Prince Gareth, Classless Royal

Authors Note: This is my first foray in writing this kind of story.

Steel clanged against steel in the echoing practice hall. Prince Gareth, heir to the Sun Throne, parried a vicious blow from his trainer, Dariana, her silver hair whipping around her face as she spun. Sweat dripped onto Gareth’s brow, a welcome contrast to the cool bite of the morning air filtering through the high windows. Every muscle burned with familiar exertion as he moved his body with ease, but his mind was elsewhere.

In two weeks, on his 20th birthday, he wouldn’t be facing Dariana’s practice sword. He’d be kneeling before the High Priest, bathed in holy light. He would be initiated into the Holy Church, bestowed with the gift of light magic, and ordained as a paladin—a defender of the realm against the darkness that lurked beyond its borders. For years, Gareth had been diligently studying the holy texts and magic books in preparation for this moment.

As Gareth parried Dariana’s strikes, his thoughts drifted to the weight of expectation resting upon his shoulders. He longed to make his family proud, to prove himself worthy of the title that awaited him. It was his duty as the firstborn and only son. But amidst his training, doubts gnawed at the edges of his confidence.

A clang of metal on metal jolted him back to reality. Dariana, a woman twice his age with a battle-scarred face and steely blue eyes, stood before him, a smirk playing on her lips. She could match any man in swordplay, which made training extra hard as he would sneak glances at her body. He enjoyed how her body moved with grace. What he did not enjoy was how her sword was inches from his side.

“Lost in the clouds, prince?” she said, her voice gravelly.

Grimacing, Gareth regained his footing, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “I am focused,” he insisted, though the distraction was evident in his eyes.

Dariana’s smirk widened, her eyes twinkling with amusement and something else Gareth couldn’t quite decipher. “A paladin with wandering eyes, huh? If you were focused, you wouldn’t have left yourself open.” With a swift motion, she lunged forward, her blade slicing through the air with precision.

“Needed you close enough to strike,” he countered, a touch of bravado in his voice. Before Dariana could respond, he surprised her, and even himself, with a swift maneuver. A well-placed kick knocked her legs out from under her. With lightning speed, he pointed the tip of his practice sword at her throat.

Dariana rolled her eyes, a feat that never failed to amuse him. “Dirty but well played,” she conceded, pushing herself upright with a grunt.

As she rose, a wry smile touched her lips. “There are easier ways to impress people, you know. Ones that don’t involve nearly being disemboweled.”

Gareth lowered his head. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Darianna was right. He wasn’t new to this dance, the push and pull between recklessness and responsibility. He placed the practice sword back in its rack, the weight of the approaching ceremony suddenly heavy.

“Easier ways, huh?” Gareth muttered

Dariana observed him, her expression softening. “The best paladins, Gareth,” she began, her voice losing its usual gruffness, “aren’t just about flashy moves. They’re about patience, strategy, and knowing when to be honest with oneself.”

Gareth met her gaze. “I understand the theory,” he admitted, his eyes softening. “It’s the practice part that…” he trailed off, unsure how to articulate the gnawing doubts.

She crossed her arms with a knowing look in her eyes. “It’s not about being fearless, Gareth,” she said, her voice firm but kind. “It’s about understanding fear, respecting its power, and choosing to act in spite of it.”

His shoulders slumped slightly. "I…" He stopped, struggling to express the turmoil within. Dariana waited patiently.

Finally, Gareth took a deep breath. “I just… I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” he confessed. “The ceremony, the expectations. What if I let everyone down?”

Dariana’s face softened further. She stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Gareth,” she said, her voice low and sincere, “you’ve trained harder than anyone. You have the potential for greatness. But nobody is ever ‘ready’ for everything. That’s why we have mentors, comrades, and a whole darn Church supporting us.”

A faint flicker of hope ignited in Gareth’s eyes. “Do you… do you really think so?”

Dariana grinned, a rare sight. “I wouldn’t be wasting my time training the future High Paladin, would I?”

Despite himself, Gareth smiled. “High Paladin, now that’s a dream. But I would first need to become Paladin.”

Suddenly, a young servant scurried in, breathless. “Your Highness, the High Priest seeks you.”

Gareth turned to Dariana, who nodded. “Go, we’ll pick up on training next week.”

Straightening his tunic, Gareth gave a respectable nod to Dariana. He took a deep breath, trying to quell the butterflies erupting in his stomach.

Following the servant through the polished corridors of the palace, Gareth stole a glance back at the training room. Dariana had a way of revealing his best side, both through training and her words.

Each step felt heavier than the last as Gareth wondered why the High Priest wanted to see him and how it related to the ceremony. The High Priest was the most revered figure in the entire Church. Being in his favor was paramount if he ever hoped to join the paladins.

Reaching the grand doors of the High Priest’s chambers, Gareth felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. The servant bowed and disappeared, leaving him alone before the imposing entrance. With a final breath, Gareth pushed open the doors and stepped inside.

Entering the High Priest’s chamber, the smell of incense blasted Gareth’s senses. The room was adorned with intricate tapestries depicting scenes from ancient battles and divine interventions. At the center of the chamber, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, sat the High Priest.

“Ah, Prince Gareth,” the High Priest greeted him, his lips straight as an arrow. “Come, sit.”

