3.

Inri barely had time to drag on court clothes, helped by his exasperated manservant, Seccat. The tunic was tight enough that he heard the seams crack. Smoothing the russet cloth over his torso, he had to admit it was time for a new one.

"I told you so," Seccat muttered, draping the matching half-cloak over the prince's shoulder.

[Seccat came from a long, dour line of royal servants. But being a third son himself, he was stuck with the third prince. He tried to make the most of it, but could not help be somewhat disgruntled that Inri did very little to try and raise his status. Inri did not pursue the hands of foreign princesses, nor sell his influence for jewels and gems, nor throwing himself into sports and idles. He was not even populating the lower town with the usual crop of bastards. All he did was ride about the land consorting with lesser folk about their trades and hobbies. When others asked Seccat, what exactly is the point of Prince Inri Tritos Agar? Seccat was obliged to reply: I really have no idea. No idea at all.]

"It's fine," Inri consoled him. "We can get a new one to suit whatever pointless post my royal father has found to bestow upon me. Honorary warden of the palace chamber pots, perhaps. Or captain of the frogs in the wain pond fighting the great war against the insects and tiddlers."

"You shall need a new court suit as a prince in his majority." Seccat folded his riding clothes fastidiously into a basket to send to the laundry. "It would also have been better if you had time to wash."

"I doubt my father will notice. He always smells rather strongly like dead wolf soaked in a cask of beer. It will probably drown out a whiff of horse sweat and road soil."

Seccat could hardly comment on that, right as it was. "Make haste then. Perhaps his royal highness will give you a better way to spend your time."

Inri just shook his head at the implied scolding. He took a short cut through a servant's hallway to get to the landing outside his fathers receiving parlor. But before he took another step a lady in waiting lept from a bench seat and grabbed his sleeve. A strained seam parted letting in air. Fortunately, in a place the cloak would hide it. "Her royal highness bid my ensure you speak to her first." The lady said. "It is imperative."

Lady Opad was inclined to think the Queen's every whim was a matter of urgency, but on this occasion, her fingers trembled with the deeply felt importance of her mission. She was frail enough, however, that she could not have dragged Inri away without his considerable cooperation.

Inro was surprised to discover that his mother, the queen awaited him in a side chamber used to stow away petitioners who were to undecorative or embarrassing to have on display in the leading parlor.

She hovered, unwilling to sit on the tawdry furnishings of this work-a-day room. Her round face lit up at the sight of her son.

"My precious," She said, taking Inri's hand on both of her own.

Lady Opad bowed her way out of the room but was most likely tarrying on just the other side of the door.

"I had to see you before you have the audience of your majority. I only hope you can forgive me."

"Forgive you, mother? Why would I ever need to do that?" Inri was genuinely baffled. He knew he had a comfortable and affluent life, and his mother did everything in her power to make this possible.

The queen surveyed the dowdy furniture again and rejected the idea of it again. "You see, my boy. I prevailed on your father not to give you a title. Please tell me you are not angry."

Inri laughed in relief. "It will be a much more honest thing than father coming up with some pretentious title with no serious lands or duties attached. And certainly wiser than assigning anything of value to what will quickly become a distant cadet branch of the family that goes to waste and ruin within a generation or two…"

"Do not say such things." The queen patted his hand. "Any child of yours, I am sure will inherit your good sense and good nature."

"For all the good it does me. Any girl of a station high enough to marry me has her sights set a good deal higher."

The queen tutted. "Women have more sense than you credit them with. You should spend more time in the company of women of noble station. Not these belum-brewers and horse breeders you traipse all over our small land to visit."

"You surely know there is nothing unseemly…"

"Oh, of course, of course. A mother knows. But it is your father's solace to assume you simply prefer a coarser fair. The alternatives being… well. Do let me introduce you to some suitable ladies. Now you are of age something might come of it."

"I shall be all ears if you have suggestions along that line. But right now I should be spending time with my father so he can break the bad news to me."

"Be sure to look disappointed," the queen counsel. "As a man should."

Inri bowed his leave-taking, suddenly aware it would be the last time he did so. As a prince in his majority, he should henceforth treat her as an absolute equal. It would be a hard habit to break.

He made his way quickly to his father's chamber, heart lighter now he knew how little to expect.

Father's guard swung open the doors so he could walk through without even slowing his step.

His father sat on an ornately carved lesser throne, the kind that allowed his feet to touch the ground albeit padded by a thin cushion.

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving them entirely alone.

"I have very grave news for you, Inri my son," King Stath Prota Agar said. "Grave news and a heavy duty."

Inro's carefree smile froze on his face. "You do?"