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  Heir to the Throne

  Book Two: The Chronicles of Arandor

  Copyright© Andrew G. Wood

  2018

  ISBN: 9781726680196

  All Rights Reserved.

  Special thanks to the following people for giving up their time to help and support me in writing this book :

  Claire Wood

  Adam Dakin

  Claire Kinrade

  Emma Carter

  Regions & Nobles of Arandor.

  Region HouseMain town/City

  Northern Marches Romley Whitmore

  Alborough Fallon Durston

  Alnor Casley Hingham

  Cardell Winter Norsall

  Casillian Isle Dalby Port Exley

  Muria Ashton Cannersley

  Eastern Range Mangilly Cottershill

  Scarwood Oakley Garley

  Endallen Elthan Bargsea

  Brenthellin Royal Lands Miranor

  Prologue.

  Having been hastily taken from the palace in Miranor after the murder of his parents, Luca was slowly adapting to a very different lifestyle. While the threat to his own life had thus far been thwarted, it was very much still an ongoing thing. With his movements restricted, his time in Garley would have been unbearable if not for the people around him. While still missing all the fanciful things a palatial royal residence offered, he was glad at least to be alive, and with people who seemed to care for him.

  Lord Oakley of Scarwood and Lord Dalby of the Casillian Isle had seen to his safety and protection. While Lord Elthan was apparently trying his damndest to remove Luca from existence, these two seemed intent on making sure he didn’t succeed. With one battle, of sorts, already fought, which had seen Lord Oakley leading a small army to ambush a force sent by Lord Elthan, the question was not whether another attack would come, but when. With soldiers of both noblemen patrolling every inch of Garley to keep the prince safe from harm, other nobles were now preparing their own armies for the fighting to come.

  Lord Elthan of Endallen, having schemed and planned along with his sister, was still in control of the palace. Fronted by Luca’s half-sister, Elysia, to give the impression she was the one in command, Lord Elthan was now determined to see that Luca was terminated. Knowing that the boy’s existence would threaten, not only his plans but his own life and that of his family, time was now of the essence. With the nobles of the kingdom apparently gearing up for a fight and siding with the prince, it seemed his tenure as ruler might be shortlived.

  However, with his sister, Loretta, having her dark powers, it did give them a slight edge. While not everything had worked out as they had planned, it was hoped those that followed her could perhaps swing things back in their favour. The cultists that perceived her as their leader were fanatical, to say the least, and often quite happy to throw their own lives away in her service. The dark witchcraft and magic she used often meant sacrifices needed to be made, and being as they were in the capital, there were plenty on hand to use.

  Chapter 1.A shunned ally.

  Lord Fallon of Alborough stood on the balcony of his home in Durston. There was a certain sharpness to the air as he felt the slight chill on his skin, a sign that perhaps the summer months were coming to an end. The skies above were still clear blue with barely a cloud in sight, yet it somehow felt as if the autumnal months were approaching. If that were the case, the flowers in his large garden would die off, and the leaves on the trees that bordered his home would soon start to fall, and all the brightness and colour would be gone, at least for a few months.

  Having had his son rejected by the young woman now claiming to reside on the throne, he had thought long and hard on whether to act on the recent atrocities. Although somewhat peeved that his own son had been merely brushed aside in favour of Lord Elthan’s in claiming the hand of the princess, he did not hold any ill feelings towards the royal family. Now that the king and queen were dead, apparently killed by cultists who had infiltrated the palace during the royal wedding, he needed to show where his allegiances lay.

  Having received letters from the other nobles, stating that both the prince and the older of the two princesses still lived, it seemed not all was as it had first been portrayed. Although not having a problem with Lord Elthan or his family, at least not until recent events, Lord Fallon had now decided it was this very man who was to be held responsible. Regicide and treason were terrible crimes, and all the evidence was that Lord Elthan and his family were guilty of both. While some might have thought that just because his son had been slighted by the princess, that he would have no love for the royal family, the opposite was actually true.

  Lord Fallon always considered himself to be a noble and honourable man, and while the princess may have insulted his family by refusing his son’s hand in marriage in favour of another, that did not make him any less loyal to those his family had served for centuries. The house of Fallon had long governed the lands of Alborough under the rulership of various kings and queens, and he was no different in that regard. Yes, having his house tied to the royal family would have been nice, and certainly a feather in the cap when it came to oneupmanship with the other nobles, but it did not change his allegiances either way.

  The news that Lord Elthan had a sister who practised dark magic was also somewhat disturbing. Lord Fallon was much the same as the other nobles when it came to dealing with such people. While he had tried his best to keep the cults from popping up on his lands, it seemed no quicker had he extinguished one such group when another appeared elsewhere. While it was only usually a handful of people involved each time, the fact that they existed at all was very worrying. However, with his own forces slowly amassing, some interesting news had recently reached him. Somewhat surprisingly, two areas he knew to be rife with cultists and were next on his list to sort out, were suddenly now free from their grasp. The groups of cultists had seemingly packed up and left, leaving the villages they had been terrorising to rebuild in peace.

