DUX BELLORUM


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CHAPTER SECOND

BOYS WILL BE BOYS

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ARTHUR WOKE UP TO A SKY THAT WAS BEGINNING TO BRIGHTEN, HERALDING A NEW DAWN STILL AN HOUR SHY OF THE HORIZON. Crisp and cold, the air of Winter breathed life onto his face, lifting him off from the cold stone balcony. After stretching his body awake, he walked into the warm chambers where Princess Guinevere lay fast asleep on her bed, left bare to the elements with various bear-furs bundled around at her feet and clutching the cross-pendant necklace to her chest. He wasn't sure when she'd moved back inside but at the sound of her peaceful sighs, he could not help but smile, and drew the furs over her slender form. He took his father's sword, leant against the bed and left.

When he departed from the princess' bedchambers, he found the hallways of Ogyrvan's Keep still empty and quiet. He wondered how far he could take his luck and return to the guest's chambers where he and his family were permitted to stay.

That is to say…not very far…

"Going somewhere, are we?" The commanding voice of Caius Castus had the power to stop him in his tracks.

He turned around, meeting his brother's furious glare, finding their fury plastered upon a battered and dirtied face, a couple of minor bruises on his temple and even some scars barely visible on his cheek. Arthur had to admit that he found how his brother looked extremely comical. "Rough night?" he asked and then broke out into fits of laughter.

"Yeah, laugh it up, genius." Cai grabbed his impetuous brother by the collar of his gambeson, snatched the sword from his grasp and forced him to tip-toe onwards. "That little street-brawl you started lasted the whole night. I think someone even died."

"Hope it was Prince Wuffa."

Cai stopped walking, and once again, narrowed his eyes over the boy. "You're lucky that you didn't lose your head last night. Anguls are ruthless fighters, little brother. More than a match for even the best of our own knights—"

"Then I should consider myself among them," Arthur declared. "Since I held my own against that pompous edling in single combat and beat him."

"Hah! The way I hear it, you got your arse handed to you."

"You don't know. You weren't there!"

The older brother chuckled again, moving him aggressively onward. "Victorious or not, brother, what happened last night did not help a delicate situation with a horde of barbarians that have already taken Icheni territory within months and is now about to march on Tameliard and Deira. So, dad's pissed and King Ogyrvan's thinking about taking your head and gifting it to Wihstan himself."

At first, fourteen-year-old boy was amused and chuckled at his brother's indignant tone, but when he saw that long, grim and hard look on his face, Arthur's eyes went wide and fear gripped him. "Wait, are you serious?!"

His big brother did not answer and simply urged him on with more force. They got to a pair of large black doors on silver hinges that seemed very heavy to budge but without strenuous effort, Cai pushed through into a medium-sized throne room. Drab and poorly lit, a shocking contrast to Guinevere's room. The walls were left bare save the unlit torches hanging against the cold stone.

At the end of the modest throne room, below a large banner: a gold lion passant standing over an obsidian field, stood a kingly if not simplistic chair of wood, with a mixture of Celtic and Christian motifs carved into it.

Sat upon this regal throne was a regal man in fine tunic and furs cloaked over him. He was large and beefy, even taller than Cai if he were to stand, with a big, light brown beard to match a head of long and luxuriously well-coifed hair left wavy upon his broad shoulders. He was handsome in the traditional sense, nary a blemish visible on his pale face. Though he was not wearing armour, the king had on obsidian bracers on his forearms and muddied greaves.

Some called King Ogyrvan Leodegrance a giant for his stature, or speculated that he may have some giant's blood in his veins. The old king did little to dissuade the rumours, even spread a few more for good measure. Strength of his reputation added to the security of his kingdom.

Beside the king on both sides were two equally tall figures in deep contrast to each other. An older man on his righthand side, in grey robes that ought to have been white at some point and a big, wooden cross rosary necklace around his neck. Father Tomos not too old though the troubles of court had robbed him of much vigour. His was the job of advising the informing the king and his kingdom of religious matters. Apparently keeping close communication with the Imperial Bishop and was often the only source of news regarding the Imperium itself.

