Excalibur's Seven - Chapter 2: Chapter 2

MUSIC RANG THROUGH THE air as the village rejoiced in celebration. Today was the one-hundred and fiftieth Mage Trials. Every leap year, the most powerful Gifteds from all over the kingdom would come to the castle of Avalon to test their skills and find who is worthy to serve in the Circle of Mages, the highest office a magic-wielding citizen could dream of. It was a reason to celebrate, a beacon in the ever-growing darkness of the kingdom.
But Prince Kristofer was not one for frivolous celebrations.
"Faster, Kit," Lord Herwerde demanded, jabbing his sword in Kit's direction.
"I'm going as fast as I can, but we've been at this all day. My arms are tired."
Lord Herwarde paused and lowered his sword, stepping closer with that squint Kit knew so well. "Who are you and what have you done to the Prince?"
Kit rolled his eyes and sat down on a nearby bench. "I'm sorry," he started. "I think I'm just having an off day."
"I can see that." Herwerde sat beside him and offered him a jug of water. Kit took it happily. "Well, I'm just glad you're giving yourself a break for once. You're not gonna get any better if you keep going far beyond your body's limits. You're just gonna—"
"'Hurt myself and set myself back,' yeah, I know," he interjected. "Hey, don't turn this into a lecture or it won't happen again."
His tone was serious, but Lord Herwerde must've seen right through his stone face as he cracked open a smile, pulling one from Kit's own golden cheeks.
"I think you'd better get ready for the trials anyways, they're expecting to see you there."
Kit stood up and  shed his chestplate. "No one ever expects to see me anywhere."
"That's not true."
The prince fixed him with a stare.
"I expect to see you. Now go clean yourself up, you don't want to be smelling like swine in front of the entire Gifted population." He gave the prince a playful shove with the butt of his jug and sent him on his way.
The last thing Kit wanted was to be seen in front of such an important crowd. The king never hesitated to criticize him in front of crowds, it was like his way of proving to his citizens that he knew how to keep his 'troublesome' second prince in line.
"Your bath is ready," said the gentle maid who had escorted him to the washroom. He stepped inside and slid off his clothes, sinking into the warm water.
"Leave me," he bellowed, and all the maids dropped their chores and scurried away.
Sometimes he felt he was too harsh on the servants. But if there was anyone who saw any sort of authority with him, it was them. No one else thought him anything more than a rich civilian that, unfortunately, shared a title with their beloved Connor. So perhaps he did indulge himself a bit in ordering the poor workers around.
He couldn't spend long soaking in the warm water and oils like he wanted to, because the trials would begin shortly and he needed to look ready. He let the manservant dress him, let the maids fix up his hair, and in no time, he looked like a real prince. It would feel a lot better if that was true.
By the time the mages started filing into the ballroom, Kit was slumped in his chair, which had to be brought into the room from another so he'd have a spot to be. The others had their thrones readily available.
It made Kit's stomach churn whenever he saw his brother sitting so comfortably in their mother's throne. She only died two years ago and he was already past it, like he was just waiting for her to be gone.
Before he could spiral into thoughts of grief and the desire to commit a public fratricide, Kit turned his attention to the mages, now all seated at the long, decorated tables. The ceremonies were about to begin.
The King rose from his throne, looking down upon the Gifted. They all rose to bow, but he waved them off.
"Gifted Citizens of Avalon," he began, letting his voice settle into the silence before he continued. "I am honored to be your king, to stand before you at this year's Mage Trials."
He steps down from his platform, pacing through the rows of tables. He begins to announce the process of the trials, the tests of body, mind, and spirit.
A particular Gifted with fiery red hair, a druid called Chalice Daines from the village of Fells, could not find it in them to pay attention. They already knew the process, they'd studied it a thousand times. They were more than ready for these trials.
But there was something else keeping their attention, something else they couldn't ignore. The young prince, that's who was drawing their attention the most. A darkly dressed man at the end of their table was prodding at them with a strange dark energy, the opposite as the golden-haired Kristofer. There was something about both of these men, but Chalice didn't know what.
They tuned back to the King, just in time to hear him announce the first test.
This was a test of body. The physical abilities, the outward effects of their magic. It was also a test of the body's response to magic, how much of it a vessel could take without breaking. This one would be easy for Chalice.
They brought a dove back to life, caused a man to get a feeling he wasn't feeling before, predicted several strikes of a sword, and heard the sound of a mouse squeaking over a cheerful crowd. The magic had not once taken a toll on their body.
The next test was a test of the mind. This one was far more challenging, but they knew they could do it. They read a man's tragic past, even glimpsed his future. They allowed themself into the darkest parts of several minds at once, listening to the thoughts wrack their brain. They faced several fears head on, and guessed what fruit the King was thinking of. This involved a test of academics as well, which they passed with flying colors.
