His first thought upon awakening that morning wasn’t of the midsummer festival that had captivated the rest of the castle, and most of the city as well, officially commencing in mere hours. He instead recalled that today was the one year anniversary of his brother Aelfredd’s death.

  So much had changed for him in the past year, in many ways for the better. He was the Swordmaster Elect for the Kingdom of Falkaria, with a comfortable chamber in the castle and access to the castle library and other resources. Thanks to the training he had received, he was one of the best swordfighters in the Kingdom. Master Jesphat had also expanded his knowledge to include a depth and breadth he never would’ve imagined possible from the farmstead he had shared with his brother.

  Still, something was missing from his life, something he knew he would likely never have again. True family, the kind that loved him unconditionally – not because he had performed well in training, as he believed was the case with his adopted father. Family that shared and showed real affection.

  He’d decided that he would look for that in his friendships, in particular with Dael but increasingly with Ted and Ed as well. The four of them had become close, building their own version of a family who could rely on each other.

  When he finally dragged himself out of bed, dressed and prepared for a day of training, he found the Swordmaster awaiting him in the tower’s common room, eating his morning meal with the same solemnity with which the man seemed to complete every task before him.

  “Good morning, son.” The man had been attempting to build a more familial bond with Turgeon since formally adopting him, but Turgeon had been resistant to his overtures. This was still the man that had killed Aelfredd, and nothing was going to change that. Especially not on this day.

  “I know this is a sad day for you,” he began, “but I’d like you to try to enjoy yourself at the festival as much as you can. Keep your wits about you while you enjoy it, though. Not too much drink or rich food, understood?”

  “Yes, Swordmaster.”

  “Good, you’ll need to stay fit for the tournament.”

  “The tournament, Swordmaster?”

  “Yes, the tournament. I’ve entered you in the two handed sword contest, and I expect you to acquit yourself well as my representative.”

  He’d done what? Entered Turgeon in the sword fights? Was he ready?

  “I know what you’re thinking, and I believe the answer is yes, you are ready for this,” he had indeed read Turgeon’s mind, not such an amazing feat though given the circumstances. “There will be some real competition, but I am confident your skills will serve you well.”

  With all the emotions swirling inside him, one was beginning to stand out and dominate the rest. Excitement. For the first time in a long time, he had something to look forward to. Competing in the tournament in front of the amassed nobility of the kingdom was a bit scary, but for now he felt more excitement than fear.

  “Thank you, master. I hope to perform to your expectations.”

  “You still have much to learn within Klaaverius’ teaching. The spear, the bow, mounted combat, combat in armor and more. There will be time enough for that, after the festival. The spear and mounted combat will be a particular focus in the coming weeks as we prepare for war. For now, it’s time to show the Kingdom what you’ve already learned, and mastered.”

  “Yes master, thank you,” Turgeon turned to leave, eager to meet up with his friends and enjoy the first day of the festival.

  “Turgeon?”

  “Yes, master?”

  “One last thing before you go. It would be fine with me if you called me father, when you are ready.”

  “Yes, master.”

  He turned and left the tower, not bothering to face the Swordmaster and so not seeing the sadness Turgeon’s dismissal of his overture had brought to his face.

  *****

  Tents and other constructions built for the midsummer festival sprawled across the grounds below the castle and around the walls of Falkaria City. The Kingdom’s nobility who were visiting mostly had residences in the city where they could stay for the week, and those that didn’t either stayed with relatives or took rooms at the inns in the city. The city’s inns were overflowing with guests though, and many of the commoners who had arrived in recent days were forced to camp outside the city.

  The scale of this tent city was mind boggling for Turgeon and his friends, swelling to nearly match the city itself in occupied acreage not even including the armies that were also massing on the plain beyond the city.

  As Turgeon and his friends walked to the festival grounds proper, which had been walled off from the tent city with a temporary construction and housed the tourney grounds, feasthalls and a marketplace for officially licensed and sanctioned vendors, they discussed their ongoing plans to break into the library’s restricted area.

  Ted and Ed had been brought into the scheme at Dael’s urging. Through means he had refused to disclose he had learned that Ed was actually skilled at lockpicking, and he had also pointed out that they would need a lookout while they were in the back room of the library, a role which Ted should be able to fulfill competently. Their help should make this scheme considerably easier to pull off than Turgeon and Dael’s previous effort with his master’s office.

  “So we’re agreed,” Dael had taken charge of coordinating their scheme, “that we will make our move tomorrow morning after Master Jesphat heads to the festival grounds for the day.”

  The other three boys nodded their agreement.

