This is the second chapter of Prince Errant. You can find Part 1 here.

* * *

The more I looked on the waiting troop, the more I realized the horses were color-coded. Those bearing the banners of family were mounted upon brilliant white chargers. Vassals of the Furst of Karststadt had their banner bearers upon gray steeds. Allies had brown. All the horses were of similar height, and as fine a mount as my amateur eye could assay. They were sturdy, powerful creatures, likely of Ritterblume, or the Prince’s own stables. Those of a more martial bent spoke quite admirably of the horses’ quality. But the nuance of horseflesh was lost on me. I saw no obvious defect, and they were both lively and obedient. I was not an expert horseman by any measure. I could sit in a saddle and steer, but I doubted I could urge a creature to hop a low rail, let alone do anything risky. The closest thing to a lance I’d ever held was the banner pole my fingers were now wrapped around. But the procession was a parade, I merely had to stay in line and steer.

The boy to my left was grinning stupidly. From the color of his coat and the banner above his head, he was one of Hermann’s brood. King Hermann had far too many children, and I couldn’t put a name to this one. The banner bore the Raven Coast Roc with an upturned crescent above its head and a dead dragon in its talons. My mind churned through my memory of heraldry. Hermann’s own banner had the Roc and upturned crescent, but carried the traditional ox. It was further embellished by having the skewered dragon of the Order of Dragonslayers within the crescent, and the crowned orb of Neph upon its breast. Neither of those details appeared here. The order’s emblem could only be borne by dragonslayers, so of course it had to be omitted from the banners carried by their children. The lack of the crowned orb meant he had not been born of the queen, but a concubine. Still, I couldn’t put a name to the cousin.

A sudden gust had the banners snapping, and my attention back to the one I held. It vexed me even worse than failing to put a name to the boy beside me. My father had said I was going to be carrying ‘our’ banner. That meant the griffins and globe. But the banner I wrangled back from the breeze was not the undifferenced heraldry of our family. This one had a star above the globe. Using the cadency favored in the north as my relations did, that marked the banner as belonging to a third son. The twins argued constantly over which was older, but the third son was undisputed. Instead of the family’s banner as I’d been promised, I was flying my own.

Somehow, I felt disappointed.

It was unlikely that my father had meant to mislead me. It was likely he hadn’t even been given complete details, as the procession was another’s responsibility to organize. But it was another grain of salt. Were there no wounds already, I wouldn’t have noticed. It was such a petty thing, and yet it gnawed at me.

The procession was staged in the largest plaza in the Lower City. The route was stupidly convoluted, but I didn’t need to remember. I just had to stay in formation, and not draw attention to myself. I could manage that much. The boisterous crowds called out as my grandfather made his first appearance. I had already been living under his roof at the Moor House when Prince Kord had informed the world of our direct relation. The fact that my father was the bastard son of the Countess Helen Heard was well known. That the Furst of Karststadt was his father had not been. Even I had been surprised. But, having passed sixty years of age, there was little damage the truth could do to him. His neat gray beard had been a little darker then, and his hair not quite as thin, but he still stood with the same confident, erect posture. Standing upon a raised platform, he motioned the crowd for silence. It was rare for him to actually wear the Iron Diadem proper, as the circlet made his features look harsh. A palisade of dull gray metal fortified his brow, with a triptych of enameled plates at the fore. It was hard to tell what scenes were depicted upon them.

Blue tailcoat fluttering in the gusts, Prince Kord continued to lower his arms, quieting the masses. He pushed his gold-rimmed spectacles up his nose and spoke plainly.

“People of Karststadt,” he said, “For five decades now, I have worked to better this land. I have built roads and bridges, harbors and canals, viaducts and aqueducts. And it is fitting that today we finish another of these last creations. It comes not to Topside, but flows unsullied to the lower city. So in celebration of this golden jubilee, I give on to you, the people of this city, fresh, clean water.”

In a perfectly choreographed moment of spectacle, the idle fountain in the middle of the plaza erupted into life. Gurgling out the last of its air, water spurted from its spouts and sprayed high into the air. A roaring cheer burst from the crowd at the sight, as the shortages had plagued them for some time. Smiling, Prince Kord descended from the platform and mounted his own steed – a coal black beast taller and broader than any other in the procession. He raised high the Raven Coast Roc, by right the largest banner flying. At this sign the drums began. The banner bearers were not the bulk of the procession, as space had been granted to entertainers and representatives of all classes, not just the armigers. The pace was set by the lead beasts, a quartet of adamantarxes. Twice as long and twice as broad as a horse, the woolly beasts were just as tall. They moved at a plodding pace, but were utterly implacable. No one would obstruct their passage, and thus disrupt the procession. Upon their backs were massive drums, beaten energetically by dogmen hanging from the flanks of the beasts. Their drivers were dwarfs, stoic of mein, and plugs in their ears.