  As to why this was happening, Lord Fallon had no idea. Surely word couldn’t have got through to them that he intended to attack soon? Ordinarily, he did manage to catch the cultists by surprise, but he supposed it was possible that they had somehow found out his intentions. Yet for both groups to simply get up and go did seem a bit odd, even for such people who worshipped death. However, over a cup of tea earlier that morning, Lord Fallon had thought of another reason as to why the cultists had suddenly gone from his lands. Perhaps they had been summoned or commanded by whoever led them to move elsewhere? Perhaps even amalgamate with other cult groups to make a bigger force? If the latter were true, then that would pose a very different kind of threat to the one he and the other nobles seemed to manage to keep under their control. An army of cultists, many of whom were probably skulking around the local populace would be a far greater threat, and one he needed to guard against.

  Lord Fallon watched as his son, Elliot, come into view, walking solemnly on his own around the gardens. The boy had taken the princess’s marriage rebuke well at first, but now he just seemed to have become withdrawn from the world. Feeling the lad’s pain, he thought to catch up with him later and have a chat about it. Alas, for now, Lord Fallon needed to focus on the immediate matters at hand, and ready his forces should they be needed. With Lord Romley of the Northern Marches already making plans to move his troops across Brenthellin lands, he now needed to decide whether he was willing to do likewise, and if so, how best to go about it.

  Elliot was a young man of eighteen years, and up until a few months ago, life had seemed so good it was almost unreal. With a flourishing romance with the youngest of the princesses, it was thought by most that he might one day be the man to marry her. However, for whatever reason, those early dates w
ith Princess Elysia that had appeared to go so well were now just a distant memory. For reasons only known to the king and the princess, they instead had turned to Lord Elthan’s son Frederick, and the rest, as they say, is history. Elliot had often wondered why the young lady who had seemed to adore him one moment had changed her mind so quickly.

  At first, Elliot had merely been shocked at the sudden rebuke and change in the situation, but now since the wedding, he felt lost. With short brown curly hair and hazel eyes, he had always thought himself to be fair as far as looks went. Moreover, and probably more important, he also considered himself a fair and honourable young man. Frederick Elthan, however, could be classed as neither, making it all the more puzzling as to why the princess had chosen him. Through the corner of his eye Elliot could see his father standing on the balcony looking down at him, and not wanting to know he had been seen, Elliot turned away slightly and continued his slow walk between the flowerbeds of the garden.

  With a cool feeling to the air, Elliot ambled towards the hedges that gave the area its borders, his head hung low as he took each step slowly. Knowing he would be out of sight of his father’s gaze, he dropped down onto one of the wooden benches that were placed around the garden. Closing his eyes and holding his head back slightly he allowed his other senses to the fore. The feeling of the air on the skin of his face, although a little cooler than normal, felt good. A slight rustling of leaves as the merest of breezes blew through the trees that were lined around the perimeter of the family home, and here and there the calling of a bird singing its morning chorus. Elliot held his pose for several moments as he allowed his recent worries to ease away.

  As much as the rejection hurt him, Elliot knew he needed to stop feeling so sorry for himself. After all, with all the recent troubles in the palace perhaps it was better he was not part of it. Yet, apparently, according to his father, it was now believed that Lord Elthan was somehow manipulating the princess, using her as a front to taking control of the kingdom. If that were the case, these were worrying times indeed. Now he thought about it, perhaps the princess had in some way been forced to change her mind about him. While it was not knowing these reasons as to why she had so flatly refused any further advances that upset him, Elliot knew that he would probably never find out the real reasoning. While feeling sorry for himself, had, at least up until now, seemed the only thing left for him to do, now the trickle of information was spreading about Lord Elthan and his son, he found a new purpose.

  Swiftly standing as if all his energies were renewed and all self-pity had left his body, Elliot walked with pace around the garden path towards the main house. Seeing that his father was no longer standing on the balcony above him, he headed for a side door that took him through the kitchens. As per usual, the place was a hive of activity, with cooks and their assistants probably preparing for the next meal. The air was somewhat too hot, although filled with a mixture of various aromas from the food being cooked, none more so prominent as the smell of freshly baked bread. As Elliot passed between the counters, those that spotted him gave an acknowledging bow of their heads, stopping their chores for just the briefest of moments, before returning to their task as soon as he passed them by.

  “Do you require anything making my Lord?” Came the rather deep booming voice.

  Elliot, who had not really been paying too much heed as to who was where almost bumped into the man now blocking his way. Standing over six feet in height, and probably twice the width of Elliot, with shoulders more suited to a soldier than the head cook, the man looked down awaiting a reply. Although somewhat intimidating to look at, Elliot merely smiled, “No, thank you, Henry, I’m just passing through.”

  While Henry disliked people using his kitchen as a thoroughfare, being as Elliot was the Master’s son meant he would get away with just a stern stare.