The real challenge arose with the test of spirit. Of good and evil, of loyalty and faith, of the bravery and passion in a person. Chalice didn't think they were all that special beyond their brains and their magic. The test of spirit wasn't something they could study for. It was about who they were.
The nagging feeling returned again, this time stronger. The dark man was nowhere to be seen, but the younger prince was studying the trials more up close now. There was something about him that called to Chalice, but it wasn't clear what it was.
Before they could think too much about it, there grew an uproar within the palace walls. The prince jumped to his feet, awaiting no instruction before he darted after the commotion.
The call only grew stronger, so much so it was making the druid dizzy. They couldn't focus on their trial anymore. And with a move that would surely crush everything they'd worked for in the past twenty years, they followed the prince.
"The thief! She went this way!" Kit called out, leading his men down a corridor. The girl dashed away to the courtyard, clutching something in her hand that she seemed very keen on keeping.
He followed her as she made her reckless escape through the front gate, slipping beneath the portcullis just before it slammed shut against her. She was lucky there were guards in the gate with her, else she'd either be burned by boiling oil or large rocks thrown from the holes in the ceiling.
A bit excessive for a thief, Kit wanted to think, but then again, no simple thief was that good at getting into the castle with such ease.
He followed after her, lifting the portcullis himself and charging towards the gate. It was a miracle she made it out without an arrow through the skull, but soon she was darting through the trees. Most gave up on the pursuit, but Kit didn't know what that meant. He pressed on.
She was so quick on her feet, so light and agile that he had to wonder where a commoner like her learned to move like that. He almost got caught up in the logistics of it all, but he kept his mind on his task. Several times he'd nearly reached her, but each time she dodged it.
She jumped a river as though she hoped to lose kit, but he was just as determined, leaping after her and continuing the chase that felt like it would never end.
But then it did.
Some invisible force brought the thief to her knees. Not in pain, but certainly in weakness. She dropped the book she carried, holding herself up against the ground with her hands.
"What the hell?" he heard her groan. They both looked up at the same time to see a bright red head of hair standing a few feet away, eyes locked onto the woman.
After overcoming his initial shock, Kit picked up the woman and the book, pulling out rope to tie her hands up. The ginger seemed to have released her from their stare, and Kit gave a grateful nod.
"Thank you, sir—er, ma'am, uh—" He suddenly felt awkward.
"You choose," they replied and left it at that.
Kit nodded and led the thief back through the woods and to the castle, the mage trailing behind him. He'd noticed them earlier, they seemed to be doing well. He had to wonder why they stepped away and risked their place in the trials just to help him catch a book thief.
"So, what were you going to do with this book?" Kit asked the thief.
"Aren't I supposed to get a formal interrogation? I'm pretty sure this is not the time nor place for that. Unless you plan to chop my head off as so as we get back to the castle."
"I was just curious," he mumbled. "But don't threaten me with a good time."
The thief laughed.
As they neared the castle walls, it had truly settled in what he'd just done. He left abruptly and caused a scene, led a mage away from the trials, and took over the job of the castle guards for a few brownie points. Knowing the King, capturing a thief wouldn't be nearly enough to outweigh the severity of everything else he did. It was just be another thing he did wrong.
They got to the castle then, and Kit led the thief through the gate, handing her off to the guards. He watched her jet black hair fade away before he finally made his way towards the keep once more.
Eyes were set on the two of them as they returned to the room. Kit almost felt guilty on behalf of the mage. Their chance was ruined because of him.
"Chalice Daines," the moderator bellowed. She was a tall, severe woman with rough, graying hair and thick wrinkles, and a scowl so deep Kit wondered if it was permanent.
"Lady Oleyon," Chalice returned with a bow.
"I hope you understand that your interruption will disqualify you if the King orders it. It's a valid reason to remove a participant."
"I'm aware, Your Grace. I apologize."
Before anyone else could speak, Kit interjected. "If I may—"
He regretted it immediately the moment he felt all the judgmental eyes on him.
"If it weren't for Chalice, I fear I would have never captured that thief. I believe it was a great show of bravery and faith to the Crown, as well as a remarkable feat of skill and knowledge. They were truly incredible back there, and I believe they proved themself to me just as much as they would have proved themself here."
The Lady glared, considering. "Is this true, druid?"
Chalice nodded. "It is, yes."
The Lady studied more, before finally she looked to the King. "Well, it's your decision, Your Majesty."
Kit gulped as the King stared Chalice down, but the druid had no emotion on their face.
The King softened. "Fine. You're pardoned, but the next slip up and you will never be considered for this position again, do you understand?"
"I understand, Your Majesty."
The King then fixed his gaze on the trembling prince. "You," he continued. "Will speak to me after. Go find your mentor, I have no need for you here."
Kit turned and left.
There would be no pleasing the King today.