Shaggy hair rippling in the breeze, the adamantarxes made for the plaza exit. Behind them gamboled the goblin pipers, somehow harmonizing with the deep booming of the giant drums. Both races had been brought to heel and given the rule of law during Prince Kord’s tenure. Goblins had the easier time of it, being able to speak human tongues, albeit with a pronounced accent. The people of the procession were sorted by class, with the more humble trades and entertainments near the fore. So the armigers and Prince Kord ended up in the rear. It was a celebration of everyone who owed fealty or alliance to the Furst of Karststadt, and it was a long train of people. I suppose it helped people who rarely dealt with him feel connected to their prince.

The convoluted path wound through every plaza and open square in the city, working its way through Lowtown before ascending Topside and meandering there. In the largest spaces, the procession would stop and Prince Kord would make a pronouncement of a gift ‘to the people of the city’. The gift would be tailored to something the residents of that district cared about. Whether it was tangible, such as the new aqueduct, or abstract, such as the repeal of an unpopular tax or abolition of an archaic rule. These pleased the crowds greatly. The procession ended at the Palace of Karststadt. The banner-bearers were directed to continue across the bridge, passing through the gate of the fortified outer precinct and assembling in the courtyard within.

The bulk of the procession left behind, Prince Kord ascended to a landing of one of the stairs to the outer wall. Many expectant faces looked up at the old man for whom I’d been named. My own expression was more slack. If I let my features express my feelings, they would show irritation at still being astride this horse waiting for the parade to finally be ended. The Furst addressed us.

“All of you here were chosen by my family, my closest friends, and supporters, to represent them in the opening of this celebration. Many of your are my family, closest friends, and supporters. And so there is one more gift to give before this procession draws to a close. A more personal one, to you as individuals. To each of you, I give the horses you ride, and the kit you wear. These steeds come from my personal stables, and were bred over my lifetime from the best equine specimens I could acquire. And since I was raised in Ritterblume, you know that is saying something.”

He grinned and others cheered, but I was torn. It was my birthday, and it was a gift, but it had been given in spite of the first fact. And I didn’t even have a place to stable a horse, let alone the time to take care of it. The clamor died down and Prince Kord spoke again.

“Now, there are more festivities tonight, and for the next few days, but I must withdraw for now. I promised my family I would dine with them.” He waved and set off for the palace proper.

* * *

The immediate question of the disposition of the horse was taken care of by returning it to the palace stables. There was a stall for it there, and the banner I’d carried got strung over the gate to show whose stark white steed it was. I looked towards the boisterous sounds outside the walls. Even if the ale and spirits weren’t free, they would be free-flowing, so I could drink my woes away for the evening. I had made it to the gate when my progress was arrested by Wendel. I frowned as he bowed and growled at me.

“I was instructed to ensure that you attended dinner.” His eyes glanced up and met mine. I could see the almost pleading expression, asking me not to make him choose between members of his pack. The pragmatic side of my brain pointed out that I’d have to make my way back to the Explorer House to get my money. The crowds would make that an unpleasant trip.

“Which dining room is it in?” I asked.

“Follow me,” he said. The Palace of Karststadt had been erected as a castle, and retained some of the labyrinthine, intruder-befuddling layout. That had been exacerbated by the various expansions and renovations over the centuries. The fact that Prince Kord hadn’t modified it beyond the requirements of general maintenance didn’t make it easier to navigate. We climbed what felt like an impossible eternity of stairs, switching stairwells twice as each ran out of risers. At last Wendel pushed open a door onto a rooftop terrace. It was on the northern end of the main structure, with only a few stories rising higher towards the stars. Lanterns hung from iron stands around the rail, and sat upon the long table at regular intervals. I was the last to arrive.

At the head of the table sat Prince Kord. With the Iron Diadem removed from his brow, he looked more grandfatherly than kingly. Along the sides of the table sat his sons, their wives, and almost a score of grandchildren. There was one seat empty, and it was in the wrong place. The chair was where it was supposed to be, at the foot of the table. It was one of the fancier two of the set. What was out of place was the placard. The seating was clearly assigned, and grouped by blood relation, with Hermann’s brood taking up most of one side, opposite that of Peter and my father. Horst and his solitary son sat on Hermann’s side, almost edged out by their multitude. Where my three siblings sat didn’t have enough room for me. That left the foot of the table. Were the Lady Marcelene still alive, it would have been her seat. The placard read ‘Kord the Younger’.

Knowing arguing was pointless, I sat in Marcelene’s seat.

Liveried servants poured the wine.

“It’s about time,” one of my brothers said. I didn’t see which, and they sounded identical. My mother hushed him.

“Now,” Prince Kord said, “Today is a day of celebration on many levels. This marks the first time since Peter left for the academy that every surviving member of my family has been at the same table. That alone is something to celebrate.” He raised his glass, and everyone followed suit, accepting the toast in the spirit given. I went through the motions to avoid drawing additional attention to myself. After the distance some of these people had traveled to be here, annoying them beyond my tardiness would be unhealthy. Most of the faces around the table I couldn’t even recognize. After all, Peter’s family had grown up in the east, where he’d set about carving out his own kingdom. And Hermann’s brood rarely ventured beyond the borders of Neph.

