Chapter Thirty-Five

The expedition set out early, led by an overexuberant general and accompanied by a grumbling and irritated Caroline and Bearnard. The Dreamers seemed put out from the get-go, lagging behind and whispering often to themselves while Murdock Kelly rambled on to anyone who would listen how excited he was to join Robert on his quest. Sebastian frowned at the rest of those tagging along; so many extras who should have been left behind. There was a royal chef, a dozen or so attendants, a chronicler, sixteen riflemen, and an expert birdwatcher—all overkill, and likely to impede the prince’s chances of actually bonding a bird.

“Think he’s truly an expert?” Robert asked Sebastian.

“Who?”

“The birdwatcher. I mean, he could be useful, but if he starts tasting bird scat I’m turning back and headed to the palace.”

The prince’s joke caught Sebastian mid-swallow from his canteen, and he spit water all over his horse.

“And why’s Amash’s chef here? He cooks eggs or poultry with every meal. Isn’t that a bit counter-intuitive? Seems he’d chase off every bird for a hundred miles with his menu.”

“I think he’s here on Cuyler’s behest, in case you actually find a bird,” Sebastian said with a laugh.

“Yes, that seems right.” Robert spurred his horse to catch up with the general. Sebastian followed.

“Ah! Prince Robert!” The general seemed more than pleased to finally have a chance to visit with the heir. “Perhaps we can have that chat you wanted?”

“That was my hope, General. I was wondering, did you fight in the war?”

“I most certainly did! Valiantly so, that’s how I earned my commission.”

“Where did you fight? And for which side?”

The general’s face turned thoughtful, as if choosing his next words carefully. “I fought in Eston,” he said under a cloud of dark memories, “and fought evils unimaginable. As for which side? It wasn’t for your father, nor was it for King Marcus. No, I fought against more than northern invaders during that battle. I defended humanity itself.”

“I don’t understand, wasn’t the Battle of Eston a fight between Braen Braston and my uncle?”

“It wasn’t as simple as you describe, and nothing we fought against was human. Even the northern marauders fought like demons! As for your uncle? He’s another story altogether. I curse the day he put on that crown! No, The Battle of Eston was a shit show! We fought against all kinds of unholy terrors that night. I was on the western wall when a massive wall of water crashed against our gates, killing half our army in a single surge. And that was only the beginning!”

“Why isn’t any of this in the history books?”

“King Amash didn’t want the full story recorded, fearing the general public would panic. Said the people weren’t ready for the truth.”

“I think the people deserve the truth.”

“Mighty noble of you, Your Highness, but trust me… they weren’t, and still aren’t, ready for this truth!”

Robert pondered the general’s words for a while, then changed the subject. “You’re awfully young for a general, aren’t you?”

“I’m old enough.”

“But you can’t be forty summers!”

“I’m not, and that’s all you need to know,” Kelly said with a wink. “I joined up early. Two years early, to be honest, and I proved age doesn’t matter. Take you, for instance. I’m sure you’re worried how you’ll be received, taking over as king soon, and barely seventeen summers. I was leading men by the time I was your age, leading them into all kinds of scrapes and situations. But I led most of them out again, and that’s what matters. Do the best you can, and I’ll follow you.”

Robert couldn’t believe his ears. This man earned more of his respect each time he spoke. “Thank you. I’m sure will speak much more on many topics.”

“Many more times than you’ll want, Your Highness.” They rode quietly for a moment but the general, who Robert now realized hated silence, changed the subject. “How are you going to deal with the problem your uncle created?”

Robert froze, unsure how to answer and caught off guard by the question. It had come so abruptly, slipping into conversation without the jovialness normally carried upon Kelly’s words. So the man’s a politician, as well. He looked up at the young general, now waiting patiently for an answer and not allowing the prince a retreat. “What problem is that?” he asked.

“King Amash is a wonderful man, one I’ve admired during my ascension to this position, and I consider him a friend. But he and I—and many others, for that matter—disagree on a single policy. While Master Cuyler, Percy Roan, and I caution him against trusting the northerners, he has welcomed them into every city with open arms.”

“My uncle sees good in people, it seems. Why should we judge a group of people for the actions of a few?”

“That’s been almost exactly his words to us, but he sees trees when there’s an entire forest.” the general agreed. “If only he could see the bigger picture!”

“And what’s that?” Robert asked cautiously.

“There’s no such thing as a good northerner. The entire Kingdom of Fjorik is tainted, full of covetous spite fueled by centuries of raiding instead of proper farming! They have always taken what they want instead of earning or building it for themselves.”

