Edward 3

 

The next morning brought a chill with it. The spartan camp was cleaned up quickly which left a bit of time to obscure the signs of their presence. The fire pit was buried and the entire area was covered over with pine needles and random fallen branches from the surrounding forest. Not for the first time Edward lamented the lateness of the season and began to hope that their errand didn't take too long. The last thing he wanted was to be stranded in a hostile kingdom due to the weather, should their diplomacy take a sour turn.

After gathering the horses and taking care of their necessities, the men continued on their way through the ridge and began the upward portion of their journey into Latamis. They continued through the mountains at a steady climb for three more days in much the same fashion. Edward continuing to worry in his typical stoic manner, John eating his way through their reserves and helping to spar with their small band of soldiers, and August studying the plants and trees along the way while taking an impressive amount of notes in his book and cracking jokes at his friend's expenses. If not for the difference in destination, it would have been much like any other journey they'd taken together.

Edward knew more of their diplomatic mission than his lower ranking counterparts. He'd made the captain of his guard aware of what might happen should the talks fail. But other than Rylan, the only other person who knew of the plan was the King, his father. He had been the architect of this idea and this son, the Black Prince, would be the executioner.

Though the mountain path seemed to rise and fall in waves, they were progressing farther and farther up. Some of the men were having trouble breathing up until the final day when they descended into a deep valley. The brisk breeze that had plagued them through the final week seemed to leave them as they entered a stillness for which the Asteryos valley was famous.

Pine trees made way for grand Oaks and Rowan trees. August could not fathom how such trees had made their way into such a high valley in the mountains and made sure to tell everyone in their party several times as they made their way into town. The party quieted as they approached the increased habitation signaling their arrival.

The main gate to the town was located just inside the settlements to the south, where they had entered the crescent shaped valley. To their surprise, the doors that should have been there were missing and only a lone sentry was standing watch in the tower looming above the large entry. Clearly they had little need of such precautions as a door, a testament to their mountain location and historically peaceful kingdom. It's easy to taut the virtues of peace when you've never risked getting involved, he thought bitterly.

It took more than an hour and a half of walking their horses to reach the inner wall that housed the enormous castle. Idly, Edward wondered how many of his father's castle would fit inside those walls. He'd heard about the grand gardens around the structure and wondered what beauty he would see inside. His father valued strength, justice and many other intellectual pursuits. Gardening was not high in his estimation so the castle garden of his home was limited to food and medicinal items.

The entry to the castle keep had a similarly large entry, but unlike the first entrance, this one had large doors that were closed. Rylan rode ahead to announce their arrival. Word had been sent ahead that they would be coming to visit, but no doubt they wouldn't have expected them as soon as they'd arrived. Edward was pleased that they'd been able to be early. The sooner they were done the sooner they could leave and the sooner he could resume his life, having satisfied his obligation to his demanding father.

He imagined them scrambling to accommodate his small band with a smile.

“So, this is what makes you happy, is it?” John was at his side with a tired smile of his own. Edward's melancholy had reached new heights with their climb into the mountain kingdom. It wasn't as if he had anywhere better to be, he just didn't want to be there. This marked the beginning of the end of his task. The fact that he could irk such a flabby and historically complacent kingdom was merely icing on the cake.

“You realize, of course, that we're a full two weeks early.” His smile widened to a smirk. Peace made people lazy and the thought of forcing them into action gave him an unexpected thrill. After waiting on restless horses for almost twenty minutes they were finally allowed inside the gate. They left their horses and a few of the soldiers with porters at the door. The remaining party were welcomed into the main thoroughfare by eager servants. It seemed strange to him that they all greeted him and his party with such large, familiar smiles. None of them had better attempt to touch me, he thought to himself.

Just inside the inner door of the keep the royal family was standing in line by rank. At the top of the stairs was their recently widowed king and his eldest daughter, Cora. Edward had heard tales of her cunning but not of her beauty. She was the color of honey milk with a crowning glory of golden curls half pinned up with careful precision. Cora was the only one of the fifteen people lined up to greet them that wasn't sporting a wide, tooth filled smile. True to the gossip, she was smart enough to know why they were really there and it had nothing to do with trade routes.

“Greetings and salutations, Prince Edward of Odeira. Well met and welcome to our kingdom.” The king himself issued the greeting with a smile as bright as the sun. Edward, not for the first time, held in a heavy sigh and put on what he hoped was a charming smile and attempted to return the greeting.

It was painfully obvious that they did not get many visitors of his ranking or stature. He couldn't even find any evidence that they had a court of any kind outside of their own family. A part of him was envious that they didn't have to deal with the machinations of lesser royalty vying for favor among the aristocracy and clamoring for attention from the king and his sons. If it had been their kingdom, a servant would have announced each of them in turn from lowest rank, not counting the lower soldiers of course, up to his own title.

