Prince Selbin was ten years old, and the only “soldier” in
the Ten Guards who was younger than Loki Heiler. Despite this,
however, he was a captain. The adjutant to the princess—his sister—herself,
with an ego to match.
“If arrogance were cause for removing a soldier’s rank,” the
princess had said, when Commander Burke had first brought forward her
less-than-subtle issue with the prince’s attitude, “you would have been cast
out of this city before my brother were ever born.”
“If this was about him being arrogant,” Commander Burke had
replied, “I wouldn’t be talking about it! I’d be teaching him how to do it
right!”
“You must admit,” Sister Belmont said now, so many hours later,
after ignoring and returning to the subject of Selbin more than ten times in
the same day, “that His Highness is reaching the age when proper training would
be ... beneficial.”
“I know he is young,” put in Commander Breckenridge,
still seated, “and you wish to protect him. But if he is to hold rank, he must
earn it. Royal blood or not.”
“Proper training can only help him, Your Majesty,” Sister Belmont said. “It would be no different from any other apprenticeship. You would not
have our prince, the next in line for succession, claim the title of Socialite,
would you? Is that what our city deserves?”
Princess Selena still looked thoroughly nonplussed, but her
anger had cooled.
Somewhat.
“Who should train him?” came a new voice, belonging to
Commander Joleen Dalton.
Silence reigned.
The princess finally spoke again, in tones of quiet
finality.
“... Big Olrec.”
* * *
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