16 a Brother by Any Other Name

1992.05.01

A Brother by Any Other Name

By Matthew Sibole

"Come on, Duncan!" the older boy shouted. He was already at the top of the castle wall and brandishing his wooden sword.

"I am not Duncan, I am Maximus Belois, the great paladin of Heironeous!" the younger one shouted back, drawing his pretend weapon and leaving a few splinters in his belt and trousers.

"And I am Samgar Bane!" the other shouted back. "I destroy abominations with just a wave of my hand and am such a great swordsman that the knights of Samreign beg me for training!"

"Have at the then, Samgar!" the younger called and swung his crude sword in the air. The swords cracked and smacked at each other in surprising synchronicity. Although they were just thirteen and ten years old, both had watched enough swordplay to have learned it well. The small Samgar parried a thrust and swung around in a circle, slashing at his opponent's legs. The agile Maximus leapt over the stroke and brought the flat of his weapon down on Samgar's shoulderblade.

"Ow!" the older boy cried out.

"First blood!" yipped the younger, smiling at his accomplishment.

"Second blood!" yelled Samgar as he tackled the other boy forcefully and began to rap him on the head with small fists.

"No fair, we have to use swords," cried out Maximus, fighting off the older boy's punches with his forearms.

"If you can get me off you, we can fight with swords!" the older boy taunted, pinning the younger down with his knees. He was laughing and punching and enjoying his upper hand until a punch caught him under the eye and sent him sprawling.

"Are you ok?" said Dycannus, now dropping his Maximus persona.

"Grandpa wouldn't have punched your granddad," Arthur reminded.

"He would have if your grandpa pinned him down and wouldn't have let him up!" Dycannus defended. He hated being pinned down. It made him feel inferior.

"True," Arthur admitted. "Besides, we need to be teaming up on vampires and skeletons, not fighting each other."

"Yeah!" Dycannus shouted in agreement. "Let's go find some undead and send them back to Hell!"

The scene was fresh in both men's minds as they relayed it over a beautifully laid out dinner table in the mayor's residence. Sitting at the table were twenty guests, including Dycannus, Sivora, Gun, Tarin, Edea, Raina, and Tamizander. Raven and Tia were serving with some of the prince's personal servants. The rest of the table was made up of noble councilors and higher ranking members of Prince Artorious' honor guard. Surprising at least to those that he'd traveled with for the last three weeks, Arthur chose the band of adventurers to sit closest to him with Dycannus at his left.

"You always did cheat because you couldn't beat me," Dycannus recalled with a smile.

"What better time to cheat!" Arthur laughed. "That's what your father taught me!"

Arthur was older than Dycannus by three years, but they grew at nearly the same rate from the ages of eight and eleven. Even now, only a trained eye would be able to tell them apart in a full suit of armor. Arthur was the first son of King Duncan Belois, the ruler of Belois as well as High King of Dai-Rynn. He was a well known warrior and noble in his youth and was also a respected recruiter and trainer of paladins on the isle of Avalon. Those that heard the call were brought to the Belois court and apprenticed to the king or his aide de camp, Jammel Bane. Jammel, Dycannus's father, and the king had served together in many battles and were the best of friends. They had also grown up together, as Samgar Bane had been the mentor of Maximus Belois. Each family followed Heironeous and brought their names honor by defending the innocent and ruling the paladin kingdom of Avalon justly and fairly for four centuries.

"Why have you never returned to the court, Dycannus?" Arthur asked. "Your parents still serve my father in Silverbow. It gets lonely in that big castle all alone."

"Is that why you are moving to the front?" Duncan asked. "Because you are bored or because you have a death wish?"

"I have improved since we were children, Sword Arm," Arthur bragged. "I'm sure I could best a simple cleric." The challenge did not go unnoticed, but an older and wiser Dycannus didn't feel the need to prove himself anymore to his older friend.

"I'm sure you can," Duncan agreed sincerely, "but if you best me, who will heal your wounds from leaving your ribs exposed?"

"How did you know I still do that?" Arthur yelled happily. "Damn you priest! You have the Sight!"

"No," Duncan disagreed, "I just remember how you never listen to teaching."

As the wine was poured and the dishes were brought out, the conversation moved to Duncan's friends. Arthur inquired with much curiosity of how such a varied group came to be allies.

"Your name is familiar to me, Lady Swordwraith," the prince confided. "I never made it past the second round of the Lance board tournaments. My teachers say I am too aggressive in battle to become a strategist."