“They haven’t raided in my lifetime,” Robert corrected, “and their immigrants are mostly peaceful.” As soon as he uttered the words he thought of Greta Greenbriar, the northern girl who bullied Tara in the schoolhouse, and of Peta Grenwich, the northern blacksmith’s son. Neither of the teens had proved peaceful, revealing themselves eventually as liars and troublemakers who took what they wanted at the expense of others.

“You have a lot of experience with Fjorikan migrants?”

“I do, actually. Many have settled Loganshire over the years.”

“Well, I can’t speak for those choosing the countryside as well as I can the ones who chose city life, but trust me when I tell you there’s no such thing as a good Fjorikan. Theft and violent crime in Eston alone has doubled in the past five summers.”

“That doesn’t mean they all crave bloodletting,” Robert insisted. “They don’t walk around murdering and pillaging every day.”

“Nonetheless, many of them have berserker blood. It fuels their anger, burning like lamp oil and just waiting to be kicked over to ignite the entire barn. No, the only good northerner’s the one who stayed home to cool their flame in ice and snow.”

Robert stared blankly at the general, once a man he thought of as high caliber—brave and righteous. Now he viewed him differently, as a narrow-minded bigot. Another thought crossed his thoughts and he blurted out, “How do you feel about Pescari?”

Murdock Kelly’s response surprised the prince. “I don’t give two shits about them; I’ve never fought one. Think of me however you will now, Your Highness, but know this—once a group of people attack your home and slaughter your mates, a soldier may forgive but never forgets. I don’t hate just to hate. I speak from experience. There’s no good Fjorikan!”

Sebastian, who had listened quietly until this point, spoke his mind. “You’re wrong, General. I knew a Northman who I respected and loved like a father. He was fair, true, and worked only to unite instead of destroy.”

“Is that so?” Murdock Kelly asked with amusement. “And he never let you down in the end? Never turned so violent in your presence that you feared for your life or lost others around you?”

Sebastian opened his mouth to reply but paused mid-response, silently gagging on a memory while his mouth worked out the words he’d suddenly lost.

“That’s not fair, General Kelly,” Robert chastised. “Sebastian is a wonderful judge of character and I, like him, choose to believe there’s good in everyone.”

“Then you’re doomed to failure, Prince Robert, destined to fall victim to the whims of those more ruthless and worldly than you.”

Robert felt a sudden urge to challenge the man, to demand he reveal his own intentions in regard to the crown. How dare he speak to me that way! he thought. I’m… He was about to remind himself of his title but froze. I’m not a prince, he realized. I’m a farm boy from Loganshire with a title, but I know nothing about thinking or acting like a future ruler. He swallowed anger and spoke as calmly as he could. “General Kelly, I’m certain you have your reasons to distrust the northern people of Fjorik, but we must agree to disagree about how they should be treated as a whole.”

Abruptly, Caroline and Bearnard spurred their horses and raced to the front of the procession.

“General Kelly and Prince Robert,” Caroline exclaimed breathlessly, “there are outlaws in a clearing nearby.”

“Where?” the general demanded, sitting higher in his saddle and waving over one of his junior officers.

“Half a league to the north.”

“So close…” he mused. “How many?”

“At least twenty, all fighting age and well-armed,” Bearnard answered. “They know we’re here and are gearing up.”

“How do you know this?” Robert demanded. “Neither of you have bonded birds!”

Caroline snapped, “Be quiet, Your Highness, and let us figure out a way to get you out of here.”

“But how?” Robert insisted

“We have other ways to see across distances,” Bearnard explained.

“We need to get the prince and the civilians to safety,” Caroline insisted.

The general frowned at her words. “I think it’s too dangerous to egress the prince, Dreamer. If they know we’re here, then they have scouts watching our flank already. No, at this point we should keep him protected and close by while we deal with the camp. Surely my riflemen and you two Dreamers can handle twenty outlaws.”

“Arm me,” Robert insisted. “I can fight.”

“No,” the general refused. “Can you hide the civilians with your magic, Caroline?”

She nodded.

“I can do that,” Sebastian offered, trembling slightly at the thought of danger so near.

Bearnard frowned and Caroline snickered. “Coward,” she muttered.

“Gather the civilians,” Kelly commanded his officer, “and the prince’s man will camouflage them. Stay with the prince and keep him safe.”

The soldier saluted and went to work gathering the entourage.

“I assure you I can fight,” Robert insisted.

“No need,” the general snapped. “The battle will be over quickly. Your Highness, please gather with the others.”

Reluctantly, Robert allowed Sebastian to lead him away. They dismounted and huddled between the chef and the birdwatcher while the general and Dreamers planned strategy.

“I don’t like this,” the prince muttered to his friend.

“They’re right,” Sebastian whispered. “We have to protect you.” With the wave of his hand, a web of air formed around the gathered civilians, reflecting the light around them while hiding the entire group from view.