The High King: Book Two of the 'Riothamus' trilogy Read Online Free Page B

role as Government however any major issues and
decisions must come to me for final judgment.”
    The
Councillors nodded happily. Obviously they had been worried about
their positions and the future of the Council.
    Aran turned
back to the Archmage, “Are we finished here? It is long past midday
and I would like to get out of this armour and eat.”
    Maran nodded,
“We will directly move your belongings to the royal rooms. Prince
Arantur, your new rooms will be ready for you by evening.”
    Aran inclined
his head, “Then finally I would ask one favour of you all
here.”
    Maran turned
back to the young man, “Of course my Prince….”
    Aran smiled,
“I am not the king yet. Until the crown sits upon my unworthy head
I would prefer to be just called Aran or Arantur. It will be soon
enough that I will have to be addressed otherwise and ‘Prince’
sounds so strange to my ears.”
    Maran dipped
his ancient head, “Very well, if you wish it so. Although you may
not wish to hear the word ‘prince’, I must insist that you have
some sort of title. This is only out of necessary respect for your
lineage and rank.” The Archmage stared at the young heir, “Might I
suggest the title ‘Lord’?”
    Aran smiled,
“I accept that compromise.”
    “Good,” Maran
stood up and indicated to the others that the conference was at an
end. “Captain Taran, I would ask you now to send out those Guard
messengers with all due speed to the southern cities. The rest of
us need to now ready the throne room and royal rooms for the
renewed lineage. Those not required for such a task may spread the
word to the rest of the household here that we have again a royal
heir.” He smiled suddenly, “That is if the Guards have not already
beaten us to it. “
    *
    “Did you have
any inkling of all this, my Lord?” Darven asked, as he helped Aran
to remove his soon to be king’s heavy mail hauberk.
    “No,” Aran
grunted as he leant over and let the mail fall from his shoulders
into a noisy heap on the stone floor of the armoury. “It was only
until the very last moment when Maran stood before me and offered
me the kingship did it finally sink in that I was the heir.”
    Darven watched
as Aran pulled off the gambeson and rearranged his family’s sword
in the belt and scabbard at his hip, “You’d do well not to lose
that my Lord,” he observed wryly, “It is your heritage after
all.”
    Aran glanced
down at the quiescent weapon at his side, “It’s not likely that
anyone could steal it from me. You saw what happened to Sen…they’d
burn as soon as they touched it.”
    “Aye, but it
is potent proof of your ancestry. Keep a close eye on it my Lord.
There is no other weapon like it.”
    Aran nodded,
“As a Warriormage it is my true weapon. Such magecrafted blades
were intended to be wielded by those mages. That is why the sword
was given to Andur. He had the latent Warriormage Ability.”
    Darven bent
over to unbuckle the armour plates from Aran’s lower legs, “I am no
longer surprised by anything now my Lord,” he commented. “This week
has certainly been a memorable one for us all.”
    Aran shook his
head, “Darven, I’m going to have to insist that you drop the ‘my
Lord’ rubbish. Honestly, I cringe every time I hear you say
it…”
    Darven grinned
“Is that a royal command?”
    Aran lightly
thumped the other on the arm, “Yes! Please ”
    “Then I shall
obey,” Darven laughed.
    Aran
straightened his clothes, “Will you ride with me this afternoon? I
need to clear my head of all this…”
    Darven’s face
fell, “I had arranged with Kiaia to ride with her.”
    Aran laughed
and gently slapped his friend’s back, “Then go with her, I will ask
Alissa, I am certain she will come.”
    Darven
brightened, “Ask her, we will all ride together, besides the heir
apparent should never ride unescorted. We have to keep you in good
health and fine fettle for your crowning.”
    “Aye,” Aran
agreed bleakly, looking around