Son of Spring

Reads: 169  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

This is the first chapter of this book, looking for feedback.

Chapter 1 (v.1) - Springtime

Submitted: March 13, 2017

Reads: 182

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 13, 2017



“Alain, are you paying attention?”

Alain Tremont, only son and heir to the famous Baron Godric Tremont who was called Guardian of the Realm, formerly First Sword of the King’s Defenders, Protector of the People and Champion of the Ulciene War; tore his gaze away from the green hills that could be glimpsed through the small window in the dark stone wall, where it had wandered over the course of his lesson. He returned his gaze to the wiry old chamberlain who was glaring at him from across the large oak table. Gentius Barlaine was a scholar from the top of his wispy, balding pate down to the bottom of his ink stained calf-skin boots. Appointed by Alain’s father to oversee his training in numbers and letters, as well as history and economics and a myriad of other subjects, Gentius was very serious man. Alain could only remember seeing the man smile once, and that was because Alain’s father had ordered him. He approached his duty of education almost religiously.

Alain groaned inwardly as Gentius folded his gnarled hands and leaned back in his chair. He knew what was coming next.

“What was the year during which the Junar Rebellion was staged?”

“The year 340 in the Second Era.”

“And who led the rebels?”

“In name or in deed? Juna is the man who the rebellion was named after, but he was a figurehead, put forward to draw attention from Robert Ecthele who incited the nobles against King Adeber.”

The chamberlain’s bushy eyebrows drew together over his dark eyes, “And what was the specific event that sparked the rebellion?”

“Robert Ecthele was taking money the tribesmen of the Roaring Peaks Mountains, who encouraged him that he was to be the rightful king and bring the kingdom peace.”

Those eyebrows drew even closer together. “You are right, but it is only a partial truth. Robert Ecthele’s daughter Iona was kidnapped by and then married to a Clan Chief of the tribesmen. The specific event was when a raid by Kind Adeber’s men destroyed the clan Iona lived in. Robert was enraged by the death of his daughter, and so mounted a rebellion under the figurehead of Juna, who was fool enough to believe he was the brains behind the whole plan.”

The chamberlain sighed and leaned forward, placing his folded hands on the surface of the table. He looked tired, but it may have been a trick of the light. They were in the rooms set apart for holding the records in the upper levels of the keep. They were dry and musty, and Alain had seen more than a few cobwebs on the racks of scrolls and shelves of books. The only light in the room came from the small window in the wall to the right and the few scattered candles that gave off a dim, flickering light that seemed to Alain utterly inadequate when one had to deal with numbers or letters. The lack of good lighting highlighted the lines of the chamberlain’s face with dramatic shadows, making him appear far older and more tired than he would appear in the well-lit grand hall.

“Alain, it appears that you have been developing the peculiar skill that your father has of listening while your mind wanders. Unfortunately you have not yet managed to stop your gaze from wandering at the same time as your mind. However that is one skill I would prefer your father not pass down to you.”

Alain dropped his head, shamed. His mind had indeed been wandering, filled with idle thoughts of riding through the hills just outside the walls of the town.

“You must work hard on your studies,” Gentius continued, his voice measured and crisp, “Your father has no other son to succeed him, and so it will be up to you to take over his holdings when he is no longer with us. He puts great stock in your education, as it was not something that was available to him when he was your age.”

“Yes Master Barlaine, I just don’t know why I need to learn about events nearly five hundred years past.” Alain looked up from the aged wood into the chamberlains dark eyes, squinting slightly. The poor lighting was hard on his eyes; when Alain was born he was near blind. His father had paid a large amount of money hiring Mage healers from the capitol to heal his eyes. The healers had warned his father that because the healing was done while Alain was so young that it may not be complete. Alain’s sight was near perfect, he only had trouble seeing in dim light or when he was working with small numbers or letters. Those often left him with splitting headaches, which only an herbal draught that Gentius made seemed to help.

“As a wise man once said, those who forget the past—”

“—are doomed to repeat it, Menji Kuri.” Alain finished, sighing. He stretched, feeling the muscles in his back bunch as he twisted around in his chair. The solid construction was really quite uncomfortable, there wasn’t even a cushion!

“Precisely.” It seemed that the chamberlain’s lip twitched, and Alain wondered if perhaps the serious face Gentius put forward was just an act, intended to deceive the unwary while Gentius himself laughed behind a solemn facade.

Gentius looked towards the small window as Alain settled into his chair.

“But how can history of the land compare with the draw of the land itself, especially in the springtime?” Again Gentius’ lip twitched. The chamberlain stood up, his chair scraping softly across the faded carpet laid down over the rough stone floor. “Since our lesson is nearing its end and it seems I have lost your attention anyway, I guess we could end a little early today.” He made a dismissive gesture as he turned away.

Alain jumped up, his chair skidding back rapidly. Gentius looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. Alain gave a deep bow and exclaimed “Thank you sir! Do you need any help putting away the books?” Alain figured that his hesitation must have shone through his words, as the chamberlain shook his head.

“Run along boy, I am not so old as I cannot handle a few books by myself.”

Alain gave a broad smile and turned swiftly to leave the room. As he turned he noticed the chamberlain shaking his head in what seemed an amused fashion. Alain found himself re-evaluated his ideas about Gentius Barlaine as he left the room. Turning the corner, he quickened his step. He barely noticed the worn tapestries draping the walls of the corridor. As Master Barlaine said, it was springtime, and Alain was not about to let a moment waste if he didn’t have to.

© Copyright 2018 carl tamlinson. All rights reserved.


Add Your Comments: