Kelewulf stared at the king’s dead body. Horst Rivengeld had been laid out in his finest armour: the studded black leather ensemble he had died in. The gaping hole where an enemy warrior had thrust a spear through it had been neatly repaired. The blood had been cleared up from his hair and beard, and, were it not for the ghastly grey colour of his skin, Kelewulf might have believed Horst Rivengeld were merely sleeping on the cold stone plinth.

The boy shifted his attention to his father’s lifeless face. He felt no swell of emotion, no remorse at this man’s passing.

I’m glad you’re dead, old man, he thought. My only regret is that I was not there to hear you cry out as the spear pierced your side. I would have liked to have seen the look on your face when you gazed into your killer’s eyes.

Kelewulf’s relationship with his father had never been a happy one. They were too different. Horst Rivengeld, like so many of the Volken people, believed in the way of the warrior. So when it became clear to the king that his son had no interest in the art of war, the man had become desperate, trying everything in his power to change the boy’s nature. When words and admonishments failed to have the desired effect, Horst had resorted to more physical methods. But the beatings, intended to ‘toughen up’ his son, had merely turned Kelewulf even further away from him. The simple truth was that the boy was too much like his mother.

Queen Elenor’s marriage to the king had not been for love. Instead it had been a political match, intended to mend the historical rift between the Bantusz of the south and the Strom kingdom Horst ruled. As a foreigner, she had little regard for the ways of a people she considered to be barbaric and backward. Rather than aiding her husband in trying to mould Kelewulf into the type of son the king wanted, she turned her son’s mind to books and the power contained in them. She told him about the majik her people had learned, and how they had used it to defeat barbarous invaders like the Stromgardians. She taught him about history and geography. She taught him that true power lies not just in the sword, but in knowledge.

As far as the king was concerned, Elenor’s actions were not driven by a mother’s love. Instead, he believed she was using the boy as a means to defy him. Whatever her true motives were, they had ultimately cost the queen her life.