A March of Kings by Morgan Rice

something deep and dark, a tone he had never heard before; the guards must have sensed it, too, because they dared not move.
    “ I am a member of the royal family,” Kendrick corrected. “An immediate member. You, Alton, are not. You are son to a third cousin to the king. You guards will answer to me before you do to this pretender. And Thor is my squire. He is not to be touched. Not now or ever.”
    “But he broke the law!” Alton whined, bunching his fists like a baby. “A commoner cannot strike royalty!”
    Kendrick smiled.
    “In this case, I am very glad he did. In fact if I were there, I would have struck you myself. Whatever it is that you did, I’m sure you deserved it—and a lot more.”
    Alton scowled, turning red.
    “I suggest you guards leave now. Or if you prefer, come closer, and pay the price. I’m itching to use my sword, actually.”
    The two guards gave each other a wary look, them both turned, re-sheathed their swords, and strutted out the armory. Only Alton was left there, standing alone, watching in frustration as the guards left.
    “I would suggest you follow them quickly, before I find a good use for this blade in my hands.”
    Kendrick took a step forward, and Alton suddenly turned and ran out the door.
    Kendrick, smiling, re-sheathed his sword and turned to Thor.
    Thor was overwhelmed with gratitude, and he felt indebted to Kendrick, once again.
    “I don’t know how to thank you,” Thor said.
    Kendrick took a step forward and laid a hand on his shoulder.
    “You already have. Just seeing the look on that pip’s face actually made my day.”
    Kendrick laughed and Thor laughed, too. Then Kendrick looked at him with all seriousness.
    “My father did not take people under his wing lightly. He saw something great in you. I see it, too. You will make us proud. Go to The Hundred and excel. Go and become the warrior that I know you will be.”
    *
    Thor walked in the summer fields outside the Legion’s compound, Krohn beside him, late in the day, the second sun dropping, filling the sky with spectacular pinks and oranges and purples. Krohn whined in delight as Thor led him deeper and deeper into the fields, giving him a chance to run, to play, to chase animals and to catch his dinner. Krohn carried an Ursutuay in his mouth now, a strange creature about the size of a rabbit, with purple fur and three heads, which he had proudly caught but minutes before.
    Krohn was getting bigger and bigger before his eyes, now nearly twice the size from when he’d found him, and he was getting more of a desire to run and move about. Krohn was also becoming more playful, and he demanded that Thor take him farther and farther, and run with him. If Thor didn’t run with him as much as he wanted, Krohn would nip playfully at Thor’s ankles, and not let him alone until Thor chased him. Then, Krohn would take off with a delighted squeal, until Thor got tired of chasing him.
    As the day had grown long, Thor had wanted a break from the barracks, from all the frantic preparations. He was all packed now, as was everybody else, and it felt as if they were counting down the hours until they left the Ring. Thor didn’t know exactly when they were leaving, but he was told it would be within the next day or two. The mood in the barracks was tense and edgy, filled with anxiety for the trip to come and mourning for the king. It was like a time of great change had swept through them suddenly.
    Thor wanted one last chance to be alone before the trip, to clear his head, still swimming with the death of the king, and with his encounter with Gwendolyn. His mind drifted to thoughts of Erec, of where he must be now. Would he ever return? He thought of how temporary life could be: everything seemed so permanent, but it rarely was. It made him feel more alive, and less alive, at the same time.
    “Nothing is as it seems,” came a voice.
    Thor wheeled, and was shocked to see Argon, standing there, dressed in his scarlet robe,