The clang of blade edge versus blade edge rang through the training hall. Light and fresh air streamed through the high-vaulted ceiling, the latter of which the pair of duellists heaved into their tiring lungs.

  King Martin of Erisdale exhaled and stepped back, the point of his blunt training longsword low as he carried the sword as if he was going to slash upwards. Comfortable living had given him a bit of a belly and combined with his shorter, stocky form, he didn’t look at all like the war hero of the paintings.

  Rowena, her hands shaking, adjusted her grip on the two-handed saber she was using for training. Every breath the teenage girl took was laboured as she struggled to blink the sweat from her eyes, trapped underneath the sparring armor that both her and her father was clad in.

  “Dad, can you answer a question for me?” Rowena asked,

  “Sure!” said Martin, his bright voice echoey from within his helmet.

  “How are you so fast?” she whined.

  Martin had to bite down a chortle. He daren’t not lose his focus after all. “Whatever do you mean my dear?”

  Rowena grimaced. “You’re um, oh dear.”

  “Short? Oh I’m aware, my dear. Though are you sure it’s not because you got some dragon blood in you?”

  Rowena snorted. “I should be running around you.” After all, she was about a head taller than her father now. The sixteen-year-old sincerely hoped the growing would stop as she was getting a little sick of changing her wardrobe so often.

  “Have you?” Martin asked.

  “No—” Rowena blinked and suddenly knew that behind his helmet, her father was probably grinning, his blue eyes lighting up with glee. “How have I not been running circles around you?”

  “Now you’re asking the right questions!”

  Before Rowena could actually come up with an answer, however, her father had stepped forward and closed in on her, sword cutting up.

  Rowena moved her blade to block, only to notice in a split-second, her father turning this cut upward away from her body. She reeled back, only her athleticism saving her from the downward slash that he executed instead. She swung hard, intending to buy herself some space so she could follow up with another slash.

  Martin parried the cut, but instead of meeting the force behind Rowena’s blow, he slid in and let her blade deflect off his. His hand grabbing onto his longsword, he half-sworded his weapon whilst his blade bound hers. Rowena only narrowly blocked the scything cut from almost within her guard and the force threw her back so hard she lost balance and hit the ground with a clang.

  Martin froze, his sword stopping. “Rowena!”

  She rolled and came back up to guard, panting heavily. “I’m fine! I’m fine! Just bruised my ego. I’ve been relying on magic and Tristelle too much.”

  She could see Martin visibly relax at her words, which gave Rowena a bit of a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. “Well that’s part of the answer, Rowena. What did I teach you about angles?”

  “You taught me how you can use footwork and intercepting angles to cut off a more mobile opponent. That’s why we use feints and try to cut each other off. But I’ve been doing that—” Rowena blinked and groaned “—you’ve been letting me think I’ve been doing that have you?”

  Martin nodded. “Correct! It’s not an easy thing to do, but I let you lead, to attack me, or to try to cut me off. You thought you were cutting me off, but I was going pretty much exactly where I wanted to go and when.”

  “And you avoided my slash by getting into my range and dispelling the force with your parry,” Rowena whirled the tip of her blade in a circle to keep herself warm and ready. “I don’t get it. I typically lose against you and have a chance against mom, but you and her usually just end up trading rounds?”

  Martin cocked his head for a moment. “Well, the basis of your training is conventional and the Con-Rantan System you use is the longsword style I was taught. Your mother didn’t actually learn to fight conventionally and fights mainly by instinct, giving you a bit of an advantage. However, while your mother may not be conventionally trained, she knows how to read me. I do have tells. You just have yet to discover them.”

  “Hm, in that case.” Rowena’s left hand let go of her practice two-handed saber. She stepped forward to present the narrowest profile to her father and raised her blade straight up.

  Martin chuckled. “Garda Saber System. You do know that that’s taught to all our cavalry, right?”

  “But you haven’t learnt it and I bet you haven’t sparred against it frequently.” Rowena grinned as her father didn’t reply, but took on a high guard, his preferred stance. It was a good choice, as it would allow him to bring his strength down, but she knew that.

  Lunging, her saber flicked out, cutting and slashing, seeking the king’s armor, but her father’s footwork was excellent. It took but a slight step back for him to dodge. He didn’t parry, which was smart of him. She knew how to counter if he did and he knew that too.

  The disadvantage of Rowena’s two-handed saber was that it was heavy. As she whirled her blade, she knew she couldn’t keep this up forever. However, her father was not used to its length. She could see him trying to position himself better to counter, but he was being pressed back, only parrying her fiercest attacks.

  The king tried to escape, to get around her blade, but she cut him off, her lead foot carrying her and her blade forward to block his escape. He parried, countered, but Rowena was slowly driving him to the edge of the circular duelling court.