  “Good. When we get to the library, Ted will snag a book from the main stacks and begin reading from a seat at the table where he can see both the library entrance and the hallway to the restricted section. If someone is coming, close the book loudly, stand up and walk out of the library calmly. Got it, Ted?”

  Ted nodded his understanding.

  “Ed, Turgeon and I will make for the restricted section. Ed will pick the lock on the door, then return to the main library and join Ted as a lookout while Turgeon and I search the tomes in the restricted section. Hopefully we can find something quickly that will help us to identify a magic user.”

  Everyone was aligned on their plan, and they were arriving at the festival grounds where the day’s activities were already in full swing. It had been announced that the King planned to give an opening speech later that morning, ostensibly welcoming the nobility and opening the tournament.

  By far the most prominent feature of the official festival grounds was the tourney arena. The main arena ground was a massive field, with space for up to five jousting competitions to run simultaneously. Stands for the spectators to watch the events surrounded the field and rose up into the sky with row upon row of benches for commoners attending the events to share. The nobility was afforded a more comfortable place to view the contest from, with a large covered building, standing higher even than the stands, spanning almost one entire side of the field.

  Even the scope of the contests was mind boggling to Turgeon. Throughout the week there would be jousting, melees with dozens of participants, wrestling competitions, archery competitions and even feats of strength that involved seemingly pointless tasks like hauling large boulders across the field.

  Turgeon was, of course, most focused on the duels that he would be competing in himself. Dael had informed him that once the registration for the event was closed, which would be today at some point, a bracket would be posted on the tournament grounds detailing who would be paired against who for the first round of the contest. While the event itself wouldn’t start until the fourth day of the festival, Turgeon was eager to see where he had been ranked among the entrants, and who would be his first opponent.

  While they awaited the appointed time for the King’s announcement, the friends wandered through the festival grounds, exploring the myriad offerings of food and drink (Turgeon took care to use moderation as his master had requested) and marveling at the array of items available for purchase in the festival market.

  Merchants had come from across the Kingdom, and only the best of the best had been allowed to set up shop within the festival proper. Lesser merchants were forced to hawk their wares in the smaller makeshift markets that were scattered throughout the sprawling tent city.

  Tents and stages had also been constructed for the many performers that would entertain the crowd. Only the most talented bards, jugglers, acrobats and acting troupes had been permitted into the festival proper, but as with the merchants many more were scattered throughout the tent city to entertain the commoners.

  As the time for the announcement drew near the crowds began to make their way to the stands and the competition field itself to hear what the King had to say. Rumors of war were rife throughout the festival grounds. Word of the final encounter with the Summorian emissary had trickled down from the court through their attendants and was now universal knowledge.

  Turgeon and his friends managed to find seats in the stands, outside the area reserved specifically for the nobles but near enough to still have a fine view of the King’s area at the center of the noble’s covered seats.

  King Maebric entered the field to a roar of cheers and fanfare. A platform had been erected on the edge of the contest grounds, near the nobles seats and the King mounted it regally with his retinue.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Today, that retinue included his usual attendants and some new additions. Master Jesphat, the Swordmaster, the castle steward and Suzette all accompanied him. The friends were dismayed to see that Y’grathen was also there, unsurprisingly he had returned to Falkaria City with his father, Y’gurth, who was also with the King this morning.

  “This does not bode well,” Dael whispered to Turgeon, who merely nodded in response, his own frown deepening.

  Turgeon was also surprised to see that Brigitta was with Suzette. She had been mostly absent for months, and had looked weak and sickly when he had last seen her, so long ago he had almost forgotten about her. Today she was again hale and healthy as she joined the princess on the stage.

  “Loyal subjects of Falkaria, it is my great pleasure to welcome you to what promises to be the greatest midsummer festival in living memory,” the King began his speech, but was forced to pause as the crowd cheered his opening statement.

  “Music, food and more await you all! But I know what you are all most eager to see: the contests! The Kingdom’s greatest knights and warriors will compete for prizes in jousting, archery, wrestling, feats of strength and, of course, the duels!”

  More cheers from the crowd forced another pause, this one so long the steward was forced to raise his arms high to quiet the crowd.

  “Before all of that though, I have a most joyous announcement to make,” he paused and smiled at Duke Y’gurth and Y’grathen, “It is my great pleasure to announce the betrothal of my beautiful daughter, Princess Suzette,” a smile at Suzette, “to Duke Y’gurth’s son, Y’grathen.”

