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The following day, Avar woke Prolur right before the crack of dawn by loudly knocking on his door. Elden had told him that Avar possessed some form of biological clock that always woke him up at the correct time, and therefore, he was in charge of waking the monastery.
Breakfast was served in the great hall. Fresh-baked bread, eggs, and ham were enjoyed by everyone except Father Laster who was eating dry bread from two days earlier. The cook was already busy working on the menu for the upcoming banquet. He had already sent out a couple of local hunters and given them intricate instructions about what was needed. He had himself a lot to take care of since the menu, which Elden had handed him, was very extensive.
After the meal, Elden, Laster, and Prolur went out to the courtyard where the greeting of the exalted guest was to take place.
Laster then traveled into Barnavor together with Avar to find Sauranians who would act as waiters and additional laborers. Just like with the menu, Elden wanted the decorations to be perfect, honoring the lord and the Haugarian values. Elden also brought the finest wines up from the monastery’s cellar and had even asked for new robes to be delivered from the island, which Freido had been carrying together with Prolur. There was one set for each of the brothers, and even a new one for Avar. Nothing was too good for Lord di Sauria and his court.
There was not much for Prolur to do personally, so he mostly kept an eye on the workers when they arrived and discussed ideas with Father Laster about where the coat of arms and banners would be best placed.
In the evening, the hunters returned with wild boars, deer, wild geese, and they even managed to find quintas, a buffalo native to Sauranian woodlands.
The cook led the hunters, with their quarry, to the kitchen where they were going to flay and then hang the animals. Elden joined them, giving careful instructions on how to cut up the meat and what parts would be useful for future meals. Prolur observed it all with great interest since the art of cooking to him was quite foreign.
As the day progressed, the half-completed buildings became more and more presentable, and a sea of wonderful smells poured out from the kitchen windows and throughout the convent’s grounds.
Prolur and Avar sent the workers home as dusk came, and they finished the cleaning duties before they made an early night of it. Another one of Lord di Sauria’s messengers had arrived in the early afternoon with the announcement that they were to expect His Lordship the following morning.
Both Laster and Elden were very excited about the visit and claimed that they would not sleep a wink. Prolur could not share their enthusiasm. He didn’t know why, but he wasn’t particularly interested in meeting the Lord of Saurania or his entourage. He stared out his window and looked out over the starry night. It was amazingly clear—a rare break in the rain and wind. He looked over to the bed where his sword was laying. He had taken it out earlier to swing it around a bit. When he held it in his hands, he once again could feel the surge from the hundred battles he had been a part of. For some reason, it felt as if the sword took control of him. The sounds of battle rang in his ears, and he could feel the sensation of metal digging into flesh and bone.
He had dropped the sword on the bed and let it be, distancing himself from it. It had scared him, chilled him to the core. The sword contained the memory of every single battle and the soul of every man whose blood it had spilled.
Reluctantly, he walked over to the bed, wrapped the blanket around the blade, and carried it to the closet. It was going to be a long day tomorrow he thought as he lay down.
Morning came almost too quickly. It felt as though Prolur had no sooner closed his eyes before Avar stood over him, shaking his arm. He quickly moved himself to the washing facilities, where he cleaned himself thoroughly. Avar had lit a fire and begun heating water so that it would be warm enough for the brothers to bathe in. He even took a pair of scissors and carefully trimmed his beard. He dressed in his new robe, which felt nice and soft, not rough and coarse like his old one. The colors, although mostly nuances of grey, were deeper, and Elden had even commissioned a patch to be sown on the left side of the chest. The patch portrayed a wave-shaped sword pointing downwards. A hand was gripping the hilt, and the single eye of Haugar glistened in the background. Everything was intricately woven with the finest threads. The entire thing was surrounded by ancient runes that formed a perfect circle. It was very impressive, and Prolur found it to be a welcome addition to the otherwise drab robes.
When he entered the great hall, it was full of commotion. People were running around and taking care of the last-minute preparations, washing windows, hanging curtains, and draping the specially-built royal chair at the head of the table.
Elden was the most nervous of them all. He was still dressed in his nightshirt, sweat running down his face, his hair a mess. He tried to do a million things at once. In his hand, he held a parchment on which he had written a list of things that had to be taken care of. The tasks had already been checked the day before, but Prolur could see that most of them had now been checked both two and three times. While he was trying to concentrate on the list, he was running about the hall shouting at workers and poor Avar, who tried to please the haugén as best he could.
Since the cook had been busy most of the night and morning with the banquet—he had even been forced to send for three additional helpers—there was no breakfast. Father Laster was more than happy to share his meager meal with the rest of them and even smiled at their attempts to swallow it down.
The rain was still letting up, and a strong wind coming in from the north had blown the mud in the courtyard dry, which was a great relief for Elden who had been deeply concerned about His Lordship’s boots.
Prolur and Laster stood in the center of the courtyard, surrounded by banners and a huge blue and silver flag bearing the royal seal hanging from the tower behind them. They had been asked by Elden to do a thorough investigation of the grounds, and they were both more than happy to escape the hectic tempo indoors.