  Finally, he had nowhere to go.

  Rowena feinted, stepped back to dodge her father’s parry and lunged, her saber crashing down towards her father’s shoulder. He was reflexively trying to step back, but she was too close not to hit him. He could try moving but it was out of the court or—

  Martin suddenly reversed his course. Instead of stepping back, he stood firm and braced himself. His shoulder slammed into Rowena’s cuirass. She fell back, balance lost crashing backwards onto the floor. Before she could scramble up, she found her father’s blade to her neck.

  “How the—what?” Rowena gasped.

  King Martin pulled off his helmet, revealing his button nose, and a wide smile. It was an expression not filled with self-congratulation, but one filled with pride, pride for his daughter.

  He sheathed his practice blade and extended a hand. “You had me. You got me. It was a brilliant plan. So, I did something that I hoped would surprise you. I stood my ground. It can catch people off guard at times if you decide to just stand firm.”

  Rowena took her father’s hand and staggered to her feet. “Got it. Thanks dad.” She grimaced as she pulled her helmet off. “I hope I beat you one day, though.”

  “I’ll make sure it’s a long way off,” Martin said. The pair chuckled as they walked off the duelling court and to the changing rooms. Secretly, Rowena hoped the king would continue to challenge her for longer. It would feel strange to beat him one day.

  ***

  Rowena had to admit that one rather significant upgrade to becoming a princess was having her own bathroom and bathtub. She still preferred to wash up and dress herself when she wasn’t in a rush, but she deeply enjoyed the privacy the marble-tiled chamber afforded her.

  That did mean though that when she emerged, quite refreshed, Tristelle resting in a scabbard hanging from her hip, she was met by a scroll from a cuirass and helmet wearing goblin, outside of her doorway.

  “Thank you, Georgia. Who is this from?” Rowena asked the goblin. She was one of her two chief guards who escorted her personally and oversaw her security detail.

  “From your mother’s staff. It seemed important,” said Georgia.

  Rowena broke the wax seal and skimmed the missive. “It is. Can you ask Lycia to meet us at Jerome’s workshop? We’ll need to fetch him.”

  “Lycia could fetch him if you wished it so, Your Highness,” said Georgia, even as she pulled out a wooden communication token.

  “Yes, but we’re not in a rush and I’m curious about what my brother is working on with Tia,” said Rowena. “Besides, I need to brief you both.”

  Georgia arched an eyebrow but obeyed Rowena, whispering a message into the device as the pair made their way through Erisdale Castle.

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  The residence of the Kings and Queens of Erisdale for centuries past was a little dated for Rowena’s liking. Athelda-Aoun had been renovated with a number of accessible architectural features such as ramps alongside stairs and magically-powered lifts that ran up the sides of building. Its plaster walls were often painted soft pastels or patterned with murals easy on the eyes. Buildings also often sported higher ceilings to accommodate centaurs that would visit. Moreover, in Alavaria, there was a tendency to decorate spare spaces with a huge amount of weapons.

  Erisdale Castle was built for humans and while Athelda-Aoun was ironically older than it by centuries, the former had not been renovated so recently. Rowena passed painted wooden panel walls adorned with portraits, impressive but faded, floor to ceiling tapestries of bygone kings and queens, and more modern epic murals depicting more recent events.

  One was the Grand Staircase, where the eponymous marble-tiled staircase snaked up a massive three-story square chamber adorned with a floor to ceiling mural of the last battle of the Great War. Of course, her father and her mother were featured quite prominently, fighting a horde of Demon King Thorgoth’s Alavari, while backed by the humans and their Alavari allies.

  Rowena looked up at the figures of her father and mother, back to back, the king wielding an ornate sword, whilst the queen sported pistol and saber.

  “Pretty, but I don’t think that actually happened,” said Georgia.

  “Mom and dad would agree, but the truth is almost more unbelievable. Mom and dad fought Thorgoth with Elizabeth and Ayax whilst Frances readied her spell,” said Rowena.

  That also wasn’t actually quite encapsulating the whole truth either. It was just what her mother and father had told her. They did not mention that Ginger, a bog standard normal human, had actually gone toe to toe against the Demon King, who’d quashed even the most powerful mages.

  Her parents had a bad tendency to underplay how stunningly badass they were and while she’d found some of the stories about them were exaggerated or warped, she was equally surprised to find out how many of the tales didn’t reiterate their most extraordinary moments, likely due to how unbelievable they would sound.

  Speaking of sounds, Rowena could hear clanging in the distance. Following them down familiar passages, she greeted passing servants and courtiers politely, but firmly passed them by. She had no time to make idle chatter.

  She did stop, however, when a pale-faced human guard with stringy blonde hair tied in a ponytail, marched up to them.

