Michael Sullivan - Wintertide

Breckton smiled. "Indeed."

"I don't understand," Nimbus said. "Murthas lost, why would he thank you?"

"He's still alive," Hadrian explained.

"Oh," was all Nimbus said.

Hadrian managed to stop Nimbus's bleeding. The tutor's nose did not appear broken. Even so, none of them was interested in returning to the banquet hall. Hadrian and Breckton escorted Nimbus to his room, where the slim man thanked the two knights for their assistance.

"You fight well," Breckton said as he and Hadrian walked the palace corridors back toward the knights' wing.

"Why did they attack you?"

"They were drunk."

"Where I come from, drunks sing badly and sleep with ugly women. They don't attack rival knights and courtly gentlemen."

Breckton was quiet for a moment then asked, "Where do you come from, Sir Hadrian?"

"Saldur explained-"

"Some of the men that fought with Lord Dermont and survived the Battle of Ratibor joined my army in the north. Captain Lowell was one of them. His accounting of that day in no way resembles the tale Regent Saldur described. I would not embarrass the regent or yourself by mentioning it in public, but now that we are alone…"

Hadrian said nothing.

"What Lowell did tell me was the entire Imperial Army was caught sleeping on that rainy morning. Most never managed to strap on a sword, much less mount a horse."

Hadrian simply replied, "It was a very confusing day."

"So you say, but perhaps you were never there at all. A knight taking credit for another's valor is most dishonorable."

"I can assure you, I was there," Hadrian said sincerely. "And that I rode across the muddy field leading men into battle that morning."

Breckton stopped at the entrance of his own room and studied Hadrian's face. "You must forgive me for my rudeness. You have aided me this evening, and I have responded with accusations. It is unseemly for one knight to accuse another without proper evidence. I will not let it happen again. Good night."

He offered Hadrian a curt nod and left him alone in the corridor.

A Question of Succession The sun reached its midday peak and Arcadius Vintarus Latimer, the Headmaster of Lore at Sheridan University, still waited in the Grand Foyer of the imperial palace. He had been there before, but that was back when it had been called Warric Castle and was the home of the most powerful king in Avryn. Now it was the seat of the New Empire. The imperial seal etched in the white marble floor was a constant and unavoidable reminder. Arcadius read the inscription that ringed the design, shaking his head in disgust. "They misspelled honor," he said aloud, even though he waited alone.

Finally, a steward approached and motioned for him to follow. "The Regent Saldur will see you now, sir."

One step closer, Arcadius thought as he headed toward the stairs. The steward was nearly to the fourth floor when he realized Arcadius had only reached the second landing.

"My apologies," the lore master called up to him, leaning on the banister and removing his glasses to wipe his brow. "Are you certain the meeting is all the way up there?"

"The regent asked for you to come to his office."

The old professor nodded. "Very well, I'll be right along."

Another positive development.

While it was unlikely that Saldur would agree to his proposal, Arcadius judged his odds of success tripled with each flight he climbed. He did not want to speak in a reception hall filled with gossipy courtiers. Not that he held much hope, no matter where the subject was broached. Still, if this meeting went well, he would be free of his guilt and the burden of responsibility. A private meeting with the regent would be perfect. Saldur was an intellectual, and Arcadius could appeal to the regent's respect for education. However, when he reached the office, Saldur was not alone.

"Well, of course we need a southern defense," Ethelred was saying when the steward opened the door. "We have a nation of goblins down there now. You haven't seen them, Sauly. You don't know…er…yes? What is it?"

"May I present Professor Arcadius, Headmaster of Lore at Sheridan University," the steward announced.

"Oh yes, the teacher," Ethelred said.

"He's a bit more than that, Lanis," Saldur corrected.

"Not at all, not at all," Arcadius said with a cheerful smile. "Instructing young minds is the noblest act I perform. I am honored."

The lore master bowed to the four people in the room. In addition to the regents, there were two men he did not recognize. One, however, was dressed in the distinct vestments of a church sentinel.

"You are a long way from Sheridan, Professor." Saldur addressed him from behind a large desk. "Did you come for the holiday?"

"Why no, Your Grace. At my age it takes a bit more than the allure of jingling bells and sweetmeats to rouse one such as I from warm chambers in the depth of winter. I don't know if you noticed, but there's a great deal of snow outside."

Arcadius took a moment to examine his surroundings. Hundreds of books sat on shelves, locked behind glass cabinets with little key holes. A pretty carpet, somewhat muddled in its colors and partially hidden by the regent's desk, portrayed what appeared to be a scene of Novron conquering the world while Maribor guided his sword.

"Your office is so…clean," the professor remarked.

Saldur raised an eyebrow and then chuckled. "Oh yes, I seem to recall visiting you once. I don't believe I made it through your door."

"I have a unique filing system."

"Lore master, I don't mean to be short, but we are quite busy," Ethelred said. "Exactly what has brought you so far in the cold?"

"Well," he began, smiling at Saldur, "Your Grace, I was hoping to speak to you-in private." He glanced pointedly at the two men he did not recognize. "I have a sensitive matter to discuss concerning the future of the Empire."

"This is Sentinel Luis Guy and over there is Lord Merrick Marius. I assume you already know our soon-to-be emperor, Ethelred. If you wish to discuss the empire's future, these are the men you need to speak with."

Arcadius paused deliberately, took off his spectacles, and cleaned them slowly with his sleeve. "Very well then." The lore master replaced his glasses and crossed the room to one of the soft chairs. "Do you mind? Standing for too long makes my feet hurt."

"By all means," Ethelred said sarcastically. "Make yourself at home."

Arcadius sat down with a sigh, took a deep breath, and began. "I have been thinking about the New Empire you are establishing, and I must say that I approve."

Ethelred snorted. "Well, Sauly, we can sleep better now that the scholars have weighed in."

Arcadius glared at him across the top of his glasses. "What I mean is that the idea of a central authority is a sound one and will stop the monarchial squabbles, bringing harmony from chaos."

"But?" Saldur invited.

"But what?"

"I just sensed you were going to find fault," Saldur said.

"I am, but please try not to get ahead of me-it ruins the drama. I've spent several days bouncing over frozen ground, preparing for this meeting, and you deserve to experience the full effect."

Arcadius adjusted his sleeves, and waited for what he thought was the precise amount of time to draw their full attention. "I'm curious to know if you've thought about the line of succession?"

"Succession?" Ethelred blurted from where he sat on the edge of Saldur's desk.

"Yes, you know, the concept of producing an heir to inherit the mantle of leadership. Most thrones are lost because of poor planning on this front."

"I'm not even crowned, and you complain because I haven't fathered an heir, yet?"

Arcadius sighed. "It is not your heir I am concerned about. This Empire is founded on a bedrock of faith-faith that the bloodline of Novron is back on the throne. If the bloodline is not maintained, the cohesion that holds the Empire together might dissolve."