Path Of The Broken

18. Ryan's Benefactor

18

Ryan's Benefactor

Marcus grimaced as he watched the men bumble their way through the new drills; attempting to use the veil was distracting them all. Even knowing they would do better with consistent practice, he still found it frustrating.

“Matthew, enough you already have those drills down, so I have a task for you.” Marcus kept his focus on the training grounds

“Captain?” Matthew sheathed his sword as he walked towards him.

“There’s a boy, Ryan, that his Highness Prince Alex left with the healers. They tell me he is ready to be released from the medical wing.” Marcus turned his focus to Matthew. “Go fetch him and put him in a room in the empty barracks we just had cleaned out. Then see that he gets to the scholars’ training rooms, they are expecting him.”

Matthew raised his eyebrow, grinning. “Sure, Marcus. Do you want me to see he gets outfitted? I take it since he is staying with us he’ll be doing blade work as well?”

Marcus grinned. That was one of the traits he liked about Matthew: he was quick on the uptake.

“Joshua has organised the lad’s wardrobe, but yes, blades if he doesn’t have any. He’ll do blade work with us and some rudimentary training in control and use of the veil. According to His Highness and the healers, the lad has power. Make sure he settles in this week and can find everything he needs here in the palace.” Marcus waved a hand in dismissal as Matthew snapped a salute and turned, heading off to attend to the tasks he’d been given.

Ryan sat on the edge of his cot, his hand running nervously over his new vest and shirt. The new clothes had just appeared this morning, and his old clothes were nowhere to be found. The old healer, Aaron, assured him that everything had been settled and he didn’t need to worry. Of course, that didn’t stop him from worrying. He may have come from an incompetent failed merchant family, but even he could tell the fabric was of much finer quality than he’d ever worn.

His mind turned to his unexpected benefactor and who he could possibly be. This room with its stark white utilitarian walls and no windows didn’t help at all; it was a small utilitarian room without much more than his sleeping cot. Whenever he’d asked the healer who the man was, he had just smiled and ignored the question. This morning he’d been told he was being released and that he should wait, someone would be by to pick him up.

Ryan looked up expectantly as the door to his small bare room opened. A young man stood there, one who looked a few years older than he was, yet they couldn’t be more different. Ryan swallowed. His visitor was wearing a uniform that bore what he was sure was one of the royal crests. He just didn’t know which one.

“Ryan? I’m Matthew. Come on, I’ve been ordered to show you to your room and then to the scholars’ classes. You’ll be late for today's lessons, but that certainly isn’t your fault.” Matthew stood aside, smiling encouragingly.

“Thank you, Matthew.” Ryan stood and followed Matthew. Looking around a little wide-eyed, he realised he’d been in a private room of a larger room that had a long line of cots spaced down the wall.

Matthew glanced at him. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. It won’t take you long to learn your way around.”

“Where is here?” Ryan swallowed, hoping that Matthew wouldn’t think him strange for not knowing.

Only the raising of his guide’s eyebrows gave away his surprise at the question.

“You’re in the Summer Palace in Callenhain.”

Ryan stopped in astonishment, staring at Matthew, trying to work out if he was kidding, yet he couldn’t think of a reason why Matthew would lie about something like that.

He swallowed nervously. “Who is he? The man who brought me here?”

A slow grin spread on Matthew’s lips. “I believe it was His Highness, Prince Alexander.”

Ryan felt sure he’d gone pale, his mind repeating the name of the man who’d saved him in his head over and over again. Ryan realised he’d been correct about the crest on Matthew’s uniform. He wasn’t just any kind of ordinary guard. He was one of the Elite.

“He’s the youngest son of the king, why would he save my life? I’m nobody.” Ryan was incredulous, continuing along the hallway as Matthew placed a hand on his back to gently guide him forward.

“His Highness obviously doesn’t think so. Come on, the barracks isn’t far.” Matthew continued to lead him through the palace, pointing out things of interest along the way.

Ryan, for his own part, barely paid attention, his mind still grappling with the knowledge that the dangerous man in the cloak had been Prince Alexander. His eyes widened as he realised that Tyron had tried to rob the prince. Not that he’d known who the man in the cloak had been; he’d just wanted the money he was sure his mark was carrying.

Ryan packed up his lesson book and pen from the table at the end of the day’s lessons. His life had settled into a routine here in the palace, although his head still spun when he thought about the changes in his life. He had a small room to himself in what he’d learned was the barracks of the Fourth’s Elite. It was just big enough for a small bed, a desk and wardrobe. The wardrobe had been filled with clothes—they’d just appeared—all of such fine quality he knew he’d never be able to afford to buy them.

He had lessons with the scholar a couple of days a week, and he was doing much better with his lessons with the scholar than his other classes. To his amazement, he was being drilled in sword work, including practice with the use of the veil. He’d been shocked to discover all of the Elite used the veil, and even more stunned to learn he was much better with the use of the power—once he started practising—than he was with a sword. It had been hard to go from hiding what he was and could do to openly practising. Well, openly at least in the company of the Elite. It was strange for him to think there was something he could do that others could possibly value.

Walking from the room, he felt himself jostled and stumbled into the wall, looking up to laughter as some of his classmates sailed past him.

“Careful, orphan boy! I doubt you can afford to pay for my clothes if you damage them.” Branton sneered at him as he passed, his friends clapping him on the back and laughing.

Ryan looked up as some of the girls swept past him, sniffing in disdain and laughing outright at Branton’s quip.

“Don’t get too comfortable here, boy. I’ve told my father that we have a peasant boy in our classes. You won’t be here long.” Kelly flipped her hair over her shoulder, her skirts rustling as she went back to ignoring him.

He’d learnt that those he shared classes with were the sons and daughters of the peers of the realm. They’d found out he didn’t share their lofty heights quickly and had set about trying to make his life miserable. Ryan had chosen to ignore them all. He didn’t know how long he would be allowed to take these lessons here in the palace, but he was determined to make the most of it. Little did they know their sniping had little impact on him. He had a roof over his head, as much food as he wanted to eat, he had lessons with the scholar and learning a valuable skill training with swordsmen that were counted among the best.

Ryan straightened his shoulders and nodded. He wouldn’t let them distract him. He had a goal in mind, but to get to it, he knew he’d have to work as hard as he could to prove himself worthy.