, and weapons. Really he was waiting on that last part though, until he could talk with the King, and maybe Rolph, alone about it. The Prince was, of course, vital to the war effort. If anything should happen to the King, he was in charge and no one wanted a six month training period for him to get up to speed while Austra hammered the kingdom back to the cataclysm. They hadn't really attacked in force yet, but they had some boats off the coast harrying fishing vessels at times. Mainly name calling so far for some reason. They'd take advantage of a vulnerability though.
Who wouldn't?
Besides, Rolph was smart, it would be stupid not to get his advice.
At dinner a lot more people showed up than he'd expected. For some reason half of them were people from his house, well, Wildlands Station, which was a lot more than a single dwelling now, but he hadn't known they'd be coming for dinner. For that matter, given the plain and practical dress that most of them wore, it didn't look like they'd known they were coming either.
It fell to Rolph to make the introductions, because, like Tor, he knew everyone at the table by name and was the highest ranked person that did, so the job was his by tradition.
“So, introductions! This is an exciting group of people all around, first let’s do the boring people, and by that I mean the ones that everyone probably knows, not that they’re any less than interesting. At the top of the table we have the King, Richard Cordes, next to him his lovely wife, my mother, Queen Constance Cordes, next to her is Tor, whom I think everyone here knows? No? Right, Gemma you haven't officially met yet. Then let me formally introduce Sir Torrence Baker, Countier four Lairdgren and probably one of the best people I've ever met. In case the title got missed by some, I'm Alphonse Cordes, in disguise right now, but they still let me be Prince for some reason, as well as a pin cushion in my spare time. Not a hobby I recommend taking up.
“Princess Veronica the fair is across from Gerald Cannor next to him his twin sister Gemma who's across from my lovely sister Princess Karina the-”
Trice snorted.
“Princess Karina quick cut.” She waived the stub of her left arm, gone at just below the elbow around the tan bandages standing out from her rather stark black clothes. Her voice was playful at least, which earned her a stuck out tongue from Karina.
Good.
Trice wasn't someone that could be coddled. She was tough as nails most of the time and willing to do anything to get a job done, but if you let her cry or feel sorry for herself she could go on for hours. Loudly. Better to not let her start. Once again Karina impressed Tor without knowing she did it. Varley was clearly a genius, but Karina had her moments of insight too.
Rolph glared at Trice a little.
“Really Trice, if you’re not going to be grateful to her, you should at least be afraid. Think about it.” He didn't smile about the words, but Tor did. It was a good point. Tor wouldn't have been able to cut her arm off like that. He would have frozen up… and let his friend die because of it.
“Anyway, next to Princess quick cut is Sir Martin Kolbrin, Knight of the realm,
Baron and a wickedly good weapons master, across from him Mercy Morgan, my aunt and Baroness Thorgood, then her husband Duke Eric Morgan. Across from him is Countess Ursala Thorgood, my good friend and next to her is Major Godfrey head of the military's focus stone manufacturing unit as well as co-inventor of the people moving transports along with Tor.
“Then we have the lovely Ducherina Patricia Morgan, who, before you take her out Sorlee, didn't actually stab Tor if I have that right…”
From the end of the table a girl in a black military style uniform looked down the table, her eyes going huge. “Lissa? I thought… they all said you hurt Master Tor then run off… I don't…”
Tor shrugged.
“I'll fill you in later, alright Sorlee? It was different than it seemed, a trick of sorts, but from now on just call her Trice or Patricia instead of Lissa. If anyone asks you, they're not the same person.”
The girl nodded, looking more than a little troubled.
“That leads us to Countess Holly Printer, accomplished military strategist and planner and next to her, last, but by no means least, we have Miss Sorlee Farmer who among other notable things is the first civilian transport pilot and instructor.”
The conversation didn't start until after dinner of course, that being the tradition. From what Tor could tell it had to do with the fact that, more often than not, by the end of those discussions people were screaming at one another and possibly fighting. If the nobles wanted to eat they needed to make sure they did it early. Being giants, they liked to eat, so it wasn't a trivial point.
For once the discussion actually went pretty smoothly. Almost too smoothly. Tor didn't trust it. These things always went wrong one way or another.
When asked what they wanted to do, both kids simply said that going with Master Tor sounded like their best option. No begging to stay in the palace, which Tor would have understood them going for, if that's what they wanted, since it had been their home for years. They didn't even ask what they'd be doing really, though Gemma sounded favorable about learning to be a transport pilot and Ger perked up when it was mentioned that they'd both be offered training in how to fight. The only obstacle really seemed to be their aunt, who was the Countess of Cannor. Tor had even met her once.
The memory came flooding back. He'd been a little worked up himself at about that time, but the woman hadn't seemed… robust. A bit frail truth be told, older, and loony as you could get without actually talking to yourself in public. At the time he remembered being afraid the woman would demand that the kingdom help her defend her borders against imaginary threats. Dragons… or pixies maybe.
The King nodded when Tor looked at him, Rolph did the same thing with a sigh.
“Right, so, since these children are her heirs, we can't really keep them from her if she demands them, but by that same token, we can't just pack them off to her either. She's a dear friend and loyal subject, but not exactly mother material bless her.” The King spoke gently, voice low and not un-warm, but a little troubled.
From down at the end of the table Sorlee spoke up, her voice soft and accent still a little thick, but easily understandable to everyone now, which wasn't the case even two months before.
“Sir, if it pleases you… I don't understand… shouldn't the children be with their Aunt? She's a Countess, so shouldn't that be a good home for them? Master Tor's a good man and would make a wonderful father to them, even if he's young, but this Countess is their family…”
A slight clatter came from the back of the room.
“Ah, don't let it concern you overly girl, they're just all convinced I'm insane, that's all.” Everyone swung towards the voice, a woman stood in the doorway, older looking than anyone in the room, but dressed as she was in a light brown military style outfit, her hair cropped short, like the Queen, Trice and Princess Varley, she looked hard and in shape, and while a little wild eyed, she didn't seem half as mad as the last time.
“I haven't given anyone a reason to think otherwise for a long time, so it's only natural, don't you think?” The woman looked at Sorlee as if expecting an answer, so the girl nodded honestly.
“Yes my lady… If you act the loon, people will assume you are. The question is then, are you?” This got a shocked silence from the room. The country girl was honest and gentle of spirit, and it was a fair question, meant with no ill will. In Forest Far it would have just been polite, giving the woman a chance to show that her mind was in balance and that she understood what the situation was. Here it was like accusing the woman of eating babies.
Instead of outrage, the Countess just chuckled.
“How would I know? Crazy people almost always think their sane, don't they? But is thinking you’re not insane a sign that you've lost it? I can only hope not. Sorry I'm late. I came as soon as I heard about Laura, rest her soul. We traveled non-stop or as close to it as we could manage without killing any horses. Now, from what I walked in on, it seems the plan is to secret the kids off somewhere without mentioning it to me? Good plan I suppose, but since I'm here anyway why don't we go over it just to keep the record straight?”
The woman, Mary, Tor was informed after a few minutes of speech by the King and Queen, listened carefully, tilting her head to the side several times in a fashion that seemed birdlike, as if she was listening to something no one else heard. Her words focused on the topic though, a lot more clearly than the last time they'd met, when she spoke of flowers and the fish off her coastline and how they were faring. Really, if Tor remembered it all correctly, she spoke of the fish as if they were personal friends. Same with the flowers come to think of it.
Finally she nodded.
“Well, I'm here now, so no need to pack the children off with strangers. We'll make arrangements for them to come with me then. Family comes first, after all.” It was said with a definitive air, as if nothing else needed to be said on the matter. That was something Tor understood. After all, family did come first. Always.
That kind of seemed to be that, until Holly spoke softly at the end of the table, her voice slightly amused.
“Countess Cannor… are you suggesting that you’re going to steal away Master Tor's new squires away from him? I assure you he's a man of good character and from what I've heard the highest moral standards. You've the word of myself and I believe the entire royal family as well as several of your own peers.” She stood and gestured at Count Thomson and Ursala, a small and tired smile on her face. “Plus, for all that he's short, he's a Countier himself. Countier four, Lairdgren, I believe. So it's not like the children are going off to live as woodsmen in the deep forest.”
Mary Cannor gasped after a second and stared directly at Tor. Had she not realized who he was? They'd met, kind of, once. He didn't have a beard then though, which he knew made him look a lot different. Without it he looked a medium old fourteen, tops. Younger to some of the over tall giants, since their own kids were always so tall. Being short meant young to them. Closer to Ger's age than his own eighteen. For some reason the older Countess started shaking and pointed a bony finger at him.
“Lies.” She said softly. “There is no heir to Lairdgren. Burks only child in line for it died years ago. I should know. After all, Laurali was my daughter too.”
Tor blinked and stared at the crazy old woman for a second. After a bit the woman corrected herself.
“Well, step-daughter, her own mother died during childbirth, but still, she was as close to being my own flesh as possible. When that Austran killed her… Well, that's part of why I turned out the whole of County Cannor's forces for the war. Laurali will not go unavenged!”
Looking down at the lovely white linen table cloth Tor felt the blood rush from his face. He hadn't known of course, about any of this. Burks had sent his mother into hiding and never even told Mary, who considered herself true family, that she was alive at all? Not even after the whole thing had been uncovered nearly a year before? Gods. So now Tor had to explain it all to her?
Well, that was fair.
Just like his mother too, dumping all the unpleasant tasks on a boy. Taking a deep breath he decided to do just that, since Mary Cannor deserved to know as much as anyone in the world, and spoke uninterrupted for nearly five minutes, the woman shaking and finally tears coming down her face. When he ended the story he expected her to storm out, probably taking the kids with her.
Who could blame her? Insane or not, and Tor was starting to think she was closer to high strung than crazy, someone should have told her. It also shouldn't have had to be him. Seriously, he was so going to have to talk to his mother about it. Count Lairdgren too. Him first probably. You didn't do things like that to people!
Instead of going wild and trying to hit him or even screaming, though he was braced for it, the woman walked around the table slowly, her steps making just the faintest clicks on the hard marble under her leather soles. When she got to him the woman swallowed and slowly, almost as if wary herself, pulled him into a gentle hug.
“Laurali's alive? And… I have grandchildren?” She whispered in his ear.
Tor nodded and said yes. He left out exactly how many grandchildren, not wanting to overwhelm the poor woman. There were eleven of them.
Blood relative or not, if the woman had grieved for his mother, thinking her dead for years and called her daughter, that counted, right? Apparently it did to Mary Cannor, since she didn't let go.