Free A Noble Estate by A.C. Ellas

likewise retrieved a banner, which Jisten assumed to be the device of the crown prince. Both banners remained in their leather casing for now.
    Jethain had also availed himself of the opportunity to bathe and was now dressed as regally as if he’d just stepped out of the throne room after audiences. He grinned at Jisten. “Ready for this?”
    “Why wouldn’t I be?”
    “Ready for what?” Rak asked.
    “Jisten has to present his grants from the king to the steward to make it official. It’s considered a special moment, for after this, he will be a landed noble, not just some hedge knight.”
    Jisten smiled sheepishly. “That’s why I wanted to stop and change.”
    “I just thought you wanted to smell more like river weed and less like avtappi,” Rak teased gently.
    “There is that,” Jethain agreed. “River weed is a subtle perfume, though, and might not outcompete that soap of yours.”
    “We Okyrans always put the orange citrus fruit into our soap,” Dolron said peaceably. “Smells good and gets things clean. Works really well on grease, too.”
    “I wasn’t complaining,” Jethain said. He glanced at the sky. “Are we ready?”
    “Yes, my prince,” said Jisten, swinging into Zala’s saddle.
    Rak mounted Vyld a moment later, and everyone else was mounted shortly after that. Dolron and Largo took point, their cased banners looking like a pair of odd lances. Jisten, Rak and Jethain rode three abreast with Jisten in the middle, followed by Sedrael and Pikara. Liast and Tebber came next. Fentri, Tegaelin, Orste and Kal brought up the rear, alternating who rode before or behind the wagon.
    Scorth had chosen their stopping point well, Jisten discovered, for less than an hour passed before they could see the road posts marking the formal boundary of Relyt Manor. Dolron and Largo removed the leather casings from their banners and shook them out.
    Jisten had seen the Thezi banner before, but he still took a moment to admire it before glancing at the other one. Jisten blinked in surprise, for it wasn’t Jethain’s sigil embroidered on the fabric but his own.
    “Do you like it?” Jethain asked. “I had it made when you selected your device. Been looking forward to seeing you use it.”
    “Thank you,” Jisten said quietly. “I like it a lot.”
    Now looking much more official, the party crossed between the posts and the packed clay road abruptly turned into paved stone. By the time they reached the manor house, a three-story edifice that spread out before them in an almost ostentatious display, several men stood waiting on the receiving porch. Dolron and Largo parted, turning their avtappi to either side, and Jisten led Jethain and Rak between them and right up to the porch. The standard-bearers resumed position behind them, and the entire party came to a halt.
    A tall man, with greying brown hair and sagging, tired-looking features, stepped forward. “I am Steward Cisteon, the manager of these lands. Who might I have the honor of addressing?”
    “I am Captain Jisten Kydem and Baron of Relyt.” He offered the leather folder holding the grants.
    Cisteon took the folder, opened it and carefully read the grants inside. “I see, sir. May I say it’s a pleasure to have you? It’s been a long time since Relyt had a real hand at the helm, although I’ve done my best, of course.”
    Jisten smiled tightly and resisted the urge to intone “you may,” as gravely as possible, just to see how the steward would react. Instead, he said, “Accompanying me are Crown Prince Jethain and High Priest S’Rak. Please make them feel as welcome as possible.”
    The steward bowed to them all. “Of course, my lord. Please, you must all be tired from the road. Come inside and I will have refreshments brought at once.”
    “Not quite yet,” Jisten said. “First, I want to meet my people. All of them.”
    It took some time and some firmness on Jisten’s part, but eventually, Cisteon had all the people brought out. In