  “Greetings your Highness. This must be important if you were interrupting me during my paperwork time,” said Sylvia, Rowena’s other guard. Like her goblin wife, she had a wand strapped to her belt denoting her as a mage.

  “Well, there’s a wedding in our… problematic neighbour, the Kingdom of Lapanteria,” said Rowena.

  “And how has that got anything to do with Erisdale?” Georgia asked.

  “Nothing and everything, but let us find my brother first,” said Rowena as she walked closer to the source of the noise.

  They passed into one of the castle courtyards, through several gates until they reached a brick workshop. It looked similar to a stable, and even had large swing-out doors, but leading out of these doors were metal tracks on wooden ties. The clanging had grown silent, so Rowena rapped the wooden door several times, but no one responded.

  Taking a breath, the princess pushed the door in. “Jerome? Tiamara? Where are you—AH! What are you doing up there?”

  Two heads had popped up from behind the curve of a large boiler sat atop a set of massive driving wheels. Rowena’s head barely reached the diameter of the wheel’s edge. From what she’d learned from Frances, this was the beginning of a steam engine, meant to run on rails and pull large numbers of carriages from place to place.

  It was also her brother Jerome and her friend Tiamara’s pet project.

  “Hi Wena! We were just doing the last weld!” said Tiamara.

  “Weld for—Oh, you finished?” Rowena asked.

  “Yes! We’re hoping to test this on the testing line near the castle docks,” said Jerome.

  “Maybe you should steam it outside first, just to test it. This is Mark 17 right?” Rowena asked.

  “Oh yeah, that’s a good point,” said Jerome, scratching his head. “We did reinforce it after what happened to Mark 16 but…” The prince blinked. “Oh, sorry sis, you must need me for something.”

  Rowena waved her brother off, smiling. Frankly, she hated interrupting her brother when he got passionate about his hobby. “I do. Mom and dad have called a meeting with us. Royal Council members.”

  “That’s serious,” said Tiamara, blinking. “You better get going Jerome. I’ll clean up.”

  “Sorry Tia,” said Jerome, clambering down from the boiler.

  “As long as we’re having smoked-meat poutine tonight all will be forgiven!” Tiamara called back.

  “I’ll make sure of that, Tia,” said Rowena, waving at her friend as they jogged out of the workshop.

  When it was just the four of them, Jerome whispered to Rowena, “Is it Lapanteria?”

  “Yes. Prince Alastor is getting married,” said Rowena. She pursed her lips. “Have you ever met him before?”

  “Yes. He’s an ass—” Jerome winced. “He’s not a very nice person and that’s being generous. I wonder who would put up with him.”

  “Isn’t he the heir to the Kingdom of Lapanteria and its current regent?” Rowena asked.

  Jerome snorted. “So? He’s selfish, self-centered and doesn’t take no for an answer. Whoever is marrying him is not doing so for love or even out of affection.”

  “I trust you, but you’re assuming a lot, brother,” said Rowena, arching an eyebrow.

  Jerome shrugged. “Alright, maybe, but every time I’ve met him, he made fun of me for my hobbies and insulted our kingdom. I cannot imagine whoever is marrying him is marrying him for anything other than wanting to be in the Lapanterian Royal Family. That and there’s how he treats his siblings.”

  Rowena grimaced. “Righ. Princess Sallene and Prince Mathieu, right?”

  “Sallene’s nice. She comes off very prickly, but that’s probably due to exposure to Alastor. Matieu is very smart and tough. They protect each other,” said Jerome.

  “Shouldn’t their parents be the one protecting them?” Rowena asked.

  “King Sebastian and Queen Megara are essentially semi-retired after King Sebastian’s stroke. He’s bedridden and recovery has been slow. When Sallene and Mathieu are at the Lapanterian Crystal Palace with them, they’re safe, but court and administration is centered around the Sunflower Court and the capital at Salapantir. I don’t think Alastor would hurt his siblings. He cares for them, but he’s also selfish. He’s always looking to increase his influence and power.”

  “And now Alastor is getting married and we don’t know who,” said Rowena as she reached the council chamber.

  Jerome’s head whipped by to stare at her. “Wait, we don’t?”

  “That’s why mom and dad have called this meeting,” said Rowena, opening the wooden doors.

  Unlike the Grand Council Chamber, where Erisdale’s nobility and elected representatives met to discuss and debate matters of state, or the smaller Cabinet Chamber, where Martin and Ginger, and on occasion, Rowena, met to figure out how to execute the council’s will, the Royal Council Chamber was a tower room enclosed almost entirely by shelves holding updated maps and reference books. Some small, high windows let in some light and spiral stairs ran up into the ceiling, where Rowena knew there was a lookout

  At the centre of the room was a large oblong table. Aside from its fine varnished wood, its only unique feature was a small sapphire gem set into its centre. Apart from that, it was littered with writing utensils, scrolls and a set of boots, specifically, Queen Ginger’s. The woman was resting her feet on the table as she leaned back on her chair. King Martin was fully occupied massaging his wife’s shoulders as she rested, blissfully unaware of the new arrivals.

