Slave Line (The Young Ancients) by P.S. Power

fight with you again. Make my brother look like a little girl. Still, thanks for the healing there, I can get back to thrashing this thief again then. Might as well be at that now." He moved toward Richard who just raised an eyebrow and pointed toward the back of the room, where a good three dozen people stood, holding weapons, slowly moving toward the man.
    It was an odd group, made up mainly of young people, or ones that looked young, most of whom were dressed in purple and black outfits not so different from what Tor was wearing, if slightly more colorful. He really did like the purple, even though his was in a stately solid black. Behind them came a larger man, Smythe of Westend, who also had a weapon out and a bunch of Royal guards. Behind them though, looking most professional stood an armed Quavel and Kenner the communications device answering boy.
    The King, distracted, pointed at them with another raised eyebrow, getting Tor to shrug.
    "They heard you were being attacked, so came to defend you. Representatives of their land and all that." It was, as far as he could tell, just a simple fact. Oh, true, Quavel had probably come to make sure the Queen was safe, since she'd been his whole job for over ten years, but the basic idea was the same. Tor ignored them then, as if having enemy spies running around with weapons was perfectly normal and turned back to the King's brother.
    "I don't suppose you'd like to explain to me why you were attacking the King and calling him a thief? Before we lock you up in your room without supper or whatever punishments the royal brother gets when he messes up. A spanking maybe?" Tor wasn't trying to be funny, but almost everyone laughed.
    The man, who Tor had never met, was a giant. Well, a lot of people around the palace were, but he was bigger than most of them, bigger than the King even, by a bit, about two inches or so, making him about nine feet four inches tall. Not the biggest man Tor had ever met, but close. Oddly enough the man looked at Tor when he spoke, except for a few fleeting glares at the King every few words.
    "He, is a thief, because he's keeping my stipend from me. Claiming I only deserve half of it for some reason. Probably pocketing the rest. That's my birthright, and keeping it from me is against the law. One he can't change either. Written that way to stop things like this. I'll go to war over it. Stupid..." He turned as if to start fighting again, which made Tor pissed suddenly. It wasn't his fight, but still, attacking the King over gold was moronic... and trying to hurt your own brother was even worse.
    "Stop that." Tor moved in front of the man, not knowing his name. He glared though, trying to remember it. Something Rolph had told him once.
    "Kedrin, is it? Alphonse and the girls Uncle?" He waited for the man to tell him he was wrong or something.
    "That's right. I'm sorry, you are...?" This came out in a gentle enough fashion, almost polite even.
    He was well trained if nothing else, at least when it came to people not his family. Then, for all Tor knew it was only his brother than he'd fight with like that. Shameful though.
    "I'm Tor. Friend of the family, which makes me your friend too I suppose, so don't make me order the kitchen to only serve you cold potage for supper. I'll totally do that by the way." He would too. That or end the man where he stood for attacking his friend. The only thing stopping him was the idea of the man screaming at him all night while he tried to sleep like the others had done the night before. It wasn't very restful.
    Oddly, for some reason Kedrin smiled and spread his hands.
    "Of course. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Excuse my... displeasure. I simply came to get my annual draw and found that it was being kept from me. I've rather spent a lot of it already and owe several, shall we say, noble individuals, recompense for work already done. True, I won't be harmed if I fail to pay in a timely fashion, but I gave my word and