  This news brought another joyous cheer from the grown, and more frowns and glares from Turgeon and his friends. As the crowd cheered, a smiling Suzette and Y’grathen came together, held hands while gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes, then turned to the adoring crowd and raised their joined hands high above their heads. Reacting to this performance, the crowd cheered even louder.

  Turgeon began to stand, making to depart the stands and return to the castle, but Dael put a firm hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down into his seat. “Not yet,” he hissed quietly into Turgeon’s ear, “If you leave now everyone will see and the King will consider it a grave insult.”

  He was right, of course. Turgeon resigned himself to suffering through the remainder of the King’s address.

  “People of Falkaria, it warms my heart that this news makes you as joyous as it does me!” the King continued, “We must now turn our attention, briefly, to more serious matters. As you are all aware by now, war looms like a shadow over our great Kingdom. Summor and Klaav have conspired villainously to force our hand and push us into an unwanted conflict. They believe we will be easy to defeat, and they seek to divide our great Kingdom between them as spoils.”

  That did not draw a cheer, though there were a few scattered boos from the mostly silent crowd.

  “People of Falkaria, my loyal subjects, know this: we will not let them win!” More cheers again, “We will drive them back from our borders and show them defeat like they have never known before! Our enemies' grandchildren will whisper in fear of Falkaria and the great defeat of their forebears at our hands!”

  He had managed to whip the crowd into a frenzy, and the steward was again forced to raise his hands to demand silence.

  “Enough talk of war for today though, this week we will celebrate life and enjoy ourselves! Let the contests begin!”

  With that, the King and his retinue filed off the stage and towards their seats in the covered stands to roaring cheers from the crowd. The first groups of lancers trotted their mounts onto the field and readied for the opening tilts.

  “Come,” Dael beckoned, “This will be our best chance, while Jesphat and everyone else is distracted with the opening of the contests.”

  As the friends discreetly made their way out of the stands and back towards the castle they bemoaned the glorious return of their tormentor, Y’grathen.

  “I can’t believe Suzette is going to marry him,” Turgeon complained. “He’s such a lout, she deserves so much better.”

  “That may be true,” Dael agreed, “But with the impending war, King Maebric needs to ensure the loyalty of Duke Y’gurth more than ever. Defense of the northern border depends on his troops, not to mention the stranglehold Fjaarlgard has on the Kingdom’s iron supply. Without their mines to supply Falkaria’s armies we might as well surrender to Summor now.”

  Ever the politician, his friend the Duke of Ko. Turgeon knew he was right, but it didn’t change his bitter feelings about the betrothal. If nothing else, this meant that Y’grathen would be spending even more time at court.

  Time would come to deal with the consequences of that though, for now they needed to stay focused on their mission to break into the library’s restricted area. Perhaps if Turgeon and his friends could find the mage behind the assassination attempt on the King they could win the King’s favor and insulate themselves from Y’grathen’s wrath.

  *****

  At first, everything went according to plan. The library was empty, as was most of the rest of the castle with only a skeleton crew of servants left behind for the day as everyone else enjoyed the festival. Ted took up his appointed position, pretending to read a romance novel at one of the main tables, and Ed was able to pick the lock to the restricted section with surprising ease. Either he was more talented with lockpicking than he had let on or the door’s lock was weaker than it really should be.

  Turgeon and Dael set to work immediately reviewing the books in the small room. It wasn’t large, around three paces across the circular space, but the curving walls were lined with shelves that were in turn packed full of tomes. The ceiling was far above their heads, with a single large window spanning most of it and admitting a bright light that illuminated the place. A ladder slid around the room on a rail to allow access to volumes shelved in the upper reaches.

  After nearly an hour of searching, Turgeon was becoming disheartened. “This was a bad idea Dael, we don’t even know what we’re looking for! We’re never going to find anything useful in here. What were we thinking? That we would find a book titled How to Find a Mage…”

  He trailed off as he noticed Dael was sliding a book off of one of the shelves, settling down to sit on the floor and opening it in his lap with great care.

  “Did you find something?”

  Dael didn’t respond, he was too absorbed in the volume he was delicately paging through. Turgeon moved to look over his shoulder and watch as his friend delicately turned the pages with a look of awe on his face. Turgeon recognized the pages though, and it wasn’t a book of arcane lore that Dael had found. He was reading a copy of Klaaverius’ writings on the Fiorian art, but the illustrations were different from the ones Turgeon was used to seeing in the copy Jesphat shared with him.

  “What is that Dael?” Turgeon asked more insistently, “It doesn’t look like what we’re supposed to be searching for.”

