Page 11 of Knight from the Ashes (Crown and Crest 1)

“It sounds as if you have a fine grasp of it already,” I answer.

“There will be time for that later,” King Algernon says heavily. “For now, Bartholomew, you will accompany Henrik as he oversees a supply trip up to Fortress Lintanry.”

My stomach sinks. A supply run to the northern mountains is a tedious assignment, the command of which is usually given to aging knights and often takes several weeks to complete. There isn’t the slightest chance I will earn my seal with the mission.

Bartholomew turns to me, grinning. “Up into the Dorian Mountains? It sounds like a grand adventure, doesn’t it, Henrik?”

“Grand,” I manage.

“Bartholomew,” Algernon says, “Why don’t you go home and prepare—tell your mother you’ll be gone for a while.”

The boy turns on his heel to face his uncle and gives him a curt bow. “As you command, Uncle. I thank you for giving me this new opportunity to grow.”

With a frown, the king nods him out of the room.

After the door closes, Algernon sighs. “His mother begged me to transfer him to someone with a bit more patience than Lawrence. I know you’re not a knight yet, but you’re the only man who came to mind. You’ll watch over him, won’t you? He’s all my sister-in-law has left. I fear someday I will learn the boy accidentally shot himself with his own crossbow.” He shakes his head. “And heaven help us all—in four years when he comes of age, the boy will be at the head of our military.”

“I’m honored to be chosen, and I will protect him and train him for his future position as well as I am able,” I vow.

Though I do fervently wish someone else had come to his mind.

“I know you will.” He pauses. “I’m sorry about your seal, Henrik. You’ve worked hard.”

“It will mean little if I don’t earn it,” I assure him.

He nods, but he still looks regretful. Then, changing the subject, he says, “We’ve heard of trouble in the mountains. That’s why I’m assigning you to the supply run.”

“What kind of trouble?” I ask, my interest piqued.

“Rumors mostly. People are saying the aynauths are on the move.”

“Aynauths? They rarely leave their territory.”

Algernon nods. “I’m not certain there’s much to the gossip, but I would like you to speak with the local guards. Perhaps scout a bit while you’re up there. Return to me with any information you can glean.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Sensing the audience is finished, I turn to leave.

“Henrik,” he says before I’m to the door. “Take heart. I am certain you will earn your seal soon.”

I swallow my disappointment and nod. “Thank you, sire.”

6

Henrik

Preparingfor a supply run into the mountains is like herding flockchicks. I stand in the courtyard, list in hand, surveying the madness. The morning is brisk but quickly warming, and soon I’ll have to shed my cloak.

Men and maids go every which way, in absolutely no semblance of order, carrying crates, baskets, and bulging leather bags. They load eight large wagons with dry goods, caged fowl, and various supplies, all of which we’ll bring to the guard post.

A nearby donkey brays, loudly protesting the load that’s secured to his back, and the goats decide to join in his racket.

Just as a headache begins to form at the base of my skull, Bartholomew steps up beside me, looking bright-eyed and far too eager.

“What fun,” he exclaims, and the fool boy sounds like he heartily means it.

I give him a sideways look and frown before returning my attention to the supply list.

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