The Final Days of Springborough

When Prince Thomas woke up, he was already late for his courses. But, Thomas was always late for his courses so he didn’t let such a thing bother him. He woke in his large bed, fit for a King, in his room that stayed warm due to the torches in the corners, even as the big, gray blocks that made up the walls and floor of the castle stayed cool to the touch. He looked outside at the partly cloudy day, and thanked his stars that there would be some sun to accompany his sword skills session, which were held outside.

He unwrapped himself from his blankets made of animal furs, and went to get his sword when he realized… it wasn’t there. Usually, he hung the sharp, steel object from a point in the wall an equal distance away from his bed and the door, with the thought that if an intruder were to enter, he had a running chance of getting his sword and defending himself. But, a sword is a sword, and Thomas never wanted the weapon too close to him as he slept for it was an obvious weapon, and he didn’t want it too close to the door for an intruder to arm himself too rapidly. Thomas the Knight had a “have to love” relationship with his sword. He was told, by his father, the King, that to be a knight, he would have to have a sword. But, Thomas was a gentle soul, knowing he didn’t really want to kill anything at any time for any reason.

If his sword wasn’t hanging on the wall, Thomas had no idea where it could be. He checked underneath his dresser, under his armoire, under his end table and bed for the off chance that it had simply fallen off and rolled somewhere, as unlikely as that could be. Sometimes his brother, Patrick, caused a slight earth tremor around Springborough, shaking the whole castle, which could, very well, be the reason the sword fell. But there’s no reason it was not somewhere close to the hooks on the wall. Unless it had rolled somewhere, but where? Thomas hadn’t a clue.

So, with the morning getting away from him, and his already being late, Thomas the Knight, went to his sword lessons without a sword. What upset him the most about the situation was not the fact that he was going to get yelled at (he has been yelled at plenty of times before, and he credits his thick skin from all the tongue lashings he has received for his apathy toward such common punishment) but the fact that something was not where it was supposed to be. Thomas was a particular knight. He was disciplined in all things but time management. He knew that his sword had a place, and he knew he had put his sword there. So, the fact that it wasn’t there was going to ruin his morning, and there’s no surefire way to ruin your whole day than to have a ruined morning.

Thomas arrived to his sword lessons, his blonde hair out of place, his clothes slightly disheveled, just so his outer appearance matched his inner mindset. As the son of a King, he was lucky to have one-on-one training with the greatest swordsmen the village possessed. Other knights in training were down below in the courtyard, average enough knights learning from average knights who learned from the average knights before them. The King Daniel, a physically imposing man with a voice that sounded like ground water in a well, would be quick to remind Thomas to appreciate the advantages that being a royal afforded him. For Thomas would learn from the best, making him the best as well, and therefore a fitful ruler to take over Springborough when his day would come, which would be after the eldest child- his sister, Kyrstin.

Thomas tried to remind himself of this fact every morning, when he had to force himself out of bed before the sun was at its highest in the sky.

His teacher, Corson, a slender man with dark hair, smiling eyes and a scowling mouth, did the usual sucking of his teeth when Thomas wandered in late.

“Tsk, tsk. The young Prince wastes his morning by being late,” Corson exclaimed, widely opening his arms to greet the morning sky as he always did.

“I’m not a Prince, I’m a Knight.”

“Prince of the Knight. The Knight Prince! A Prince who stays up all night fussing around instead of getting rest so he can be at his lessons on time. And what’s this? A knight without a sword is no knight at all. So, you’re simply a feeble Prince. How can you attack? How can you defend? What knight forgets his sword when he’s about to do battle?”

“Practicing is not battling.”

“Of which you can do neither without a sword!”

“Someone stole it from me!” Thomas shouted, sure of it now. If his parents were home, he’d immediately report this abuse to his father, the King, and King Daniel of the Lishens of the Kingdom of Springborough would not rest until the person who stole his son’s sword was captured. Thieves were not tolerated in the Kingdom. Prince Thomas Lishens knew very well that the man would lose his hand if he did not lose his head. “Instruct me, Corson, on how a knight gets back a sword that was taken from him?”

“Who took it?” Corson said, his arrogance at the young knight all but dissipating as he saw the young prince was not lying to him.

“How should I know? It was on my wall when I went to sleep, and I woke up to it gone. I doubt a house maiden would do such a thing. Another knight, maybe? A guard? But why? I mean, I‘m sure the prince‘s sword would fetch quite a bounty in the marketplace.”

“But, it would get the thief caught…”

Corson, his hand resting on the hilt of his own sword, belted around his waist, walked out onto the balcony of the training room. The cinder railing enclosed the balcony, letting the viewer look out onto the kingdom, onto the village, and beyond into the field lined with trees of the forest where the village of Fortis was. Beyond the trees were the Quakenfall cliffs, and beyond the cliffs were the waters of Cornwall where the people of Fortis fished. And in all these people in all these lands, Corson now knew one of them was an enemy. But, he didn’t want to scare the young prince.

“It’s curious it happens when your parents are away. Have you any word from the King and Queen, your highness?”

“Cut the highness talk. In your presence, Corson, I am but a knight in training. My father wouldn’t want me to act like a spoiled child to you just because of our differing lineages.”

“Quite so, young Thomas, so let’s talk frankly. Have you heard word from you parents? Are they due back soon?”

“No sooner than when they were before, but nobody necessarily knows when that is. I could ask Kyrstin when she’s done with her studies today, but I doubt she would have had word before me, or at least, not gotten such word and then not told me. Our parents will be back in the next couple of days, I imagine. They’ve already been gone for several weeks.”

“Quite right, Thomas. Quite right.”

Corson sat, lost in his own head, completely forgetting about the lesson. This was all right with Thomas as he was still trying to force a yawn to water his dry eyes. Thomas’ stomach was also rumbling from accidentally but unavoidably skipping breakfast in order to not be too late to this lesson which wasn’t getting off the ground at all. So, Thomas sat and watched Corson, knowing in his heart-of-hearts that he should probably be as equally concerned about the missing sword as his trainer, but he felt relieved he passed the burden of worry on to someone else. Now Thomas could only think about a slice of warm bread with a delicate smear of fruit.

“Well, now, if you don’t have a sword, we’ll just have to practice evasive maneuvering!” Corson exclaimed, and with a plan in mind, Corson, for the next hour, swung his freshly sharpened steel blade maddeningly around Thomas as the young prince scurried about the castle, trying not to get killed.

This is one of the main reasons Thomas hated combat training. If he didn’t feel like he was about to be slaughtered by his teacher, he was constantly being hurt. Corson never touched him with the sharpened end of the blade, but would whack at him with the side of it, leaving bruises and welts on Thomas’s arms and sides. As Corson’s blade thwacked him across his kneecap, Thomas made it his day’s duty to find his sword, for he wasn’t going to go through these lessons like this again. Perhaps after finding the sword, he’d whap the thief repeatedly with it, paying him back in kind for the treatment he was currently receiving.

The young prince knew of a witch in the village. Most fairy tales and stories tell the boys and girls to avoid witches; that witches were people who liked to eat children, cast spells on enemies, and generally be rule breakers on most things. But, this witch was beautiful, fully grown, thus, out of Thomas’ adolescent adoration’s reach, but still someone that Thomas could fancy about from a distance. But, the thing that Thomas liked about her the most was her comprehension of magic. If anyone could find his sword, the witch was a safe bet.

WHACK!

Thinking about the witch took his focus off Corson, and his trainer made him pay for it with another thwap on the hip bone. Maybe his witch would have some topical agents to help heal his bruises as well. He would have to find out.