A/N: Yet another Seanfhocal Circle challenge from the Dancing Dove. Have you ever wondered why Duke Gareth dislikes Lord Alan? Or why Thom and Alanna are so arrogant? It runs in the family.
Disclaimer: Tortall and its inhabitants belong to Tamora Pierce, and are used with her direct permission and encouragement.
The Progess Report
Lord Alan stood and stretched. His muscles ached from his hours of sitting in one place, reading an ancient manuscript. His candle had nearly reached its base--a sign that the evening meal would be ready soon.
"My lord, there is a dispatch for you," a servant said when the scholar finally stepped out of his dark study.
"From whom?"
"A-a royal courier, my lord."
Lord Alan took the proffered message and examined the seal. Naxen. Certainly Gareth had no reason to communicate with him. Unless... had that arrogant man from Alan's youth managed to become the place Training Master? No doubt the king had placed him thus because he was the unchallenged hero of the Battle of Joyous Forest, Alan assumed with a snort.
"And a royal minister because his sister is the queen," he muttered, shoving the letter into a pocket of his fur-lined robe. Old wounds ran deep, and he never forgave Gareth for all of the tricks and teasing during their training-and, even worse, for making the royal family think he was actually smart enough to be the Prime Minister.
"Champion, certainly. The man is a brute with a sword, and that is all it takes to be the King's Champion," Lord Alan snarled.
He sat down at the long, empty table, shaking his head to rid his mind of such useless fury. Why hold such a grudge? His blood was bluer than most nobles at court and he was intellectually superior to many of the Mithran priests who taught the knights-to-be.
After his supper, Alan returned to his study to read the missive. Servants passing by were shocked to hear audible snorts followed by harsh laughter.
"Alan?" the Lord of Trebond chuckled, his voice rich with sarcasm. "The man is supposedly brilliant enough to be the Prime Minister, yet he can't even remember which name belongs to the father and which to the son?"
He snorted again and reached for fresh parchment and a quill. "Alan, indeed," he snickered, beginning his letter about his pleasure upon reading his son Thom's report of progress.