Without the buffer of traditional routines, Edward was at a bit of a loss. Cora, without missing a beat, picked up on the awkwardness of the situation and sidestepped her father.

“Please forgive our King. Our dearly departed Queen was a master of the finer arts of diplomacy. Perhaps we should reconvene this evening after the Prince and his subjects have had time to rest and refresh themselves after such a long and rapid journey?” She looked at her father now, who turned his beaming smile to his daughter and nodded magnanimously.

“That sounds amenable to me, dear sirs. What say you, your Highness?” The king was addressing him directly now. Edward wanted to laugh. What a mess of a kingdom. He wondered idly which of the four daughters would agree to his brother's hand in marriage when this was all over and done with, if any of them. Whoever it was would be absolutely eaten alive in their court. All except, possibly, the scowling Cora. For all her beauty, frost was coming off of her in waves. One way or another, one of them was coming with him. He also had plans of taking whatever handmaiden that particular princess might employ. But that was a problem for later, if at all.

Edward nodded curtly, snapping his heals together at the same time, in a long practiced move. They might be inept at how to treat visiting royalty, but that didn't mean that he had to drop his own decorum. Standards must be kept at least on one side of this mess of a mission.

Edward 2

 

Not for the first time, Edward mused about their mission and absentmindedly scanned the horizon again. He scratched at his beard and smoothed it, deep in thought.

“You could try washing it. I've heard that's helpful.” Edward looked over and down to his friend Augustus van Williamson, the Baron of Grimspire, another neighboring kingdom. He was shorter than him by almost a head and not as good in a fight, but he was smart and had a great propensity toward being lucky. He was also a good friend and someone who knew him better than almost anyone, except perhaps their mutual friend John Malcolm, the Viscount of Roserun. He had to laugh at the comment, though he barely cracked a smile.

“You're one to counsel people on hygiene. When was the last time you bathed yourself?” August laughed dryly at the retort.

“We both smell like old cheese and horse.” He shook his capped head and a sprig of dark hair fell in his face. “Still, it could be worse.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“We could smell like our dear John.” They both looked over to their friend who was already sitting at the fire, eating something vaguely potato shaped with his signature ravenous abandon. His blond hair was breaking free of its yoke and hung in greasy clumps around his face. He had obviously heard his name and perked up.

“Hey, I am right here if you wish to say something to my face.” The two friends began laughing and went to join him by the fire. Edward's unease was lifting somewhat, but he'd feel better once they were at their destination.

Edward

Edward scanned the horizon for the hundredth time since they'd stopped in the small clearing at the edge of the ridge. Despite every reassurance from his guide and from his men, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something out there. Following them. He'd already sent out two men, one to scout forward and the other to scout behind them, just to satisfy his inkling. They'd returned with very little to report that could not be seen from atop his own horse.

“To what purpose, my lord?” The small, heavily bearded man they'd contracted in the village inquired. “Are there alternative reasons to your journey?” It was a simple enough question, but Edwards temper threatened to get the better of him. There was no way for him to know that they had a darker purpose than a simple jaunt to the next kingdom. Or to have any idea how far they'd journeyed already. He studied the man's red beard and bald head for a moment, letting his anger dissipate lest he do something rash. The middle aged man stood, slightly breathless, wringing his floppy cap in his hands nervously. Edward was frightening him. If he was wont to admit it, he liked frightening people he didn't know.

Taking a breath, Edward dismounted from his horse and allowed the man to tie it up with the others as he joined his spare group of men in making camp. The ten men with him had journeyed far in a relatively short amount of time and it had been a great boon to their travels when they'd happened upon the guide. Hamish had already cut what could have amounted to a weeks worth of travel by leading them over the ridge instead of around it as their maps had suggested.

In hindsight, he might have taken less men so that he would have been able to carry out his deed quicker, but that would have meant arousing suspicions within his own court and that would not do. Whatever lands and titles he held, there was still work to be done. Evil to counter and alliances to be formed. There were great corruptions, vulgarities and malignancies throughout the land that had to be dealt with if good people would be able to thrive. Granted, he was the product of such evils, but that was more the reason that he should be the one to try and right those wrongs.

No, whatever else anyone thought of him, being the bastard son of the king meant that he had certain responsibilities that his brother would never need worry about. Edward raked a hand through his thick, shoulder length hair. The deep brown had picked up warm gold highlights from their extended time in the sun.

The only real positive of the journey was that he hadn't had to worry about shaving and his beard had been allowed to grow in over the last three weeks. Not only did it help to mask his identity, but it helped to give him a greater air of experience and gravitas among the young men of his group. He was not much older than many of them, a few scant years to their early twenties but a couple of them were his elders both in experience and in age. Then there was also the Viscount, his friend John, and the Baron, their friend Augustus. Counting himself and their guide they had twelve people. If their mission was successful, they would have fourteen people on their return.