In that moment it dawned on me how influential the people sitting at that table were. As an Elector of the Volkmund, the Furst of Karststadt was so autonomous as to be effectively a monarch in all but name. We had the King of the Rustshades, and the King and Queen of Neph. We had the heir apparent to the Iron Diadem, and a Graf who was almost as autonomous as the Furst of Karststadt. Heck, my father probably had more ships than the Imperial Navy. In terms of money, manpower, and lands, we had three kingdoms worth. When allies were added into the mix, well, there was a reason students at the University wanted to toady up to even an insignificant son in the FitzHelen branch of the House Grosz. Slayers of dragons and kings; Breakers of walls and takers of cities; The reputations of some of the men at the table had led whole armies to surrender rather than face them. Yet not one word of his military exploits had passed my grandfather’s lips today. He wanted to be known for the things he’s built, rather than what he tore down.

“There is one other thing to celebrate today,” my grandfather continued. “On the very anniversary of my coronation, one of my grandsons was born. And his parents named him after me.”

I blinked as he raised his glass in my direction.

“Cruel fate put the date of his traditional coming of age on my golden jubilee. But for the rest of this evening, I want to celebrate the birthday of the younger Kord at this table.”

I reddened at the cheerful commentary as my family drank to the toast. The expression on my father’s face told me that he had forgotten. His shock even made him miss the chorus of, “Happy birthday,” the others sent my way. Someone remembered, but not the man who should have.

“Now someone’s going to give you a sword, make you sit in a temple all night, then drag you into the woods,” Bas said. As soon as my brother said that, Max leaned forward in anticipation of what was coming next. As sure as clockwork, our mother reached over and swatted Bas upside the head. It mussed his blond locks and made it easier to tell the twins apart.

“However flippantly described, it is traditional,” Hermann said. Though King of Neph since before I was born, Hermann was dressed simply, save for the rendition of his coat of arms embroidered on the breast of his coat. He was clean shaven and inherited my grandfather’s need for eyeglasses. His dark hair was starting to speckle with gray, though not enough to be striking.

“That is going to get tedious when your lot starts coming of age,” Peter said. Like my father, Peter was blond. Unlike him, Peter did not cultivate a beard. What my uncle did out of the ordinary was wear a blindfold. He acted as if he could see even with the cloth about his head. I heard he typically wore a mask, but I saw him so rarely, that I couldn’t speak to the fact.

“You don’t have to worry, you don’t have any forests to send them to,” Hermann said, smirking.

“Shows how little you know.”

“Oh?” Hermann asked, but no answer was forthcoming. The conversation was interrupted by the first of the fireworks going off.

“Well, the timing was good for most of the day at least,” Horst said.

“The fireworks are for the city anyway,” Prince Kord said. While the loud booming made it difficult to converse, the servants brought out our first course. It was a dark brown mushroom soup garnished with thinly sliced pickled vegetables. The small bowl told me we had multiple courses coming. The contrast between the savory soup and the astringent garnish was a taste combination I rather liked. Though I had been known to stick a fork in a pot of pickled vegetables and eat them straight. From the flavor, I guessed the mushrooms were of a variety that grew wild across the forests of Neph and Snaerveldi, and were quite expensive. I didn’t doubt that the theme of expense would be repeated throughout dinner today. For the jubilee feast, it made sense. For my birthday, not so much.

“I was wondering,” one of Hermann’s daughters asked, “Do we all have to give something to young Kord?”

In his most reassuring and fatherly tone, Hermann said, “No, we’ve got that taken care of.”

“Oh. I was worried because I hadn’t known, and I don’t have anything.”

Hermann gestured for his daughter to calm down and let it go. During another crescendo of fireworks, the servants swapped out our bowls for plates with lightly sauced pieces of fish. I was just breaking the white flesh when someone blurted out, “How is this fresh?”

Peter laughed. “I brought it in live, all the way from the Palm Coast.” Not an easy task, regardless of which route he took. But Peter had trained as a Lapis Wizard, and had an advantage when it came to keeping fish alive. While I couldn’t say that made the fish expensive, it did make it exclusive. No one else this side of the continent would be having the same dish. Though if someone had to pay for a wizard to transport live fish that far, it would be ruinously expensive. The spices mixed in the sauce had come from vastly different corners of the world from each other, but were still complementary.

As with any large gathering, the conversations had broken into a number of smaller clumps based on proximity. The main course was a small slice of mutton with green mint sauce and white potatoes that were decorated to look like woolly sheep. Poking one potato sheep with a fork, I began to feel homesick. My father had brought potatoes back with him after his first voyage, and they’d grown in the gardens of Sudtor since before I was born. In the hilly reaches and folds of the valley, flocks of sheep had grazed. On the field of sauce, the potato sheep perfectly evoked those memories. In a melancholy mood, I ate the small flock before turning to the meat.