Prince Kristian's Honor

by Tod Langley

Chapter 3

  The Escort

  The sun had just come up over the mountains in the east as the mounted soldiers of Erand rode towards the coastal kingdom of Duellr. The cavaliers, dressed in their light gray coats and red pants, carefully scanned the trees on either side of the road. Their heads constantly moved from left to right, the long horse-hair braids decorating the tops of their helmets switching from one shoulder to the next. The land the company was riding through was famous for its beautiful fields of wheat and shaded woods, but the cavaliers took no chances in these dangerous times, especially considering the importance of the escort mission they were on.

  The lieutenant in charge of the advanced guard stared with contempt at the man riding in front of his formation. All morning long, Mikhal Jurander had tried to convince the prince of Erand that for his own safety, it would be better if he rode with the main body a mile behind them. The prince ordered him back to his company with a sharp rebuke every time the young officer tried to broach the subject. So, Mikhal resigned himself to the task of ensuring, as best he could, that the prince would not be surprised by an ambush.

  The cavalry officer was convinced that Belarnian spies were keeping track of the company’s eastward progress and had sent a squad of his soldiers ahead to scan the sides of the road.

  “Look for assassins or anyone that doesn’t belong in the area,” Mikhal ordered.

  When the prince demanded to know what the soldiers were doing, the young cavalier had simply answered that they were going ahead to ensure that no locals would impede his travel. That was the one time Mikhal had seen the prince smile.

  “What a pompous jerk,” Mikhal thought.

  “Good morning, lieutenant. How are you faring this beautiful day?”

  Mikhal instantly recognized the voice as his commander came up from behind. “Sir, I would feel better about my orders and my chances of accomplishing them if ‘His Royal Highness’ would listen to reason and stay with the main body.”

  “Well, he is such a fine-figured and good-looking man, it would be a shame to hide him in the middle of a formation where his devoted followers could not see him,” the captain responded, waving his hand with a royal flourish. Mikhal’s mood began to lighten.

  Mikhal Jurander was the brightest, young officer in the cavaliers. He was selected over a hundred volunteers to be an officer in the finest cavalry regiment in all of Erinia. At only twenty-two years of age, Mikhal was one of the youngest officers ever so honored, and he was also one of their best soldiers. Mikhal did not look like most Erandians; he had blue eyes and short blonde hair. He was also taller and slimmer than most of the other soldiers.

  There was something different about the way he carried himself; Mikhal was a natural leader. He had overcome much to get into the regiment. Most of the officers in the cavaliers were hand-selected as youths from the richer families in Erand. That he was able to make it this far despite coming from a farming settlement showed how much potential Mikhal had already demonstrated. Mikhal continued to maintain his discipline and humility even after achieving what he had always wanted. This was why Mikhal was well liked by all of the men. Some day they knew he would be a commander in the unit.

  For now, he only wanted to be more like his own commander, whom he respected above all others. Captain Alek Hienren had a great sense of humor, and the seasoned officer was always able to put his men at ease, no matter how much stress he was put under.

  “You can’t tell anyone what I am about to tell you, Mikhal. It would be inappropriate . . . I shouldn’t even tell you, but,” the commander started. “The king spoke privately with me one night before we set off on this little adventure. He called me into his personal chamber where he was sitting in his favorite chair warming himself by the fire and he said to me, ‘My son is an idiot.’”

  “No?” Mikhal cried out. Startled by his outburst, he quickly looked ahead to make sure the prince had not overheard.

  “‘My son is an idiot,’ he told me, and I could not help but laugh! I had to immediately regain my composure for fear of being thrown into a cell next to the church where they chant all day. But he just smiled at me and said that if I could ensure that his son reached Duellr in one piece and proposed to Princess Allisia then he, in turn, would ensure that I was handsomely rewarded,” Captain Hienren chuckled adding, “So you see, Lieutenant Jurander, my financial freedom depends on you keeping a cool head.”

  “Were it only so easy,” Mikhal responded. The prince was sitting straight up in his saddle, oblivious to the conversation behind him. He looked as if he were in a parade, passing adoring subjects. The imaginary crowd must be applauding his heroic feats with great enthusiasm, both officers thought.

  “Captain, come here for a moment.” The two officers were somewhat unsettled to hear the prince’s voice. The captain sighed and then grudgingly rode up to the prince.

  “I am concerned about the lack of planning that I have, so far, seen in regards to our campsites.”

  “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but I don’t understand.”

  “We’ve been on the road for three days now, and every night we have found the most inhospitable, out of the way locations to sleep. I am sure that your men are quite thoroughly discomforted and would appreciate a more relaxed campsite.”

  Obviously, the prince was leading toward something that he had already decided would be best for all of them. However, Alek also knew the selection of campsites had been left up to Mikhal. Mikhal chose every site thinking only of the prince’s safety. Alek had no idea how he was going to make their prince understand.

  “Your Highness, our locations for resting are chosen to ensure your safety. My men understand the importance of this mission. You must reach Duellr safely and propose to the princess, thereby ensuring Erand and Duellr join forces against the growing threat from Belarn. Besides, my men are used to much worse than this. Thank you for your concern, but they can manage.” Alek hoped he had clearly outlined the reasons for the necessary security measures. He also wished that just once the prince would act more like a soldier than the spoiled child that he was.

  “Well, I’ve heard there is a village not too far from the main road. We could be there by mid-afternoon. I bet your men would enjoy the opportunity to drink a mug of ale.” The prince either did not understand their situation or he did not care.