  Rowena coughed into her fist. “Mom.”

  “Hi dad,” said Jerome, in a chipper tone.

  Martin looked up but didn’t stop massaging. “Hello there.”

  Ginger’s eyes flew open, but she only sighed and pulled her shoes off the table. “Hi. Georgia and Lycia can stay.”

  “We better, lest we ask Captain Helen to come in with a security detail,” said Lycia, shutting the doorway with her wife. The pair found chairs by the doorway.

  “Rowena dear, can you get the recorder?” Ginger asked.

  Drawing Tristelle, Rowena tapped her sword on the gem, activating the recording spell within before sheathing the blade. She took a seat with her brother, facing her parents.

  “For the record, this briefing is classified for Royal Council members only, which in other words, the immediate Royal Family of Erisdale and trusted guards. I’ve asked you to come today because of a recent invitation from the Kingdom of Lapanteria. As you heard, their Crown Prince Alastor is getting married,” said Ginger.

  Martin rested his elbows on the table, his fingers interlaced. “What we are concerned about, aside from the fact that the bride to be is an unknown, is that our envoy in the Lapanterian court has been hearing that Alastor is making direct statements questioning the borders that were drawn up after the Fourth Great War as well as the current trade agreements we have with them.”

  “Are they insane?”

  Jerome’s eyes had already widened, but he was soon glancing at his sister, whose hand had formed a fist. Rowena, her other hand holding onto Tristelle, tried to bite down her rising fury.

  Ginger only smiled. “Why do you think they’ve gone mad, Wena?”

  Rowena took a breath. “Lapanteria and Erisdale have fought numerous pointless wars over that border, weakening our kingdoms so that when the Fourth Great War started, we had sacrificed some of our best soldiers and mages. Besides, we settled that dispute in the Treaty of Athelda-Aoun when we gave Lapanteria the Vertingen Plain in exchange for us and the Kingdom of Alavaria having a section of the hills bordering the plain. They gained more territory out of that treaty then they had any right to.”

  Martin nodded. “That’s mostly true. I do think they’re crazy for wanting to challenge that treaty mind you, but you’re missing some nuance, Rowena. For one, have you ever wondered why your mother and I agreed to give up those claims to Vertingen and not press any claims against Alavaria for Kwent?”

  Rowena blinked, and shook her head. Shame rose like bile in her throat. She’d been doing her best to catch up with her studying why her parents had made the decision they had during their reign, but there was so much to learn.

  Martin however, waved his daughter off, smiling kindly. “It’s alright. Most people don’t know why either. At the time, Erisdale was broke, like, so broke that no territory we gained could actually pay back the hundreds of gold rings we’d spent on the war, or the hundreds of lives we lost. Lives that could have been translated to hands that would have rebuilt Erisdale. So your mother and I, using the fact that King Jerome and Queen Forowena gave their lives to end the war, and the fact that we weren’t seeking territorial claims, negotiated with Lapanteria and Alavaria to pay us a very large indemnity in gold, construction materials and lowered trade barriers.”

  Ginger grinned. “After all, we had no money to redevelop those lands anyway, not enough to people to settle them, and we desperately needed to improve our existing infrastructure. The guard posts, the improved roads, those were all paid for over the long term by the Treaty of Athelda-Aoun.”

  “Although we got a lot of criticism early on when we made that decision, the benefits paid off. Erisdale had an economic boom after the war, which is the source of our popularity. People are happy, healthy and that means further investment. Our Grand Council helped us to find talented leaders, whilst our association with Athelda-Aoun and the School of the Magic and Mundane has fueled our economy with talented mages, researchers and entrepreneurs,” said Martin.

  “But all of that was paid by what Lapanteria sees as Erisdale completely ripping them off,” said Ginger.

  Jerome arched an eyebrow. “But they could have given you the territory and Alavaria isn’t complaining about the treaty. Why does Lapanteria have any reason to whine?”

  Ginger snorted. “They don’t, but remember, Alastor isn’t like me or Martin. He may not see things the same way. Now, I can’t imagine why he’s complaining as our ambassador says that the Sunflower Court is more splendid than ever, but there may be a reason we are not aware of.”

  Martin took a breath. “That’s why Rowena, your mother and I are thinking that you need to go to Lapanteria and attend the wedding.”

  So this scene allowed me to do a few things, make a Father-daughter scene, but also to introduce more grown up Rowena. I also really wanted to get into postwar Erisdale a little before Rowena's next adventure.

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