Rafen (The Fledgling Account Book 1) by Y.K. Willemse

Author:Y.K. Willemse [Willemse, Y.K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: YOUNG ADULT FICTION
Publisher: Burnett Young Books
Published: 2017-08-27T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

The Letter

to King Albert

“No, no.” Alexander adjusted Rafen’s grip on the over-long sword. “Are you sure you are left-handed? Very well, then. Very interesting. Now: guarde.”

Rafen slipped into the position, which felt oddly familiar, not because he had done it in the past but because he remembered doing it in the future. At age eighteen, he would arrange himself into ‘guarde’ on the rolling back of a dragon and kill Talmon and avenge Torius.

Rafen didn’t quite know how he’d gotten into this. He’d been watching Alexander force King Robert to practice his fencing skills, which were poor. Then Alexander had suggested perhaps King Robert would like to practice against someone more his equal. At that point, he had noticed Rafen on deck. Before Rafen had known it, he’d been holding a sword, despite his protests.

“Believe me,” Alexander said, “no one is going to get hurt.” Then in a lower voice, with a meaningful smile, “His majesty won’t get anywhere near you.”

He pushed a cork onto the end of Rafen’s sword. King Robert was fiddling with the cork on the end of his.

“Are we ready now?” he asked wearily. “Alexander, really, I don’t think this is necessary. When would I possibly have to defend myself?”

Rafen stared at the king in disbelief. He’d always thought kings were constantly armed and ready to fight at the slightest notice. Talmon carried a pistol, a dagger in a black sheath, a whip, and a long rapier everywhere. King Robert carried nothing except an oddly shaped scepter with which he did what he called ‘a little kesmal’.

“You never know what may happen, Your Majesty,” Alexander replied. “I think Sianian kings have taken their own safety too much for granted. His Majesty Fritz, scarcely armed when his attacker came upon him—”

Fritz? Rafen gripped his sword a little tighter. He kept hearing that name.

“—then His Majesty Joseph, wandering off into the mountains assuming no harm would come to him. That’s not to mention your own brother, who refused to keep learning ‘kesmalic warfare’, as he called it.”

King Robert sighed. “I’m sure you’re right as usual, Alexander.”

“Are you ready, Rafen?” Alexander asked.

Rafen wasn’t sure he was. Alexander nodded quickly at King Robert, who lunged forward, his broadsword pointed at Rafen. Rafen recoiled.

“Parry, parry, Rafen!” Alexander ordered. “Parry!”

Parry? Rafen blocked King Robert’s sword, twisted his own to free the blade, and made a lunge. King Robert sprang forward to thrust and missed. Rafen’s sword sailed beneath King Robert’s, and the little cork prodded the sagging belly.

“There,” Alexander said, “there, now you see. Well fenced, Rafen. And Your Majesty, a mere boy can beat you. Do you understand the importance of learning self-defense? Anyone might run you through!”

“Well, yes,” King Robert conceded, gently pushing Rafen’s cork away from his stomach, “but Alexander, no one wants to run me through. Besides, I can do kesmal.”

“And little enough of that,” Alexander said. “I understand that you’re a diplomat and scholar by nature, Sire, but self-defense is essential for a monarch.”

King Robert shrugged. He gave Rafen one of his broad smiles.

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