  Dael sighed, stood up and closed the book, showing Turgeon the cover. He recognized Ko’s coat of arms emblazoned on the volume. “I’m sorry Turgeon, I’ve deceived you. It was always my intent to search for this volume here. It belongs to my family, and was stolen from us long ago.”

  Just then they heard a booming voice from the library proper, “What are you boys doing in the library today of all days? Shouldn’t you be enjoying the festival and watching the jousts?”

  “We can talk about this later,” Turgeon recognized the voice of the Librarian, “but you need to put it back.”

  Reluctantly, Dael replaced the book on the shelf. He had found it, and he may believe it to be his family’s property, but he knew the King would feel differently and he wasn’t about to steal it from the King.

  Attempting to seem nonchalant, the two exited the restricted area and quietly closed the door, making there way back through the stacks towards the main library. They hadn’t gone far when Jesphat appeared in the aisle before them, blocking their way with his immense frame.

  “What are you two doing here?” Jesphat demanded, but from his face it was apparent that he quickly put two and two together and figured out what they had all been up to. “Come with me, now.”

  They followed truculently back to the main library, where Ted and Ed were fearfully awaiting their return.

  “We’re frightful sorry, Turge. Dael,” Ed whispered as they took seats next to their friends at one of the library’s large reading tables. “He came in so suddenly, we didn’t have time to give the signal before he was upon us.”

  “It’s ok, T-” Turgeon was cut off by the furious librarian.

  “Silence! You will speak only to answer my questions.”

  They followed Master Jesphat’s command, sitting in silence while he towered over them stewing and considering how to handle them. After a time, and some calming regulated breathing, he had gathered himself enough to begin questioning them.

  “Were you in the restricted section? Don’t lie to me, if you deny it I will check to see if the door is still locked as it should be.”

  Dael and Turgeon both knew they hadn’t had a chance to relock the door behind himself, and Jesphat knew it too. Turgeon elected to be their spokesperson, hoping his relationship built through studying with the librarian would help their case.

  “Yes, master,” he attempted to sound contrite.

  “I’ve told you there is nothing of use to you in there. What exactly did you hope to find?”

  For a brief moment, Turgeon considered lying. There were many plausible excuses for wanting to access the lore in the restricted section. He could have claimed they wanted to learn more about magic. He could have thrown Dael in front of the cart and told Jesphat they were after the book Dael had actually found. From the way the librarian was eyeing Dael, he suspected that motive was already being considered, and it wouldn’t have been entirely a lie he realized.

  In the end, he opted for the truth. He chose to trust this man, who had been a mentor to him and had shown him so much kindness already.

  Turgeon unraveled the whole story, from the first attack that Geoffry had saved him from to his suspicions regarding the most recent attack that had sent him to the infirmary having been an assassination attempt on the King. He explained that they were trying to solve the mystery, identify whoever was behind the attacks and hopefully save the King from coming to any real harm in the future.

  When his tale was complete, they all sat in silence for a while longer as the librarian digested it. Eventually, he responded.

  “I wish you had come to me with this earlier, boy. If someone is trying to assassinate our King, apprehending them is not a task for four boys. We should get the King’s Own Guard involved…” but he trailed off as he realized the reason they hadn’t involved anyone else: they didn’t know who they could trust. Despite the stringent requirements to join the guard, there was no reason to believe that whoever was behind the attacks didn’t have allies or spies amongst them who would warn off the assassin.

  “We need a way to find a magic user,” Turgeon took the librarian’s pause as an opportunity to press his case.

  “There is a way to do that, but you won’t find it in this library. Not even in the restricted section,” he glared at each of the boys in turn as he said the last. “The Academy closely guards the extant Imperial artifacts with that power.”

  The Academy? What was that and why had Turgeon never heard of it before?

  “Have you boys spoken to Melora about this? Perhaps she may be able to share some insights?”

  “Melora? The castle healer? Why would she be able to help find the assassin?”

  Jesphat chuckled deeply at that statement, and Turgeon couldn’t help but feel like he was being mocked. Even Dael looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

  “Do you not yet understand the healer’s true role here, boy? Worry, not, it’ll come to you in time. For now, though, I do suggest you speak with her on this subject. She may be able to help.”

  With that, Jesphat stood up, placed both hands firmly atop the table and leaned over the four of them. “We will forget that this happened today, and I will tell no one what we’ve discussed here. Best of luck with your efforts, and do try not to get yourselves killed.”

  He ushered them out of the library, and once in the hallway they breathed sighs of relief, staring at each other incredulously with wide eyes. None of them could believe they’d just gotten away with that.

  “I suppose we should go back to the festival then, eh?” Ed suggested, and the rest of them agreed.