Father Tomos had his arms and eyes crossed, shaking his head at the boy being driven in before them. Arthur could see him leaning in to whisper into Ogyrvan's ear, it was safe to say he was not a huge fan of Lord Ector's son, or the rest of the Victrix Horselords.

The person on the king's left, rolling her eyes at the priest's general sliminess was much older woman: with grey hair left naturally flowing, she held her age proudly, brown eyes like a badge of honour for her wisdom and experience. She was a Celtic woman, advising the king on many topics especially in the more magical aspects of the lands, though she refuted the idea that she was a druid. "The druids are gone," Lady Ganieda had once said to the young boy when he had come asking in between Latin studies. "Undone by the folly that effects all men."

"And what folly is that?"

The old lady gave the boy a hard stare. "War," was all she said.

At the very foot of the throne stood Cai and Arthur's Lord-father in full Imperial armour—a white long-sleeved gambeson, over which was a short-sleeved shirt of chainmail and then protected overall by a muscled cuirass of black hardened leather. His shoulders were draped by a cape of blood red fastened by a gold bullhead clasp.

Lord Ectorius Castus was a big man, tall like Caius with a thick neck propped upon strong broad shoulders, capping a broad and muscular body, despite his advanced age. A hero who had fought alongside High-King Ambrosius in the Battle of Badon Hill and the Battle along the Imperial Wall—grizzled, tired, hardened. Like his two sons, Ector fashioned a short and straight cut, slightly forked on his forehead, a staple of an Imperial trend, particularly in the armies. On his side was an empty scabbard and when he spotted it, fear gripped the adolescent boy even tighter.

"Father, Your Highness, sorry I'm late." Cai chucked his little brother to the king's feet. "Found the little gremlin lurking about the castle." He presented his father with the weapon that Arthur had stolen.

Lord Ector, ever the stoic, glared with indifference at his youngest boy with his arms crossed over his chest. Arthur made to say something, to apologise to his lord-father but the deepening stare from the old knight was all the incentive needed to shut him up again, possibly for good if Ector had his way. Lord of the Sixth Legion took back his ancestral blade and returned it to its sheath.

"Father, please. I can explain—"

One hand was raised by the Imperial knight and there was silence again.

Ogyrvan looked on with a bemused smirk, reclined in his seat as he watched the family feud taking place before him. "Now. Last night you raised a sword to a prince," said the king.

"No, Your Highness…I mean, yes, but—"

"No 'buts', boy. You raised a sword to a prince of the Lindum Colony, shattering a peace that was still in the works and trashing my streets in the process."

"But Lord-king—"

This time, Ector was the one who stomped his feet— the THUD did more to frighten him than any verbal threat. "For the love of God! Arthur!" Fear once again wrapped its talons around his carefree heart, the boy retreated into himself. "Please forgive my son's insolence, Your Highness. I assure you that his mother will personally see to his punishment."

King Ogyrvan 'The Giant' Leodegrance, stood from his seat and strong, deliberate yet slow strides, descended to meet the boy. True to his name, towered over his guests like a mountain among ferns and Arthur was already a tall boy for his age yet he only managed to reach Ogyrvan's waist. He tried to meet the king's eye from where he was.

"Hah!" The Giant heaved in laughter as he grabbed the boy by the shoulders. "He reminds me of what we were like when we were kids, isn't that right, Ector!"

Arthur felt like his racing heart had been drawn out and gotten stuck in his throat. Though the fear he held for the Giant persisted, it was now accompanied by confusion. He wasn't even sure if he was shaking or standing perfectly still.

Immediately, Ector's unapproving scowl turned a little, a knowing smirk shared by the two old men. "I wasn't nearly as bad as you, Lord."

"That's true. Always the honourable Lord Ectorius Castus."

For the moment, Arthur was almost lost among the nostalgia of the old warriors around him. He had the mind to just back away slowly, but he was immediately caught by Ogyrvan's large hands on his shoulders once again. He started to inspect the boy a little more, noting that he bore no resemblance to Ector or Cai.

