King Vance sat on the floor with his wife’s lifeless body in his arms as the blood of their wounds mingled on the floor below them. He paid no attention to the eight soldiers that lay dying on the floor around him – their blood still dripping from his sword. He knew his reign over the kingdom was over. The stomach wound he had received when the soldiers stormed their bedchamber would guarantee a long and painful death. He also knew there would be more soldiers following soon who’s intent would be that his death be somewhat quicker. However, with his wife dead and his son most likely dead, he swore that he would bring down as many of the assassins as he could before they had the satisfaction of killing him.

Tearjon hid behind the first large tree he could reach. The woods swarmed with soldiers and hiding was difficult. Prince Logan, a child a little more than half the historian's height, stood clinging to Tearjon. When Tearjon looked down at the prince he realized the boy was not clinging, but pulling. "The stables," he whispered, "We should be able to breach the wall from there." Tearjon was amazed. This child was years from being a man and yet he not only was calm during the crisis, he had located an escape route. Despite what some had said, nobility ran deep in this child. He followed as Logan led him behind carts and boxes to cover their movements.

When they reached the stables Logan pointed to a small wagon. "Wait here," he said as he began to climb the rough stone walls of the stable. Tearjon just watched in amazement. Logan had long ago demonstrated a remarkable ability to climb. That did not keep Tearjon from admiring the boy's progress up the wall. Logan moved quietly into the window above the stable doors and disappeared. Several minutes passed and one of the large stable doors opened slightly. Logan's little face looked out and he motioned to Tearjon to join him. As he did, the historian heard shouts in the distance. He was sure he heard one say King Vance was dead. He hoped he had heard wrongly, but knew in his heart that he had not. He had to see to the safety of this young King Logan.

“I’m a historian,” Tearjon thought to himself as he followed Logan up bundles of hay to the opening on the other side of the stables. “How can I possibly keep him alive until he’s old enough to take back his throne?” The sound of several quiet whistles broken his thoughts. He turned in time to witness a guard dropping into the hay with arrows embedded in his back. Tearjon and Logan moved to the edge of the hay to see the captain of the guards, Jeiyed, bringing his bow down and removing a bag and rope from his shoulder. “You’ll have to be more careful if you wish to keep yourselves alive.” He moved to the edge of the hay and tossed the bag and rope. “You’ll need these. There are several guards I still trust to be loyal to the king. They and I can keep you covered until you are beyond the walls of the kingdom. That is the best I can do for you. My loyalties are to the people of the kingdom no matter who rules it. King Logan,” Logan’s eyes widened with a hint of fear as he heard his new title for the first time, “We will be here for you when you are ready to return. And Tearjon.... I pray you live to tell the history of the day King Logan returns to his people.”