"Aggressive and stupid do not have to go hand in hand," Sivora said between chews. When most of the sound stopped, she quickly added, "uh, your majesty…"

"They do when I have a game board in front of me," Arthur chuckled. Sivora let out a breath and a smile. She had to remind herself that she wasn't just one of the guys; this was practically an affair of state. She was not in her element, but the food was fabulous and the company could have been worse.

"Don't mind her, your majesty," Zander interrupted, "such brutal warriors have their place on the battlefield, but have no skills when it comes to conversation."

"A bard of your worldly experience must know that I am famous for dining in the guard barracks then," Arthur responded matter of factly, but not condescendingly. He was an excellent diplomat, both making people comfortable while also maintaining an air of royalty. Everyone was impressed by him, as he seemed much older than his years. His face was not as smooth as one would guess from his age and his voice carried a bit of gravel to it. His hair was neatly cut and may have been blonde at one time, but now was leaning more towards a mousy brown. His shoulders were not a broad as Duncan's or even Sivora's, but he moved with grace and dexterity and appeared to be a very capable fighter and athlete.

"I know many tales of your father and grandfather's adventures," Zander said, still trying to make a good impression on the very important man. "I can sing of them later if you wish."

"I would think you could find a better subject than those of my bloodline, Tamizander," he replied gently, "but I would very much enjoy and appreciate a performance for later in the evening."

"One that can charm a bard is a very dangerous man, indeed," Tarin said softly to Edea. She snorted slightly while taking a bite of game hen. The two of them were the focus of many stares from around the table although they had consented to wear some fresh clothes to dinner and not the bloodstained armor they'd been sleeping in for the past few months.

"I wonder if he plays a lute as well as the pretty one." Edea replied under her breath.

"I'll ask him," Tarin replied and began to clear his throat. He quickly stopped when he felt something cold against the flesh above his belt and realized his new shirt had a discreet hole (and the tip of a more discreet blade) in it. Nevertheless, the noise brought the attention directly to him, which is not where he was comfortable being.

"You had something to say, ranger?" one of the other guests asked in a condescending tone.

"Yes, I do," Tarin replied to the haughty woman, now staring at her. "I was wondering why a member of a royal bloodline with a family so famous and rich as to have songs sung of them would bother with a town with ramparts made of dirt and people so honest they do not barter with gold or contracts as one does in a court." His stare did not stop when she looked down at her plate, or when she excused herself during the prince's reply.

"The songs of my grandfather and father take place in areas just like this one," Arthur replied. "The most noble of their deeds were not done by the point of a finger or the signing of a parchment, but with the sweat of their brow, the blood in their veins, and the sharpness of their sword. My desire is to spend time with the people who make up the lifeblood of Belois and to know them, and for them to know me. I cannot rule a populace that I have never met. I cannot be liege to a man who's never pledged an oath to my face."

The directness and the honesty of the answer took Tarin aback.

"Which of your speechwriters fed you that line?" he asked skeptically. "He surely deserves his monthly stipend." Arthur just chuckled.

"I write my own rhetoric, my friend," he said, "so when the crowd hurls rotted fruit they are aiming at the right man." This brought a smile to Tarin's face and he nodded in acceptance. He could see how a man would swear loyalty to such a liege, though he never would.

"And speaking of heroic fathers," Arthur continued, "does our bard know the tale of yours, Blackblade?"

Even Tarin stopped breathing at this point. Arthur had asked innocently enough, but the depth of his knowledge surprised everyone. Sivora, Duncan, and Gun each questioned each other with their eyes, not knowing what he referred to. Edea, her blade now safely back in her sleeve, now reached for Tarin's rough palm under the table. She knew his pain, and also knew what that pain had forced him to abandon, at his own peril. For the son of the High King to know his history would mean he would know the punishment that awaits him in Jinn for treason.

"This ranger's father single handedly killed several hill giants in defense of a town much like this one," Arthur continued. Tarin could not break his stare, fearful of where the story would end. "He was a protector of a town not much smaller than this one and was a capable lawman and forest father, as the elves call them. He fought until the bitter end of his own life, and I did hear that the giant that was unlucky enough to nail him to his cross lost a finger and thumb when he taunted Sir Gavin too close to his mouth."

"What did you call him?" Tarin said, almost accusingly.

"Sir Gavin?" Arthur answered confused. "You did know that your father was a knight under my father? That is how I knew the name, Blackblade. You have cousins in Belois that carry it still."

