2,99 €
Mehr erfahren.
- Herausgeber: Tami Veldura
- Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020
Norzin, Hunter of the Realm, favored of the King, was once banished from the kingdom he called home, but not before he saved the king's life and earned a reward. Now, thirty years later, the king is dead and his daughter rules with a bloody fist and Norzin has returned to claim the reward he was promised.
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Ähnliche
Table of Contents
Title Page
The King's Fortune
About The Author
Copyright
The King’s Fortune
By Tami Veldura
Norzin managed to enter the great hall attached to the end of a cluster of minor lords and their retinue, which meant his name wasn't specifically announced. He wore black and silver. A cotton brigandine next to the skin with a black leather cuirass fitted for his broad shoulders and square shape. He had left the pauldrons in favor of a dark half-cape clipped over his right shoulder and draped down behind his left knee. His dominant left hand was free to draw sword or knife, both peace-tied in the presence of the queen and her daughter. He wore light leather greaves and tight boots, all in black. Around his neck draped two silver chains: the interlinked mail of a Hunter, and a flat, plait chain of one favored by the former king, long dead. Between black and silver, Norzin's status as an independent—one not affiliated with any of the lords—stood clear, but his work as a Hunter stood out more.
No other lord had been allowed to keep their sword and knives, peace-tied or otherwise.
Since anyone of any standing wanted to represent their house, Norzin was surrounded by gold, red, blue, and green, flashy trim, embroidered crests, hats and hair with tall feathers. He tried his best to remain inconspicuous by skirting the center of the great hall and approaching the dais from the left side. While torches and candle chandeliers lit the center of the hall, overlapping drapery shadowed the edges where the servants flitted in and out of their side doors. Lords never did like seeing how their glittering lifestyles were upheld.
Tight, showy laughter, good-natured taunting, and the quieter mutters of scheming overlapped like waves in a lake, rippling over and under each other. From the south corner, a string quartet played something jaunty and popular with two violins, a cello, and a dulcimer.
A servant, dressed in undyed cotton and linen and carrying an empty pitcher raced out of the press of lords and bumped into Norzin. He caught her by the shoulders among her breathless apologies, but before he could soothe her embarrassment she curtsied with the edge of her apron and dashed behind him, holding the pitcher close.
Norzin threaded closer to the two high-backed chairs at the back of the great hall. The queen's chair sat empty. Made of some dark wood, its arm rests were polished with age and use, the cushion of the seat freshly upholstered in red, and three blue gems were set into the crown-like peak of the back. The former king once confided in Norzin that they were nothing but polished glass, a showy piece of finery that might distract a lesser thief.
The princess's chair stood a fine two feet shorter than her mother's, and she occupied it's dark seat with a bit of a slouch. Her not-quite blonde hair had been done up with loops and plaits, and dotted with jewels. Rather than occupy her time with needlepoint or crochet, the princess held a small knife in one hand and a chunk of wood in the other. A chunk that had already been half-carved into something like a horse. Bits and flecks of wood decorated the princess's elegant green dress from chest to lap, and two completed figurines stood on the table before her, proof that she'd been at this for a while already.
The first appeared to be a bear standing on rear legs. The second, a wolf or large dog with a wicked snarl.
From his half shadow, Norzin watched the princess whittle carefully at her horse, cutting into the wood here, shaving it carefully there. Notching the fine angle of the hock and a curving swish of the tail. Only when she turned it over twice, looking for finishing details, did he step toward the raised platform on which she sat and offered a half-bow.
"You have a fine eye for crafting," he said.
