The Blood Prince



  The Blood Prince

  By Jeff Wilson

  Copyright 2014 Jeff Wilson

  Cover art by Wendy Wilson

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  Table of Contents

  The Blood Prince

  Preiview of The Sigil Blade

  About The Author

  The Fall of House Edorin and the Birth of the Blood Prince

  Built around a wide harbor, the evolving structure of a great city fell under Aisen’s view, branching out in every possible direction beneath the massive citadel under which it sheltered. The fortress walls, composed of seamless stone masonry, had been built to a tremendous height, and the simple, ageless superiority evident in their construction, boasting strong clean lines and angles, made the city and its hastily built buildings and alleyways, look dirty and full of chaos. Duke Kyreth Edorin, Aisen’s grandfather, had started out with ambitious plans that envisioned broad streets on which to travel, and a system of clean waterways to supply a network of fountains and pools, but the city was growing so quickly that it defied all efforts to impose such order upon its expansion.

  This was Aisen’s home, but it was not a place that welcomed him and he felt nervous as he rode towards it. Unbearably hot under the heavy plate armor that he wore, Aisen tried to ignore the discomfort, reserving his sympathies instead for his horse. The young stallion bore him on without complaint, but a sheet of perspiration was beginning to accumulate on the animal’s dark bay coat. Aisen had more reasons than these to regret the heavy armor that he wore. No part of the idea, to use this overwrought set of ornately engraved ceremonial plate, had been his own.

  As he began his approach to the city, Aisen retrieved his golden helmet from where it rested on the pommel of his horse’s saddle, and secured it in place over his head, hiding his Rendish features from view. He was spotted by curious onlookers long before reaching the edges of the city. It was no surprise that they noticed him; how could they not. His armor, specifically prepared for this day, was overlaid with an alloy of bronze meant to resemble polished gold. Sunlight reflecting off of the mirrored finish on some of the larger plates, made Aisen visible from miles away, and up close, he was almost blinding.

  The decorative additions had increased the armor’s weight, and yet failed to compensate for it with any corresponding improvement in protection. But the armor was meant to create a spectacle, and in that respect, it was proving to be a complete success. Crowds were gathering around him now, slowing his progress through the streets. A group of bold adolescents, who were running along beside his route, were in turn trailed by others younger still who struggled to keep up. This informal procession, accompanied by the stream of excited cries which issued forth from these young children whose interests he had captured, concentrated ever more attention upon Aisen.

  The city was used to seeing armored men, soldiers of the Sigil Corps moving through the city, but this was different. This was some prince of high status and great wealth, come to pay respects to the late Duke Kyreth Edorin. Aisen wondered how excited the crowds would be once they learned who it was they were admiring.

  Few of the people of Nar Edor, Aisen knew, would want to see him assume his rightful position as the next ruler of House Edorin. He was however, not entirely without reliable support. Aisen was a Captain in the Sigil Corps, and the members of this elite military fraternity, almost alone it seemed, expressed no opposition towards him and could be counted upon to firmly support his claims to the succession.

  “Lord Aisen,” shouted a man from amongst the people who were now crowding the streets. This would be someone working for Ledrin, the commander here under whose authority, the soldiers of the Sigil Corps patrolled, guarding the Citadel and the surrounding city. At this signal, Aisen removed the enclosure on the front of his helmet and revealed his face to the crowd, inwardly lamenting the loss of his anonymity as he did so.

  “Lord Aisen!” shouted someone else, hesitantly at first, and then with increasing vigor as more men and women joined him. The cheers rolled into a greeting fit to hail the arrival of a king. In response to this adulation, Aisen experienced an intense pride bursting within his breast, for which he immediately felt foolish.

  The people will embrace you, Ledrin had told him, but you have to give them a reason to believe you were a leader who should be followed. It was often possible to accomplish this, he had gone on to explain, with nothing more than an object, something capable of conveying the authority of the ruler who held it. It was the reason why a king wore a crown, but it could be any symbol; a ring, a scepter, a royal cloak or mantle. In Aisen’s case, they would begin with a very impractical set of burnished ceremonial armor.

  Aisen wanted to disagree, feeling it was wrong to reduce strength, power, and leadership to something so trivial, but Ledrin’s strategy was working, and Aisen was forced to admit that the commander had been right. Perhaps these people would accept him, but then they had little choice in the matter, and neither did Aisen. Ledrin had seen to that.

  Despite continued hindrance from the growing crowds, and the considerable remaining distance to the Edorin family crypts where his grandfather had been prepared for internment, Aisen did not feel the slow passage of time as he travelled. His mind was distracted by the many ways in which his life had been so abruptly altered, and he was still working to resolve himself towards the inescapable changes that were yet to come. He would be required to resign his commission with the Sigil Corps before officially assuming control over House Edorin. Strict rules, both by the traditions of the Sigil Corps, and the requirements of the nobility, precluded the option of remaining in one while belonging to the other.

  The walled perimeter of Alsegate, the Edorin ancestral home, appeared to grow larger as Aisen approached. Complete with its open expanse of green gardens, a towering central castle, and a scattering of aged buildings that included the Edorin family crypts, it was a refuge from the conglomerated structures that were built up all around it. Older than the rest of the city, this fortified property commanded a high hill that overlooked the entire region. However, in consequence of its placement near the western walls of the Port Citadel, Alsegate appeared small from Aisen’s current vantage point, where it suffered under unfair comparisons with its much older and far more imposing backdrop.

  Five banners flew beneath the white sword crest of House Edorin above Castle Alsegate’s highest tower, signifying the presence of contingents from all five of the vassal houses sworn to Aisen’s family. Included among these were Lord Teveren’s black spear and the three silver overturned drinking cups of House Ansett, just above the red and gold falcons of House Afnere. Below these were the Houses of lower rank, most notably the two standing pillars that represented the union between the Baron of Udras and the daughter of the late Lord Morvent with her territories in the north of Emensvale. Lower still was the stylized grey winged dragon of House Novin, and almost irrelevant, at the very bottom, was a green tree against a white background; the sign of Baron Gensaer and House Hemir.

  The men of these houses were here to honor the passing of their lord. The question that remained was whether they would swear that same loyalty to Aisen. Normally, those oaths would have been counted on as a matter of mere formality, but Aisen knew that Teveren had openly voiced a preference for seeing Aisen’s younger brother Beonen made the next leader of House Edorin. Given an opportunity, Aisen might have agreed.

  Beonen was bette
r immersed within the inner circles of the noble houses of Nar Edor, and though it could have been argued that he was too young, he was quite possibly better prepared for the role than his older brother. Of greater importance, where Aisen resembled his father Aedan Elduryn, with dark foreign skin and unusual grey eyes, his brother had lighter Edoric features inherited from their mother, Kyreth Edorin’s daughter. Beonen possessed the height, light hair, and bright penetrating blue eyes that their grandfather had been renowned for, and he looked the part of an aristocrat and prince.

  Aisen was the soldier, having spent his entire youth and what little adulthood he had experienced in the service of the Sigil Corps. His training under their care, valuable as is may have been, had not in Aisen’s mind truly prepared him for the world he was being asked to enter. It felt to Aisen at times as though he had been deliberately isolated; so much so that he had developed very few relationships with anyone outside the Sigil Corps.

  Passing through an opening between a pair of heavy gates, Aisen crossed into Alsegate and left the crowds behind. The citizens would be allowed in tomorrow, so that they could pay their respects to the duke