For a moment, Prince Edward lost his regal confidence, wincing at the impact of his words. In the light of the new information Kelryn had given him about Nightfall’s past, his sarcastic comment about hitting might have seemed cruel. Though the statement had not bothered Nightfall at all, he relished the discomfort that would make Edward feel more obligated to explain. "Ask your question. I won’t let it, nor the mere act of asking, offend."
Nightfall started walking again with a slow, thoughtful stride. "You need to become landed. King Jolund wants to give away a landed title. Master, it seems perfect. Why would you choose not to go?"
Soon, Edward’s long strides brought him even with Nightfall, and the smaller man increased his speed to keep pace with his long-legged master. "I’ve chosen not to go. You may question my actions for clarification, but don’t challenge my motivations.”
Nightfall hesitated, thrown by so many difficult words at once. "I still don’t understand.”
"I don’t wish to go."
"Why not?”
“I don’t wish to go." Rising anger tainted Edward’s tone. “That is all."
"But why not?" Nightfall continued to press, not the least put off by Edward’s annoyance. Like alcohol, strong emotions, such as rage, fear, and love, tended to goad people to say things propriety would otherwise gag. At best, he might discover some truer incentive beneath Edward’s loyalty to himself and to the downtrodden. At worst, he would listen to another tedious discussion of manners.
“It’s pointless to go," Edward’s strong voice verged on a shout. "Why waste time on a contest I can’t win.” The prince’s words seemed so uncharacteristic, Nightfall halted in his tracks before he realized he had stopped, and it took Edward several strides to notice. "I can’t believe you just said that."
Edward turned, brow wrinkled, seemingly perplexed by his own comment. Nevertheless, he stood by his words. "It would waste my time to go."
"Master…" Nightfall paused, finding a response as difficult as he wanted it to appear. “Are you the same man I pledged my services to? The one who set out to end generations of slavery and poverty single-handedly?"
"I am," Edward said, the anger fading into thoughtful consideration. "And I still plan to do it."
"So, as I understand it," Nightfall put the situation fully into perspective, "you’re willing to fight or lecture every person in the world involved with bondage or injustice. But you’re not good enough to win a joust?" He began walking again, wanting to get closer to the duke’s citadel.
Again, Edward caught up swiftly. "It’s not that. It’s just, well, I know some of the people who’ll be there, men who’ve fought wars. Men who consistently bested me in practice."
"Master, you’re a great warrior."
The prince smiled, but his attitude seemed more tolerant than agreeable. "Your faith in me is touching, really it is. But I’m not experienced, and I know my limits."
Nightfall did not believe he had ever heard a more false statement in his life. Knows his limits, indeed. This from a man who frees slaves without warning and expects no complaints from their owners. This realization cued Nightfall to something deeper. Whatever kept Prince Edward from the Tylantian contest had only partially to do with the belief that he would lose. "But, Master, don’t you want to know for sure? Were I highborn, I would at least wonder where I stood among the others."
"I have no need for that knowledge.”
"But what could it hurt to try‘?" Nightfall knew he had passed the boundary of pressing too hard, but to drop the subject now might leave him no chance to raise it again without Edward immediately ending the discussion. Fresh wounds made men talkative; old anger spurred avoidance.
He tensed for the tongue-lashing sure to follow his insistence.
But Edward did not yell. He spent several seconds in deep contemplation before replying. "It’s my brother, you know. He’s so much more skilled, it makes no sense for me to go. He’s always beaten me." His voice went so soft, Nightfall had to strain to hear. "He’s always made me look like a fool."
Nightfall spoke nearly as softly. "All the more reason you should go. So you can show your brother what you can do. So you can show him you’ve become a man, not the toddler he remembers."
"And if I wind up looking more foolish?"
"You won’t."
"But if I do?"
"Then at least you tried."
Edward went meditative again, while Nightfall laughed. "What’s funny about that?”
"You’re always so strong and confident. It’s good to see you have some doubts for a change."
"It doesn’t make me look weak?"
“Just the opposite, Master." Nightfall quoted Dyfrin once again. "A fool fears nothing and calls it courage. A hero conquers what he fears."
Edward nodded appreciatively. "Very well stated."
Nightfall refused to take the credit. "I heard it from a wise man, the closest I ever had to a brother. Sometimes I wish I had listened to him more."
Apparently noting wistfulness, Edward asked the obvious question. "What happened to him?"
"Who?" Backtracking through the conversation, Nightfall realized Edward had referred to Dyfrin, probably believing him one of Kelryn’s siblings. “Oh, him.” Nightfall avoided names. Caught talking about actual events from the past, he changed the subject quickly. "Nothing as far as I know. We just went in different directions. We seem to find each other every so often." He wondered if Dyfrin would have reason to attend the contests and doubted it. He had not seen his old friend in longer than two years. "Do we go to the contests?"
"Don’t push me," Edward warned, good-naturedly. "Yes, I suppose we go. But you’ll need to prepare my fighting gear now and on the field, things such as armor, weapons, and my destrier. And we’ll need new colors. We can’t represent Alyndar when the crown prince is there. We’ll have to find something not already being used as the symbol of another house."
Nightfall found the details trifling, yet he guessed those with wealth needed some means of occupying the time commoners spent working to keep warm or searching for food. His first thought, to place the prince in a single, unadorned color such as flat black, passed quickly. Once Edward got an idea in his head, he acted on it swiftly and with vigor. He would want to leave for Shisen at once, and it would take at least a few days without other suitors to win, the hand of Lady Willafrida. Success here might make the contests immaterial, but having the competition as a backup plan relieved Nightfall of some of the urgency wooing the duchess-heir had held. Rousing love in a day seemed difficult, but no more so than rigging several mock battles in Edward’s favor without getting caught in the act. The need for a seamstress to create their colors could hold Edward here for the time Nightfall required. Now, he needed only to think of some symbol so compelling it charged Edward to his usual frenzy. “An opened shackle and a majestic eagle flying free from it." He waved the hand carrying the lantern to indicate the scene as if it stood before them. The light cut a saffron arc through the growing darkness, adding grandeur as well as possibly attracting Willafrida’s attention. "In golden weave, of course. All on a background of clear sky blue."
Edward stared into the darkness where Nightfall had conjured the image, a grin creeping slowly onto his features. "We’ll make it deep blue. More contrast and easier to see from a distance. I like the rest. It won’t be the first emblem with a bird of prey nor the only one in blue and gold; but the motif will make it different enough." He waved a hand, as if to clear the same area for his own picture. "A captured eagle flying for freedom. How appropriate."