"He is not of my blood, Highness," confessed the Knight Commander though not with shame. In fact, a hint of pride was seeping out the corner of his mouth. "We foster him as though he were our own."

King Ogyrvan then turned to the bashful you boy and inquired after his name.

"It's Arthur, Your Highness," he answered, finding the sudden urge to straighten up.

"Arthur?"

"Artorius, Your Grace," Ector clarified. "Artorius Castus. A strong, Imperial name borne by my ancient forebears, and Christian of course. A fact that I'm sure my son will bear in mind the next time the urge of stupidity sweeps before him. My wife is a Celt however, so she insists on calling him Arthur whenever she can. Her wild nature seeps in sometimes."

King Ogyrvan looked between his two advisors, then held his broad chest as he laughed aloud and clapping Ector's shoulder. "You Imperials are a peculiar lot, so formal. You lot wouldn't wipe your own arses without holding a ceremony for it."

Ector chuckled though very minimally, with the utmost restraint.

"I myself am still wrestling with the last vestiges of my heathenry. Guinevere keeps me Christian, least she tries. Alas, I commend the Lady Gwanwynn for keeping her lord native, seeing as your lot hasn't set foot in the Empire for a century now, Prydain is your home." Ogyrvan looked to the Lady Ganieda with a small smirk in the corner of his face. Against Bishop Tomos' pleas, Ogyrvan hadn't the heart to expel the Pagan Celts from his town. They existed in Caer Hoel, only barred from higher offices, save Ganieda. "Say what you want about the Cymry, but they have not forgotten the face of their forefathers and I throw no blame upon you or hers for the way this one turned out. He is not of your blood?"

Arthur couldn't tell if his father had just winced at the sting of his royal friend's words, or if he had simply shrugged his shoulders. Lord Ector was a man of few words, a proud practitioner of Marcus Aurelius' brand of stoicism…or a prideless practitioner for that matter. The commander of the Victrix knights was scarcely prey to intense emotions and his anger was always balanced by his empathy…or indifference. Ogyrvan's dismissal of Arthur was a bit more complicated.

Ector never spoke of this openly, never revealed even to the boy of how he came to be adopted. Wall's End was rife with rumour and gossip about the Master's mysterious new son and for a while it had circulated that he was Lord Ector's bastard and people thought to treat him as such. One word from Ector changed all that and Arthur became a new warrior for the Legion and like his father, he took the Christian God for his own, he became Castus.

They were a tightknit community at Wall's End, but out here was different. There was some resentment in Ogyrvan's voice whenever the king spoke of Cambria, being on the threshold of his kingdom with only a thick and equally dangerous forest to separate them. Why have Gwynedd to worry about when you can have bloodthirsty wolves and fae-folk gnawing on your face. Not to mention goblin raiders from the Eire getting so close to Caer Hoel as to set fire to Dinas Blaise in his northern borders.

Only bitter thoughts for the king. At once the king gestured for his advisors to come down to them. The king then started talking quietly to Ector, in vain as Arthur could hear their conversation clearly.

"…This is not a particularly good time for this, Ector."

"I know, Highness."

"From Fomorian goblins openly attacking my borders, Urien Rheged entering into a secret alliance with those beastly invaders, Deira siding with Anguls, while Brandagores remains silent, holed up in Loidis and Uther Pendragon does the same in his little sea-fort in the eastern shore." Ogyrvan released a deep breath of exasperation. "I am naked in the dark, Ector. And stricken with headaches."

"I can send some of my knights into the forest of Escetir and do a quick sweep tonight, Lord." When the king expressed his gratitude, Ector thought to bring the question of young Arthur's punishment.

To this, the old king chortled. "There was nothing done in the town last night that has not happened before, with twice as much deaths and destruction. Chief Wihstan's envoy assures me that it is not uncommon for the prince to partake in such…youthful expressions. A son after my own heart, I think." King Ogyrvan howled, shaking his head at them. "As for your boy's punishment— I don't know him enough to say what will suit his character, so, I leave him to your mercy, if I may."