  “Again, I appreciate your concern for the welfare of the company, but to stop in a village would not only delay our progress, it would also put you at unnecessary risk from spies and even Belarnian assassins.” The curt manner Alek used to speak with the prince, like they were at court, was about to tear the commander apart.

  “Belarn! You must have been subjected to the false propaganda of my father and his overdramatic council. The royal family in Belarn has no control over any of its subjects, let alone control over its army. But, now that you have brought it to my attention how concerned you are for the safety of this company, I wonder how capable the cavaliers really are.”

  Alek ignored the provocation. “Your Highness, I’m just a soldier. I don’t understand politics, but your father does. If he believes it’s important for you to get to Duellr to marry their princess then I must believe he knows what he’s doing,” Alek explained.

  “My father must have thought of everything then,” the prince replied sarcastically.

  “Maybe she’ll be beautiful, and you’ll be the luckiest man in Erinia,” the commander joked.

  “Not likely. Ever met a thin Duellrian?”

  “Well then, maybe she can cook,” Alek suggested happily.

  “Your humor is not infectious, commander. I find nothing funny about being ordered to marry a fat, spoiled child,” the prince snapped.

  Spoiled is something you would have in common, at least, the officer thought but did not say. Instead, he tried another approach.

  “Sometimes, our duty must–”

  “Stop! Don’t lecture me about duty, Captain Hienren. My father has taught me more than I
ever wanted to know about the subject.” The young man turned in his saddle to look at the officer.

  “Do you know how many opportunities we have wasted with Belarn? How many border wars have they started that we could have finished? Our duty was to protect our lands not let those mongrels ravage it. Where was my father’s sense of duty then?” he asked, almost shouting.

  The commander was taken back. “I apologize, Prince Kristian. It was not my place to lecture you.”

  The prince was about to say something else, but held his tongue. “Just show me the way to a place where I can have a drink and a little privacy. I’ve felt the eyes of your men on my back since we entered the woods.”

  “There is no reason for you to be out in front of everyone,” Alek said.

  “Never let it be said that I didn’t set a proper example for the men, Captain,” the prince replied.

  “They’re cavaliers. They know what right looks like,” the commander shot back. The angry look the prince gave him let the officer know he had gone too far. “If, Your Highness would like to lead the way toward this village, my men will try, as best they can, to protect you. If you have nothing further for me, I must inform my officers of the change.”

  The prince smiled, “No, Captain Hienren, you are dismissed.”

  The cavalry commander had never felt such hatred toward anyone before, but as he trotted away from the prince, he started to laugh remembering the king’s words, “My son is an idiot.”

  By the time he reached Mikhal, he had a huge smile on his face. He announced, “We’ll be stopping in a village this afternoon. The prince seems to know the way.” Alek headed back toward the main body.

  Mikhal looked forward at the stiff back of his prince and frowned. He would have to send someone to the village to check it out. “Damn him,” he swore, and then he called for his sergeants.

  Prince Kristian of Landron heard the lieutenant call for his subordinates. When he thought no one was watching, Kristian let his shoulders slump forward. He sighed, looking down at his gloved hands in frustration.

  “Duty,” he told himself. “Duty.”

  “When will you learn this lesson, Kristian?” he remembered his father berating him one day. “Someday you will rule this kingdom, and you must understand your duty.”

  “I’m trying, but part of what you’re saying doesn’t make sense,” Kristian had complained. “You talk of duty like it is an abstract thing. Something I will encounter during a quest, but it isn’t like that. It’s something I face every day.”

  “Oh, Kristian,” his father replied in a patronizing way. “You’ve never had to face a true challenge … nothing that has tested you as a man or a ruler. One day I hope you begin to understand,” the king replied.

  “One day maybe you will understand me,” Kristian mumbled as he left the room.

  Kristian looked back down at his tight grip on the pommel and forced himself to let go. Frustrated, he looked behind him wondering why it was taking the lieutenant so long to get his men on the right trail toward the village.

  Kristian figured they would nave no choice but to follow him if he led them on. He spurred his horse hard and did not look back.

  The Erandian escort crossed over into Duellr late the next day. The road snaked up through the wooded Disam Mountains for many miles before it crested at the Tarin View Pass. It was a bald mountaintop with two small hills. The road went through the saddle of the two hills and provided a fantastic view of the Duellrian capital. Argathos was still miles away, but from where Mikhal stood, they could see its magnificent spires and palace towers reaching to the sky. The sun reflected off the Tarin Ocean, highlighting the yellow walls of the city.

  Argathos was a crowded, bustling trade center. The city covered many of the foothills that sloped down from the Disam Mountains toward the ocean. The patrol noticed several large merchant ships anchored in the protected bay. Others were moored along the docks that littered the harbor. People hurried about loading and unloading the ships that were bound for the Old World.

  If there was ever a city in Erinia that might reflect the culture and architecture of the Mesantian kingdoms than it has to be Argathos, Mikhal Jurander imagined. The escorts had all stopped to gaze in wonder, including the prince.

  Eventually, their eyes shifted to the cliffs north of the capital, to the seat of Duellrian power. The palace grounds were on a small rise atop the cliffs that overlooked the Bay of Argathos. The castle was small compared to those in Erand, but more beautiful because of the care demonstrated in its architecture. Terraces and balconies jutted out from the three-story home so that guests would have outstanding views of the ocean. The most spectacular part of the palace was rumored to be a wall of glass that faced east. The blue stained glass was a magnificent sight that all travelers commented upon.

  Mikhal sighed, glad they had made it safely and that his mission would soon be over. He did not even care if he saw the window or even stepped into the palace, as long as he did not have to look at the prince for a while.