With a slight nod, Gareth walked across the room and sat opposite the High Priest. His stare was sharp but not harsh. “Your ceremony approaches, Your Highness.”

Gareth swallowed hard. “Indeed, High Priest. I am… honored.”

The High Priest leaned forward, his gaze unwavering. “I have a duty to maintain the sanctity of the Order and Holy Church. It’s not everyone who becomes a paladin. To my knowledge, I don’t believe any royal had ever sought the paladin class”

“I understand.” Gareth cracked his knuckles, a nervous habit his mother had admonished him for. “Believe me, I have been training and reading the holy and arcane texts.”

The High Priest’s face remained impassive as his eyes traveled around his room. “Are you curious why my office is in the palace instead of the Holy Church?”

“I must admit, High Priest, the thought did cross my mind,” Gareth replied, choosing his words carefully.

The High Priest nodded, his face unreadable. “The history between the Holy Church and the royal family runs deep, Prince Gareth. Our fates have been intertwined for generations, bound by a mutual duty to safeguard the realm and uphold the divine order.”

The High Priest steepled his fingers, his long nails tapping a slow rhythm against the desk. “However, there have been times when the Holy Church and the Crown haven’t seen eye to eye.” He paused. “The palace sees the Church as an extension of its power, while the Church seeks to guide the palace toward a better future.” The High Priest leaned back in his chair. “If you become a paladin today, where does your loyalty lie?”

“My loyalty lies with the realm, Your Eminence,” Gareth replied, his voice steady despite his sick stomach. “With its people, their well-being, and the preservation of peace and justice.”

The High Priest regarded him with a measured gaze as if searching for the truth behind his words. “I could deny you the paladin class,” he said bluntly. “I would have one ear, and your parents would have the other. A divided paladin is not proper.”

This was exactly what Gareth was afraid of hearing. He could feel it now. All of his hopes of becoming a paladin were becoming undone. “But, Your Eminence, surely you and my parents have the same interests.”

The High Priest’s lips twitched ever so slightly, a hint of a suppressed smile. “I can’t cancel the ceremony, lest I incur unrest throughout the kingdom and your father’s anger. At best, I can only implore you to consider whether being a paladin is the best course of action.”

The best course of action.

If only that old man knew about the potential well of magic coursing through him. He could do so much as both a prince and warrior.

Arriving outside, Gareth smiled when he saw Roderick by a fountain. His friend was perfect when it came to distractions. “Roderick,” he called out. “A fine morning to go hunting.”

Roderick turned at the sound of Gareth’s voice, his face brightening at the prospect of an adventure. “Hunting? This early? Don’t tell me you’ve grown tired of attending court already, Your Highness?”

Gareth scoffed as he kicked a stray pebble. “Please, I barely listen to what the nobles say. Don’t say that out loud.”

“How about writing it on the palace walls?” The two friends laughed as they went to the stables where their horses were waiting. While setting up, Roderick cracked a smile. “So, Your Highness, your ceremony and 20th birthday are coming in two weeks. Should I even dare ask how excited you are for the special day?”

Gareth’s smile faltered slightly. “It’s… complicated, he admitted, tightening the saddle straps.

Roderick raised an eyebrow. “Complicated? But it’s your birthday! Shouldn’t you be looking forward to it? They’ll be food, music, and entertainment!”

“And being viewed as an official adult in the eyes of the court.” Gareth hoisted himself onto his horse. “And with that comes a whole new set of expectations, responsibilities… and disappointments.”

Roderick’s expression softened as he got onto his horse. “Ah, I see. Heavy is the crown.”

“Something like that,” Gareth replied, his gaze drifting off into the distance. “And then there’s the matter of the paladin ceremony…”

“Ah, yes, your dreams of becoming a paladin,” Roderick said, nodding knowingly. “Did you bring your concerns to the High Priest?”

Gareth tilted his head. “I think the High Priest is my concern.” The two motioned their horses to leave the stable. “He seems to be under the impression that my loyalty might conflict between the State and the Church. It’s political nonsense.”

Roderick frowned. “But your loyalty lies with the realm and its people, right? That shouldn’t conflict with your duties as a paladin and prince.”

“Exactly!” Gareth exclaimed, frustration evident in his voice. “But the High Priest seems more concerned about having paladins loyal to the Church first.”

“Huh, so your paladin dreams are crushed?”

Gareth shook his head. “Not exactly. The High Priest can frown all he wants, but he would invite a whole host of trouble if he tried to block me from becoming a paladin. That doesn’t mean he won’t make things easier for me.”

As they neared the palace gates, Roderick stopped his horse. “Are you seeking his permission?”

Gareth paused as he considered Roderick’s question carefully. “Not permission, exactly,” he replied, his voice firm. “But his approval would be appreciated.”

“Then succeed in spite of his approval.” Roderick motioned his horse to move closer to Gareth. “You’re the prince, and you’ve worked hard to get where you are.”

A grin spread across Gareth’s face. “Spoken like a true friend, Roderick. Besides, who needs the grumpy High Priest’s approval anyway? My dedication to the Church and the people is undeniable.”

Roderick chuckled. “Well said. Now, about this hunt… are we going after deer again, or are you feeling adventurous?”