Ector bowed to the king, then to his advisors, before grabbing Arthur by the collar as Cai had done. Arthur was not even permitted another word, especially in protest as he was escorted from the hall.

In the corridor as they left, Arthur saw the Anglen prince approaching with a handful of his retinue behind him. They were being escorted by Bedivere, one of Ogyrvan's men, though he did so begrudgingly, rolling his eyes from beneath his long hair and only Cai and Arthur could see.

What was not hidden however was the smirk, that obnoxious grin playing on Prince Wuffa's face. He had a very punchable face, Arthur decided.

"Don't try it, Arthur." Caius squeezed his arm. "Just look away and keep walking. Turn the other cheek."

So, he did. It took every ounce of will power in his body, but as the priests preach on Sunday, he let bygones be bygones. It was the most humiliating walk in his life…well, most humiliating so far. Yet still, the moment Arthur and Cai entered into their common room, they were set upon by two hard hands smacked against the back of their heads, and then their ears were held up in a vice grip.

"What were you two blockheads thinking?!"

"Mom, ouch, ow?!"

The enraged noblewoman cast her two boys before her. Slender hands found her hips and chastising eyes burned with fury over them. "I let you out for one night and you go and pick fights outside a tavern?!" She then pointed a single finger like a sharp dagger at the boys, particularly at her eldest who despite his tall frame seemed to shrink before her. "You were tasked, Caius Castus— no, entrusted, to keep an eye on you baby brother!"

"I'm not a baby anymore, mother—" Arthur tried to cut her off but that had become just another point on his list of mistakes of those past few days.

"Well, your actions beg to differ, Arthur!"

"It was a matter of honour, mother!"

"Yes well, honour can be found in places other than combat, you know." Lady Gwanwynn began to fuss over her foster son's bruises and wounds. "Look around a little and you'd find it easy enough… Oh for Rigantona's sake, Arthur, I thought you said you actually won the fight?"

A sharp chuckle escaped Cai's breath as he sat down by the dining table and began cleaning his longsword and coating it with an oil-drenched rag. When met with the furrowing brow of his mother, felt the need to clear his throat and lower his head.

Suddenly, their door was blasted open and Lord Ector charged into the room, aflame with rage. Immediately, Arthur shot up onto his feet and tried to shield himself.

"You boys just cannot keep to your own businesses, can you!" he roared, shoving his fourteen-year-old boy up against the wall. "O, why has God in Heaven forsaken me with two reckless, irresponsible and destructive sons?!"

"Father, please. You don't know Wuffa, like we do. He's a brute, a monster," Arthur whinged. "Even in Ichen he is notorious for his brutality; going town to town raiding taverns, assaulting women, yet he is never punished. Even when he transgresses his own father's laws he is bailed out. He's the luckiest bloke in Prydain."

"That's not luck, son," Ector replied. "That's pitiful. I pity the boy. Wihstan cares so little for his own son that he does not bother teaching him, disciplining him, building him up. Instead, he tolerated his own boy and when he gets tired of dealing with his own son, he just lets him loose like a hound. Pitiful. That, by no means, gives you the right to match his barbarity with foolishness."

"It was a matter of honour—"

"This is not one of your fairy stories, Arthur!" Ector raised his irate voice. "Do you believe that we live in the age of heroes and gentlemen? That this is the age of King Coal, or Rhydarc Hael, or the time of Christ Jesus himself?!"

"Father, I never meant to give King Ogyrvan any grief."

"Don't give me that shite, Arthur!" Lord Ector was not given to his boy's whims, either of them, even with his wife's half-effort to implore some calmness from him. He kept his dark brown eyes narrow and iron, down at his young boy. No one could mistake him for his son or Gwanwynn's, with his golden-red hair, bright blue eyes and fairer complexion, it was no secret he wasn't Ector's but he loved him as his own, and assumed he would acquire some of his stoic traits as Caius did. "You wanted to create strife and draw Ogyrvan's attention to Prince Wuffa. Do not think me deaf and blind, child?"