As they stood there with their hands full of little less than damp dirt, a man rode through the open gates. He wore the royal colors—a blue tunic with silver borders—and he was carrying a shield bearing the royal seal. Under the tunic, a well-polished chain mail glistened, and at the young man’s side hung a sword protected by an oiled leather scabbard. His face was clean-shaven, and his blond hair was cut just above the ears, which was a grooming standard among the Haugarian troops. The young soldier looked at the two monks and raised his left eyebrow at them.
“Is either of you holy fathers Haugén Elden?” he said in a clear, loud voice filled with a sense of duty and pride.
Prolur took a step forward and lay a hand on the nose of the soldier’s white horse. “I am not I’m afraid, young man,” he answered. “I am Father Prolur, and this is Father Laster. The haugén is unfortunately occupied at the moment. Perhaps we might assist you?” Prolur smiled at the man and tried to radiate all the kindness he could muster.
“I am the emissary of His Grace, Lord di Sauria,” the young soldier cried while staring off into the distance. “I have come to inform this monastery that His Lordship and his entourage are currently detained in Barnavor but will be arriving here in no less than three hours’ time.”
Prolur turned and looked at Laster, who looked confused and shrugged his shoulders. “We will be sure to deliver the message,” he replied.
The soldier turned his horse sideways. “See that you do!” he said, and then he buried his heels into the sides of the horse and rode off the same way he had come.
“A blatant lack of respect!” Laster proclaimed as they watched the back of the rider disappear.
They quickly located Elden, who was climbing on the walls trying to hang the banners himself complaining about ‘the Sauranian peasants who are unable to follow instructions’. The news nearly caused him to fatally fall, but fortunately, Prolur’s quick reflexes averted the tragedy. The now close to panic-stricken haugén instructed his brothers to finish the rounds as it was high time that he washed and dressed in his new garb. Prolur and Laster were well aware of the thoroughness with which Elden had already gone through his list, and therefore, they finished things off by taking down unnecessary scaffolding, sending unneeded workers home, and cleaning up the rest of them. They visited the kitchen where the heat by this time was almost unbearable. The cook and his assistants were running back and forth between the different fires in the room, dressed only in short pants. Once they found that the lord’s arrival was imminent, they all turned a deeper shade of red than before, and both Prolur and Laster soon found themselves escorted out of the kitchen together with a small black and white kitten.
Elden came racing out from the monastery and into the courtyard where Prolur and Laster were waiting for him. He had cleaned himself up, shaved, and it looked like his hair had been trimmed. As he walked towards them, he arranged the belt around his waist as if he was adjusting the final piece. From the tower, Avar had spotted several riders and carriages heading their way.
They all formed a row with Elden standing in the middle, one step in front of his brothers. Avar stood together with the workers in the background. Flanking them on either side were two Sauranians carrying flags with the Haugarian colors. In the distance, they heard the rumbling of hooves and wheels coming closer like rolling thunder.
Moments later, a row of riders was visible through the dust they stirred up. They were all wearing the same blue and silver clothes as the emissary had, and in their right hands, they held a lance with a flag at its tip. Behind them came a covered carriage drawn by four white horses flanked on both sides by a rider dressed in the grey uniforms of regular soldiers.
As the entourage rode into the courtyard, another five riders became visible from behind the carriage. Four of them were heavily armed with bastard swords on their backs for easy access, long triangular shields, and spears in their hands. They wore thick chain mail covered by red tunics. These were elite soldiers, personal royal guards, trained to detect any threat against their patron. The fifth rider was wearing a purple cape and a red tunic and across his chest hung a black sash with golden medals attached to it. Covering his head was a helmet with red plumage sprouting from the top.
Prolur, Elden, and Laster held their breath as Lord di Sauria rode towards them, surrounded by his guards at all times. They held their horses at a respectable distance and watched the brothers. Elden turned and looked at his friends, who both nodded. He then walked up to the lord and bowed with respect. The lord dismounted, took the haugén’s hand, and bowed deeply.
They spoke a few words to each other, which Prolur could not make out, and then they pointed to different parts of the monastery building. They both looked at Prolur, and Lord di Sauria seemed to say something amusing because Elden began to laugh. Lord di Sauria spoke a few words to his guards and then began walking towards Prolur and Laster.
Maybe it was just Prolur’s imagination, but it seemed like the grey clouds in the sky became darker and the wind picked up as the lord of Saurania approached them. Di Sauria halted a few feet from them, raised his hands, and then slowly began to pull off his helmet.
Prolur took a few steps back in amazement as the man put his helmet under his arm.
The man’s face was ten years younger than his, clean-shaven, with green eyes, and framed by shoulder-length black hair with a few white streaks. He opened his arms and smiled at the astonished monk. “Do you not recognize me, Cousin?” he said.
“Mieden?” Prolur replied with an uncertain tone.
“It is true, Cousin Prolur.” He took a step closer to embrace him.
Prolur took several steps back and raised his hand to halt the lord. “How?” he said, still doubting his eyes.
“When you refused the position and joined the order,” di Sauria began, “they naturally chose your next of kin. Someone who had been trained by you. So now I am Sir Mieden de Sangior di Sauria, but we have time to discuss such things later. Quite a surprise is it not?” di Sauria laughed, but Prolur said nothing. “That is not all,” he continued. “Keep your eyes on that carriage over there!”