Everyone could see how this upset Tarin, but only Edea knew to what extent. Gavin Blackblade had been the antithesis of Tarin's real father, Janus, a knight who'd died during combat at a royal tournament. Now, to find out that his mentor and step-father was also a follower of the bonds of knighthood shocked him to his soul. Without a word, he stood.

"I did not know this," he replied calmly, "but I appreciate the enlightenment. I must excuse myself."

"Please," the prince pleaded. "I did not mean to upset you. I beg to you stay and finish the meal. We do not need speak of this again." He stood as well with a hand outstretched in friendship.

"We will not speak of this, that I can promise," Tarin said curtly, but I must be excused." With that, he left quickly, brushing past Raven and Tia as he departed. Edea, not wanting to show the depth of her feelings for the ranger in front of these ignorant strangers, straddled her emotions between rage and heartbreak. Both brought tears to her eyes.

"Gentlefolk, I apologize for this unpleasant turn of events," Arthur said, still standing. "I must apologize foremost to you kind heroes. I did not mean to insult or offend one of your numbers after all you have done to help us in this dire time."

"He's a guarded soul, your majesty" Gun replied, "and a resilient one. I assure you he will deal with his demons and return better for it."

"Thank you, monk," Arthur replied. He looked directly to Edea, "Please pass along my sincerest apologies."

"Uh, yeah," she said, uncomfortable under the man's soft gaze. She knew he meant no harm in the statement, but she also felt wounded by him at the same time. "I'll tell him if I see him."

"Thank you, Edea," he said as he took his seat. The fact that a prince had just addressed her by name dumbfounded her for a moment. The weight of this man's title and importance was more than any of the dregs she'd ever met and here he was, sitting with them as equals and offering an apology to a scruffy ranger with a daddy complex. She went dizzy as she considered all this, and then stopped the spinning with a long drink of wine. A couple of eyes were still on her, but when she finished the glass, her intimidating stare burned them away.

"Now that my boot is back on my foot," Arthur replied sheepishly, "who shall I insult next?"

"You can insult me any time you like, your majesty," Raina purred. She had not been the center of attention in approximately an hour and was getting jealous.

"I could not find an insult for one of your beauty, my dear," he replied quickly, making it obvious that he'd long noticed the half-elf without making it known. A loud clatter of a heavy dish being dropped to the table between Raina and Arthur broke the mood. Raven smiled a coy grin.

"Oops," she said. "A thousand apologies, your majesty. Forgive my clumsiness!"

"No worries," he said, looking up at her. "This meal is so exquisite I'd have eaten it off the floor." This brought a laugh from everyone but Raina, who again lost the attention she craved. She took her fork and mangled a small piece of game on her plate, trying to burn holes in the back of Raven's head. As the older woman walked back to the kitchen to fetch another plate, Tia smacked her hard on her backside.

"That's just mean, Ray" she scolded. Raven just smiled a knowing smile and went back to her business.

The meal and the stories lasted well into the night. After a long day's travel, many of the members of Arthur's party retired to their rooms at the inn, but the crew of adventurers were used to a longer night and the prince made no mention of ending the evening. They had earned their celebration and the prince's wine was just as good as any. The prince told stories on Duncan like how the younger boy would follow him around and answer very seriously when heads of state would address his father commonly.

"You actually believed the king of Argoth was talking to you!" he howled, making Duncan turn red although the time was more than fifteen years passed.

"But which of us stopped sharing their parent's bedchamber first?" Duncan replied, drawing hearty laughter from Sivora, Gun, Edea, and Zander. Tia and Raina just shared embarrassed looks, but were both more and more taken with the easy-going prince and didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"It would have been longer, but I had to move out because you were always wedged between them in their bed consulting on foreign affairs!" Arthur roared, spilling his mug of ale on himself. Duncan couldn't keep a straight face and let wine spray from his tightly closed lips.

"Bastard," he said under his breath.

"Got you drinking, Bane!" Arthur called out. The next several minutes were spent explaining the rules of a rather rude game they played together during state dinners and trying to make officials and each other spit their drink profusely across the room in laughter. It was also revealed that Arthur's father, the High King, was so far ahead he'd have to be dead for years before the boys caught up to his marks.

As the night wore on, the prince continued to drink regular ale while the band of warriors emptied his elven wine. The stories lasted well into the night until dawn when Zander, Edea, and Gun skulked back to the inn having had all the fun they could have. Raina and Tia had worked their way to either side of the prince and had also drifted off to sleep on bearskin rugs next to the fireplace. All that was left was Sivora, Duncan, and Arthur.

"You are welcome to use the bedrooms here," Arthur offered.