"So are we to just let Wuffa walk without consequence, and dishonour—"

"He is a prince, boy!" He could see veins popping on his father's brow. His mother even moved to intervene but was stopped by a single handed gesture from his knight-commander father. "Princes and Kings make little impact at Hadrian's Wall but this isn't the Wall. Here, those titles hold more power than you. Especially you—"

This time, Gwanwynn spoke out, her chastisement in the form of his father's name, used as knives at him. Ector sighed, allowing his shoulders to drop and his rage to recede again.

"Beyond that, and beyond your own desires and expectations, son—this world is filled with people like Prince Wuffa son of Wihstan, and might actually need men like him from time to time."

"For what?" Arthur inquired.

"Notoriety," Cai posited and Ector nodded.

"Men of savagery. Men that take without remorse or manners... much like when you saw fit to take my sword without my permission!"

Now that last offence Arthur could not defend and thought to speak up and to apologise, at least for stealing his father's ancestral weapon. Ector's tanned hand forbade him from opening his mouth again. He let out a loud whistle.

"Boys!" he roared and in came his marauding band of mischief.

Percival, Dagonet, Bors, Erec, Morien, Brunor and Dinadan all came in with head dropped in defeat before their commander. Speechless as any rebuttal he would have had was suddenly stuck in his throat.

"You became arrogant and showed your hand, son. You should have fought him, picked his pocket and lost. Watch him wonder where he'd put his little trophy while you were already in the wind." Arthur felt himself shrink further as his father approached, "Or better yet, you could have just kept your little nose out of people's business, least of all a king's."

When Lady Wynn saw that look on her beloved husband's tan face, she took the message and left the commons to the men, going off into the kitchens.

Now it was only the commander and his boys. That famous stare of his was hovering over them like beacons on a lighthouse, like the all-seeing eye of God. Each boy passed looks of terror with one another in anticipation for wrath. Arthur had already gotten a small taste of that wrath only moments ago, and he surely wasn't craving anymore.

"As it were. You are so, very lucky, the whole lot of you." Master Ectorius began pointing his finger at the young boys that continuously proved a pain in his backside. Feet planted firmly on the stone floor, his voice booming with monstrous fire. "You boys are not to be seriously punished. You will all be returned to the rank of squire as a penalty term. Your ranks will be reinstated to you one year hence."

There was a fury of groans and hissing of protest from the tempestuous young lads as they heard their sentence. Though even Arthur felt the punishment was disproportionate, seeing the sour look on Percival's face, he was compelled to keep his trap shut for once. He certainly did not mean to drag his friends into trouble.

Ector started to pace about with his hands behind his back. "All of you will report to your commanding knights for training and duties," his instructions were clear, aimed mostly at his two sons. "You all know the drill. From midday I will need Cai, Sagramor and Dandrane out patrolling the forest. That means that you three will be joining them," the old lord pointed at Percival, Dagonet and Arthur—the flint, the steel and the spark of most of his troubles.

When the boys cleared out of the room in a straight line, Lady Gwanwynn stood by the doorpost and smacked each child on the back of the head as they went through. With just Arthur, Cai and his father left, he was sure the old commander had more to say— to his surprise that only fuelled his anxiety, his Lord-father said nothing, simply giving out a loud and tired breath before nudging the boys to their bedchambers stomping out in a vexed huff accompanied by more soothing efforts from their mother before the doors closed.

For a moment the brothers fell silent. Cai walked over to his bed and continued to polish his blade, paying no mind to his frustrating younger sibling.

Then finally, Arthur let out a long, exasperated sigh as he slumped onto his bed. "Well, that was a relief. Don't you think?"

"Seriously?!"

"What? That could have gone a lot worse."

"Oh, so it's 'worse' that you want?" his older brother rose to his feet, his sword raised before him. "Do not forget, brother, that you are now my squire for one whole year. When I say jump, the only appropriate response I want out of you is 'Sir, yes, sir.'"

Arthur suddenly grew fearful of his brother, standing menacingly with his newly sharpened spatha. He laughed but Arthur was not oblivious to what Caius' temper looked like.

"Today, you and I are going into the Forest of Escetir. This should be fun."


DUX BELLORUM