Roland huffed. He wanted updates on war preparations, but Riley had skipped the Council meeting this morning. The man had sent some poor subordinate to face the Council's irritation at the General's absence.
"He's inspecting the new recruits today, Sir." The man had raised his chin, but his eyes held fear of being reprimanded for not bringing a good message.
Roland had kindly thanked the soldier, asked a few questions, and dismissed him. The rest of the Council deferred to him on the matter, though the Peacekeeper had looked somewhat disgruntled. The Council meeting was short, and though the Public meeting lingered on. The meshing of all of Ceto into Klain and the surrounding areas continued to cause hardship and strife.
More homes were being built, crops being cared for, and resources spent to feed the devouring hordes of refugees who came with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Many didn't even have shoes on their feet yet. It was a shame that Cetoan custom was to go barefoot, for even with Klain citizens donating many of their own, there was still a shortage among the people.
At least it was summer. There would be time for shoes to be made before winter came. The cobblers were all working overtime to make sure it was so.
Roland walked out to the training fields. The recruits had been brought closer to Klain. Really, everyone had. The outlying villages were advised to move closer unless they had crops to harvest.
There was no telling when the next large portal might appear, or exactly where, though watch was kept to the North, the direction where his wife's stepbrothers, and his adopted sister, had departed to.
The distant view of the landscape told him little. He shook his head in disappointment that his gaze did not yield some manner of information about the coming fight Gwen had told of.
The recruiting grounds were outside the city walls, camped up on rocky terrain that was unfit for farming. Every spare inch of fertile soil was planted with all the seed Klain could muster. Roen had even made some of the rocky areas into soil, crushing the rocks into dirt with his power.
The boy was exhausted. Why he felt such a burden to empty himself for others was a question of much contemplation for Roland. Ivan and Lily were content to help as much as they could and then rest, but Roen went above and beyond until he neared breakdown.
Finn kept a close watch on the boy, and pulled him back when he seemed to be getting close to the edge of too far.
With a sigh, Roland pulled his horse up short and threw a glance over his shoulder at the bodyguard who followed him at all times. If he approached on foot, he was less likely to interrupt the training… too much.
Although, Riley probably had already disrupted the routines far more than Roland intended to, he admitted to himself.
The clang of swords surprised him. Weren't there brand-new recruits? They should be practicing forms with wooden swords at this point, if he remembered correctly. Klain wanted their soldiers proficient with practice weapons before they were handed anything that could cut them too badly.
The parents of Klain would be furious if anyone let their children get needlessly hurt. Roland rushed forward, intending to interfere, though it wasn't his place to do so. Riley was the General, and he would be the one responsible for any harm that came to the boys under his care.
A cheer rose up, and Roland stopped. A memory pricked at the back of his mind, and he smiled. Drawing closer, he had his suspicions confirmed.
The recruits were in a large circle as the General himself stood in the center, sword at the ready, taking down ten training officers as they attacked from various angles. The recruits let up another mad cheer as Riley took down two with one blow.
He was holding back, for no one was seriously injured. Yet.
Roland hung back, although the boys nearest to him noticed his presence and bowed, moving backwards to give him plenty of room to see the spectacle himself. He suppressed his grin, putting a serious face back on.
Riley was a wild one at times, but skipping the Council meeting to show off in front of a bunch of boys was a new level of shirking his duties.
Not that he didn't understand. The situation was tense in Klain, and blowing off steam did sound nice. It had been too long since he'd sparred, himself.
As Riley kicked the last one to the ground, foregoing the use of his weapon altogether, the recruits roared in approval. Except those nearest to Roland, who clapped politely and watched the King Commodore clear his throat.
The General noticed his presence and bowed elaborately, his arms spread wide as if he were a performer ending a show.
"So kind of you to come visit us, Your Majesty," He said with a lopsided grin to take the sting out of his sarcasm.
"I was wondering what was so enthralling as to keep you from the Council meeting, and now I see." Roland responded. "I'm glad to see our General isn't getting too soft to fend off the attacks of his trainees."
The provocation was more in jest than serious, but Riley frowned.
"These are the trainers!" The General gestured to the defeated men with his sword. Pride in himself and disappointment in his men mixed in his voice.
Roland glanced at the men with a wink to let them know that the slight had been intended for Riley and not for them. They took it graciously; everyone knew of the General's prowess in combat.
"That seems very efficient. With our General fighting our trainers, the recruits won't have to do anything," The King Commodore smirked.
"It was a demonstration, Your Majesty." The Captain stepped forward. "Meant to inspire the men. The General seems to think the training methods are somewhat more lax than they used to be."
"Are they?" Roland's eyebrows rose. "He and I were recruits together, you know."
A murmur spread amongst the trainees, and Roland wondered if the collective memory of Klain still held the recollection of how badly Riley had twice beaten him into the dirt. From the surprise in the whispers, he guessed not.
That was probably understandable; back then he was a nobody, a simple doctor's apprentice. He wasn't known to be a prince until later, after he was lost and presumed dead. Two years before he'd actually died, and then come back.
He shook his head. His life was quite strange, when he linked it all together in succession.
"Did you spar?" One recruit spoke up after being elbowed by another.
"We haven't, in quite a long time." Roland said before Riley could describe the hilariously complete victory he'd had over the man who now held so much power. "The General is a fantastic fighter."
The tone of the buzzing amongst the recruits changed slightly with surprise.
"Care for a rematch, Your Majesty?" Riley was wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel someone handed to him. His words were teasing, his eyes mischievous. "Well, no, I guess you wouldn't want to ruin your fine clothes."
Roland looked down at his formal clothing, still from the meeting earlier. It would be a shame to damage anything at a time they were trying to weave winter clothing for all the refugees before the autumn arrived.
Still, he couldn't let Riley's words stand. Though they didn't overtly challenge his authority, the implication underneath it was unflattering, and the recruits were paying rapt attention to the interchange. The option was there to decline with dignity, but Riley's smirk was growing.
They hadn't sparred in years. Riley continued to train with the Klain military, while Roland had privately taken lessons from the best Rhone masters of the spear.
Riley had had the benefit of being raised under the tutelage of the greatest Klain warrior of a generation. While Roland had a late start, he had the blood of kings in his veins, and a natural talent once he had the right weapon. He had long surpassed the skills of his Rhone trainers.
It would, at the very least, be a much closer contest than last time they had sparred, when Roland had hit the ground, badly bruised, within seconds.
"That sounds like an enjoyable break from my official duties," Roland stroked his beard thoughtfully.
"But Sire!" His bodyguard, who rarely spoke at all, and never to interrupt the king's activities, protested, and Roland waved him off.
"With practice weapons, of course." He assured the man, who still looked dissatisfied, fixing Riley with a wary glare.
Roland chuckled. There was likely little the man could do if Riley did decide to hurt him, but The General's eyes missed the warning in the bodyguard's eyes.
"Excellent! Bring the king a spear!" He crowed.