A Clash of Magics by Guy Antibes (read this if txt) 📕

guard who pointed out one of the training facility’s administration buildings. Trevor had been there once when he needed a new belt for his dress uniform. No one would remember him.

“Here for the tournament?” the woman at a counter said.

“They said there would be free room and board for the next three days. We thought we might save a little of our money and get a little arms practice in at the same time,” Win said.

“That you can. The soldiers like outsiders to participate. King Henry used to draw knights and soldiers from all around. Our tournament isn’t so well attended since Queen Hyra rose to power, but you’ll find it a challenge.”

“Sounds like fun,” Trevor said, thinking that Win and he could gather more information before the dreaded confrontation with his mother.

“We have an empty barracks on the other side of the field.” The woman took their names. “You are Viksarans?”

Trevor nodded. “I’m originally from Jilgrath, and Win lives in Jiksara. We fought in Maskum together.”

“And we were dismissed from the army after we returned to Viksar,” Win said. “We thought we’d try our luck in Presidon.”

“Do well in the tournament, and I’m sure you’ll be able to get an invitation to join Presidon’s army,” the woman said. She made a notation on a ledger and handed them cards with their names and her signature.

“Take this to the quartermaster’s office in the building across the practice field.”

Trevor frowned as they left the administration building. “I’ve been there before,” he said. “Someone might recognize me.”

“Not with that beard,” Win said. Neither of them had shaved since they left Jiksara.

Trevor rubbed the long stubble. “Maybe not.”

“You never missed a day shaving,” Win said.

Trevor shrugged as they mounted and trotted across the training grounds. No one recognized Trevor as they handed the cards to the quartermaster. Trevor had met the man before, but the quartermaster barely looked up. “You can share Room seven on the third floor.” He gave them both a few papers. “Keep the registration page on you at all times, or you’ll be asked to leave the training grounds.” The man waved them away.

“My heart is touched!” Win said after their encounter with the brusque quartermaster. “I suppose we are merely fodder to show off the capabilities of Presidon’s best.”

“Boxster and I were Presidon’s best,” Trevor said as they trudged up the stairs and ended up in a tiny room with two beds just far apart enough to put a single chair. A double shelf ran above each bed, and the lock on the door didn’t have a key. “Not the most comfortable of beds,” Trevor said as he pulled back the covers revealing dirty sheets. “First, we will wash these so they can dry out before nightfall.”

They carried the sheets downstairs and asked where they could wash them. There were a tub and some soap by a well at the next building. After washing the sheets, they hung them from the shelves and closed the door.

“Time to see your mother,” Trevor said.

They were on the side of the training grounds closest to Win’s old house. Trevor had been to Win’s mother’s house a few times, but most recently, they had been on the run from the queen’s forces. They reached the house on foot. If there were any problems, Trevor could teleport them out of harm.

Win walked up the steps and wiped his hands on his trousers before knocking on the door. A strange man answered.

“I was looking for Marin Fenton,” Win said. “My father asked me to look up his cousin.”

Trevor could tell that Win was shocked by the stranger.

“She moved a few blocks away when she lost her job in the castle. I’ll write down her address.”

The man gave a slip of paper to Win and closed the door. Win stared at the paper. “She lost our house,” Win said.

Win knew the street, but it was a long one. They walked through the city until they came to a building of flats. No one cared about them or gave two scruffy men a second look. Win looked down at the address and up at the building. “Second floor, Flat one.”

They climbed up the stairs and stood at the door to Flat one. Win knocked on the door, and he looked anxious as the door opened.

“Win!”

Win leaned over and hugged his mother for a long time before she ushered them into her flat. Marin Fenton had shoved a houseful of furniture into the flat, but the woman looked well.

“I wrote,” Win said. “You should have said something.”

Marin Fenton looked at her son, but Trevor could see shame in her eyes. “I didn’t want to worry you. I made enough money on the house to live comfortably for five or six years. I cook at a local restaurant in the evenings. You can both stay here,” she said. “Who is your friend?”

There wasn’t room for three people in the flat. “We have accommodations elsewhere,” Win said. “Sit, and let’s talk. You may not believe it, but this is Trevor.”

Marin’s eyes grew wide. “It is Trevor! You shouldn’t be in Presidon. Everyone knows the queen wants you dead!”

“I was attacked by her assassins on my wedding night less than a week ago,” Trevor said. “My wife was injured, and I vowed to put a stop to her viciousness.”

“But to come to Tarviston!”

“I’ll find a way,” Trevor said. “You and Win have some catching up to do. I’ll just make myself at home and try not to listen,” He smiled at the former royal cook.

Win spent the next two hours talking with his mother. It wasn’t enough, but the woman had to get to the restaurant.

“I can feed you,” she said.

“No,” Win said. “If we are seen together, someone might figure out