  “As you wish, my Lord,” Henry replied, sidestepping just slightly to allow him to pass out through the door that led into one of the dining rooms.

  The air in here was much cooler, although still very much having the variety of cooking smells upon it. Used mainly as the less formal eating room by his family, it was unsurprisingly empty, although the staff had already set the placings on the table for the next meal. The two large windows on the far wall let in ample enough light to give the room a good bright and airy feel, but with real purpose in his step, Elliot headed for the set of plain white doors that led out into the corridor. Unsure as to where his father had gone, he tried to work out the most likely places and thought to try the office first of all.

  Stepping aside to allow two of the housemaids to pass, and being as they both had their hands fully laden with freshly laundered bedding, they gave him only the briefest of acknowledgements. With various other doorways to other rooms situated along the main corridor of the vast family home, Elliot had little time to gaze upon the numerous paintings that adorned the walls. Having seen and studied each and every one of them a dozen times or more at some point in his young life, they were now just seen as something that gave the place a bit of colour. Small oasis’ of life on what were otherwise drab plain whitewashed walls.

  Arriving at a half-open door, Elliot gave it a slight knock before peering inside the room.

  “Ah, Elliot, come on in,” his father said looking up from some papers he was reading on his desk. The office was quite a drab affair when compared to other parts of the house. With most of the furniture being brown and unpainted and the wall that housed the fireplace left as unplastered stonework, it always appeared to Elliot that this room looked unfinished. However, his father didn’t seem to mind and being as the man seemed to spend half of his life in there, he guessed it wasn’t a problem for him.

  “How are you feeling today?”

  Elliot knew immediately to what his father was referring to, but since his little moment of peaceful contemplation, he actually felt much better.

  “I’m fine, father. May I ask something of you?” Elliot replied unsure as to how his father would take the next part of the conversation.

  “Sure, what can I do for you?”

  “I’d like to lead our troops when we head to Brenthellin lands, to remove Lord Elthan!” Elliot said quickly while he had the courage in him to ask such a thing.

  “Ah!” was the only answer Lord Fallon could come up with, evidently having been caught slightly off guard.

  “If I’m completely honest, I haven’t decided what we’re actually going to do yet. I am still liaising with Lord Romley of the Northern Marches as to our next move.”

  “But we will have to remove Lord Elthan and his son from the palace won’t we?”

  Lord Fallon knew exactly what his son meant, and while he was glad he had rediscovered his drive for life, wasn’t so sure about his motives. Clearly, Elliot wanted revenge against Frederick Elthan, and although it was true the man needed to be removed, Lord Fallon wasn’t certain his son was yet in the right frame of mind. Merely charging across royal lands with hundreds of soldiers towards the palace was likely to end up causing far more trouble, and possibly embroil, yet, more nobles into a war some were trying to avoid.

  Lord Fallon tapped his fingers on the top of his desk as he pondered what to do. The sound was somewhat rhythmic, although repetitive. While he knew his son needed something such as this to keep him from feeling sorry for himself, the timing was not yet right to allow what he asked. While some fathers might have considered allowing their son to fight in any potential war a terrible thing to do, Lord Fallon was of the belief it was a good thing. Not only would it help his son become a man, he thought it would help build character and more importantly respect and honour.

  “Regan is readying the soldiers outside of the city, overseeing their preparations. Why don’t you go and join him?”

  Elliot nodded. Regan Kormant was the commander of his father’s forces, a man he respected, and despite his gruff exterior one he quite liked.

  “Regan is in command though. You understand? You will be the
ir… for the experience.”

  Elliot nodded once more, “I understand father.”

  Chapter 2. A New Threat.

  Luca’s time in Garley had become somewhat monotonous, with his movements as restricted now as much as they had ever been. However, thanks to those around him, his time there was much more pleasant than it would have otherwise been, with his new friends seemingly going out of their way to make sure he was okay. Whether they did so of their own accord or whether told to do so by their respective parents, Luca didn’t know. All of them, apart from Nerina, seemed to want to spend as much time with him as they could. As to whether she would ever change her mind about liking him, Luca was becoming increasingly doubtful. Quite why she appeared to avoid him as much as possible, he was uncertain, but it seemed she had never really liked him from the off. Even during their escape from the palace, she had seen fit to make as many snidey remarks as possible, despite all his best efforts to be nice and tolerant.

  Anis, who had been, albeit briefly, a cultist had revealed all he knew about the way they operated to Lord Oakley. While in truth this had been substantially much less than the nobleman had hoped for when making the proposition of taking the boy back to Garley with him, it did give a general view of how things were run. Seemingly every group of cultists were headed by a leader who in turn was directed by somebody controlling matters on a regional level. As to who controlled those, Lord Oakley could only make a guess, but he was certain it would lead back to Lord Elthan’s sister somewhere up the chain of command. Although not yet having proof this was the case, the behaviour of the cultists since Lord Elthan’s little gamble to attempt to control the kingdom had changed dramatically.