Chapter 1.

My name is Arence of Gravelle. Like most young men, I dreamed from boyhood of becoming a knight and obtaining glory and riches. The riches, especially, enticed me. Our fief, in the southeast of Tortall, has long been victim to bad harvests caused by drought, flooding…sometimes drought and flooding in the same year, as unlikely as that sounds. I wish I could say that my father was able to salvage what harvest we had left and turn it into a profit, thereby being able to feed our people. Sadly, that usually wasn't the case.

My father, Sir Warlow, sustained an injury in the Tusaine War that confined him to a chair for most of the time. On his really good days he was able to move around with the aid of a walking stick. For a long time, his pride provided enough impetus for him to act like he was having those good days, even when it caused him such pain to be walking about that I'll never understand how he was able to do it. Riding his horse seemed to be a little more manageable for him, so he was able to get around Gravelle and see to our people's needs. That was back when he at least tried to keep us out of debt.

Then, in the year 445 H.E., my mother died. I was six years old, so I don't remember her very well. Just that she had brown hair and skin like snow. And that she did her best to keep my father motivated. She had been sick for a while when she gave birth to Costan, my only brother, and died shortly afterward. My father often said that Costan was the last and best present my mother had ever given him. I knew better than to feel bad when I'd hear him say this. My father and my mother had been deeply in love, and I suspect her death broke his spirit. Costan looks so much more like her than I do, with his light brown hair and chocolate-colored eyes, that it must have given my father comfort to see her in him. I, on the other had, inherited only her pale ivory skin. My raven-black hair and honey-golden eyes must have come from some distant relative I never knew.

After my mother's death my father sank completely into indifference. That's not to say that he didn't do his best to love us boys, but his injury, along with the stress of running a struggling fief and the heartbreak of losing my mother, seemed to be too much for him to handle. I guess the only thing worth mentioning of those dismal, intervening years before I turned seventeen was my own personal heartbreak when he told me in the spring of 450 H.E. that we wouldn't be able to afford a knight's training for me. I knew he felt badly that our family's money trouble was keeping me from my dream of knighthood, but as he had grown to rely on me so much to run the fief, even at my young age, I think he was secretly relieved that I wouldn't be leaving him.

Then, in 456 H.E., the Gods blessed us with a windfall that would change my family's life forever. It was in the spring of that year that my maternal uncle, Varick of Rivken, died without any heirs. Although his fiefdom reverted to the property of the Crown, all his wealth and possessions went to his closest living kin: Costan and I. I had just passed my seventeenth birthday and Costan was approaching his eleventh, so the newfound wealth seemed like the best birthday present ever. For the first time in years, my father seemed like his former self. He managed to walk out to the stable and mount his favorite (but now quite old) horse and take a ride around his ailing lands. Though the money technically belonged to me and Costan, my father immediately put it to use in setting Gravelle back to rights, and we couldn't have been happier. Then, that summer, as the buildings were being restored and the fields were ripe and in bloom, my father called us into his study. I remember the conversation well.

"Arence, Costan." His eyes were warm and lively as he addressed each of us—a welcome change from the lifeless pools we had grown accustomed to. "My two fine sons. I am proud of the young men you became in times of hardship. But I am prouder still of the men you will become now that fortune smiles on us."

Costan glanced inquisitively at me. Why would the two of us change now?

My father took a deep breath. "No point in beating around the bush. Arence, six years ago you wanted nothing more than to go to Corus to begin your page training. Sadly, at that time, we simply didn't have the funds for it to be possible. Now, however, the circumstances have changed." He turned towards Costan.

No, I thought to myself. No, no, no. I knew where this was going. I didn't want to resent my brother for the way our new wealth would benefit him in ways it couldn't help me.

"You, Costan," my father continued, "are the proper age to begin your knight training. I see no reason why you should not go. Page training will be starting soon, and I'd like you to get to Corus right away."

Costan's face lit up with joy before it was suddenly replaced with a look of guilt as he snuck a glance at me. I did my best to keep the disappointment I felt off my face.

"Go now, Costan," my father commanded. "Collect your things. You'll go as soon as Arence is ready to take you." Costan hesitated for a moment, looking as if he wanted to say something to me, before fleeing the room. Within a minute I could hear him yelling exuberantly to his friends from town. "Arence." My father's tone forced me to meet his eyes. "I know how disappointed you must be. I've heard of men starting their page training late. If you wanted—"

"No," I interrupted. In my mind, beginning my page training with a brother six years my junior was unacceptable to me.

"I thought you'd feel that way," my father said gently. "But I still feel it isn't fair to you to have to accompany your brother to Corus for his page training, without gaining anything for yourself. I'd bring him myself, but my condition simply wouldn't allow it…"

"I understand, father," I said. "I'm happy for Costan. He will make a wonderful knight."

"As would you. I'm sorry things did not turn out that way. However, I've been thinking, and I believe I have found another option. I would like you to attend University. You're bright and quick-witted, and I think you'd do well as a magistrate or an advocate. Now that we can afford it, I don't see why you couldn't—"

"No, father," I interrupted again. Immediately I regretted the sharpness of my tone. "The only life I've ever wanted is one of a warrior. I just don't think I would ever be happy as a scholar."

My father sighed, resigned to my determination. "Thank you for bringing your brother to Corus, Arence. If there is a way I can repay you, for everything, just let me know."

"Of course, father." I turned to leave. As I reached the door, my father's voiced stopped me.

"I just ask one more thing of you," he implored. I listened but didn't turn around. "Please, don't join the army. The men there are commoners, and as such are treated like fodder at the front lines. Commanders don't see army soldiers as anything more than one more body to throw at the enemy. You're better than that."

I paused with my hand on the door handle. Had he known I was thinking of doing just that? After a moment I gave a curt nod, feeling stick to my stomach and feeling like I was throwing away my last chance at happiness. I opened the door and left.

Costan and I were on our way to Corus the next morning.