Glad that the prince wasn’t looking, Quent got up clumsily. His stomach rumbled, demanding food. He quickly spoke so the other wouldn’t hear.

“Quent, your majesty,”

“Quent who?”

“Quent… Maester Quent?”

“I asked for your name, not your title.” The prince strode back to his chair and sat down, his hands in his lap, looking at him from a distance.

“It’s just Quent, your majesty.”

“Last time I remembered even the lowest of peasants had a surname and if they didn’t they’d wear the name of their father.”

“I’m not allowed to use that name,”

The prince tilted his head slightly. “Why not?”

“No member of the Citadel has a last name because they belong to the Citadel. If I were to have a surname it would be ‘of the Citadel’ but we’re all from there so no one ever uses it.”

“Maester Quent of the Citadel.” The prince said it as if he was testing the taste of something. “It makes it sound like you’re almost someone. Now surely you know my name, Quent?”

“Uhm, yes, your majesty.” What was with all the questions? Wasn’t he just supposed to protect this guy? Why were they getting personal all of a sudden?

“My name, mage. Not my title.”

“Oh. His Imperial Highness Prince Oweahen Alleth Saebest Torrynia-Trost, Third of His Name.” He knew he had remembered that ridiculous name perfectly. How couldn’t he? Prince Oweahen’s name, title and portrait hung above every teacher’s desk at the Citadel, right next to that of the Archorceress. Oweahen after Oweahen the Bold, Alleth after his mother Alletha, Saebest after the previous Archsorceress Saebesta, and finally Torrynia-Trost from the two noble houses that always provided a monarch. There had been two first-name Oweahen’s before him, so that made him the third.

“Then what does that make your name?” the prince asked.

Quent thought for a moment and then knew the answer. Of course this royal prick considered Quent to be his now. Well, he wasn’t wrong. He just needed something that ringed nicely subservient.

“Subject Quent of Oweahen his Imperial Majesty the Prince.” He decided to skip ‘the third,’ that’d probably bruise the man’s ego. No one liked to be ‘the third.’

“That’s right but it’s too long for me.” The prince decided. “I’ll just call you mage. But from now on you go by that name. Now eat whatever’s left from my breakfast while I get dressed. I have a long day ahead and you even a longer one.”