Chapter Text
It was the thirtieth fall to dawn in the kingdom of Lipier since the rebellion of the Wylde Folk had started, and a fine fall day it was: the sun rose golden over trees still dressed in fiery-colored leaves, the sky was clear and blue as far as one’s eye could see, and a breeze carried with it the last vestiges of summer’s warmth. Farmers arose to tend their herds and to harvest the last of the fruits and vegetables of the fields, merchants stocked their stores for another day in the markets, and in the palace the prince of Lipier was looking forward to starting his day with a ride outside the castle walls before his duties called him back indoors.
Prince Mark was in the middle of eating a hurried breakfast in his bedchambers while his servants dressed him for riding in garments of lightweight silk and softened leathers. He was impatient to be off, but he was known for being impatient and impulsive in many things. He knew the two knights who usually accompanied him, Sir Tyler and Sir Ethan, would be already outside and awaiting him by the time that he emerged at the stables’ gate. His horse, a coal-black friesian stallion named Thunder, would already be saddled and awaiting him, his reins held by the senior stablehand James. He knew that they already anticipated his needs but just for once he’d enjoy being able to beat them to the punch. Alas, today it was once again not meant to be. He glanced in the mirror and raked his fingers through his unruly mess of black hair, making a note that he needed to get it trimmed, before he headed into the hallway and down the stairs to the stables. Sure enough, there was Thunder all ready to go, with Sir Tyler and Sir Ethan already saddled up on their own horses, both Andalusians and both of dappled gray coloring. He saddled up with a quiet “thank you” to James, before turning to the two knights. “Gentlemen?”
“We are at your service, my prince,” Sir Tyler said while placing a hand over his heart and leaning forward slightly. He was the senior of the two and thus held the right to speak for both of them in the prince’s presence unless Prince Mark directly addressed one of them. Sir Ethan did, however, replicate the gesture as Sir Tyler bowed forward in his saddle.
“Excellent. Then we ride out.” He clicked his tongue and Thunder sprung forward eagerly, just as ready as his rider to embrace the morning’s freedoms. Both knights immediately fell in behind him, and the three rode quickly out the palace gate into the open fields surrounding the capital city of Lipier. Prince Mark immediately urged Thunder to a faster pace, the stallion increasing his speed to a gallop, as the trio rode for the trails that wound through the very edges of the thick and eldritch forest just a few hundred yards from the walls of the city. The prince did not slow his steed until there were trees on either side of them. Behind him, Sir Tyler and Sir Ethan both came up at slower speeds than he had ridden in at. Prince Mark turned and smiled at the two. “You two and your precautions. You’re so dull.”
“And yet if you keep riding into the woods like that, we’ll be the ones to outlive you,” Sir Tyler retorted as he brought his own horse up alongside Thunder’s shoulder. All three men seemed to visibly relax at once at that. In the woods, the rules could change. It could be three friends, rather than a prince and his bodyguards. “How goes the lessons on your new role?”
“Ah, military training.” The prince waved a hand in the air. “Really, all I’m expected to do is say ‘go to that place’ and people underneath me do all the actual planning and ordering. I don’t even see why there’s a need to train me at all.”
“You do ride out the with troops, though.” This came from Sir Ethan, who trailed behind the pair. “Perhaps they’ll cover something regarding commanding them in the field soon.”
“I certainly hope so. I have far more entertaining things to do with my time than to sit at a table and hear about tactics and old grudges. Though I will say this: I’ve been drawing up plans to finally take down the Wylde Folk.”
“Really?” Sir Tyler’s eyebrow quirked. “And how are you planning to do that? No one even knows where their village is any more.”
“I’ve heard it told that they worked with the elves and the dryads to make the woods hide where they are,” Sir Ethan added.
“Father has sent out agents to spy for him,” Prince Mark replied. “We have a good idea of where they are, and who has been aiding them.”
“If you manage to do that, you would go down in history as the prince who ended the rebellion.” Sir Ethan sounded a bit in awe.
“The king, you mean.” Prince Mark squared his shoulders, looking over his shoulder long enough to address Sir Ethan. “The king who ended the rebellion.”
“Oh-! Yes, of course. The king.” Sir Ethan glanced at Sir Tyler, who raised a hand from where it had been resting on his leg and ever so slightly waved it once- twice- back towards the younger knight. Sir Ethan knew this gesture too well now. Prince Mark had become more and more wound up with the thoughts of his future since being given the reins to the military of his father’s kingdom, which meant his moods tended to be fickle. “My apologies, your highness. I misspoke.”
“Your apology is accepted, Sir Ethan,” the prince intoned before falling quiet. For a time, the only sounds around them were their mounts’ footfalls on the earth below and the natural sounds of the forest. The next time the prince drew up his horse and had the group halt, they were up in the hills, overlooking the city below through a clearing in the trees. He cleared his throat before speaking. “It is rather amusing to think of how I used to ride up here only a few months ago and look down on all that and think it was too much to be handled by one man.”
“Indeed.” Sir Tyler sounded distracted, though, and Sir Ethan immediately began to look around for what the other knight had heard or seen. “Your highness… far be it from me to be commanding you, but something here doesn’t feel right today. I think it’s in your best interests if we were to return.”
The prince briefly looked as though he was going to snap at the knight, but then he nodded. “I trust your judgement, Sir Tyler.” He started to turn his horse back towards the trails down the hill when the first arrow sunk into the tree just next to his head. “What in the hell-”
“Sir Ethan, crossbow at the ready!” Sir Tyler was already loading a bolt as he looked at the prince. “Ride, sire! We’ll cover your escape!”
For the first time in his life, Prince Mark was genuinely fearful of dying as he spurred Thunder onward. As the black stallion fled into the trees, Sir Tyler turned to Sir Ethan.
“Cover him, Ethan. I’ll give you two time to get away!”
“Tyler-”
“Go!” Sir Tyler’s hand moved almost immeasurably fast against the flank of Sir Ethan’s horse, and the beast lunged forward in its surprise. Sir Ethan found his seat quickly enough and glanced back long enough to see something leap from the trees at Sir Tyler, who was shouting in the attacker’s face. “For Lipier-!!”
Sir Ethan turned his gaze forward again, leaning against his mount’s neck to keep himself from doing something as foolish as getting knocked from his saddle by a branch. The soil ahead was kicked up by fresh hoofprints, so he knew that the Prince was still on the move. For the moment, that was all that he cared to know about. Crossbow still in his hand, he urged his horse down the hillside as fast as he dared, knowing that a single misstep could kill them both. He could hear something coming on behind him, just as he could see Prince Mark ahead. “Sire, go-!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. “Keep going!” He turned to fire backwards- only to find an attacker at his side, swinging a club into his head. In an instant, he was off his horse, though he was automatically on his feet to engage the enemy. He watched as Prince Mark disappeared around a bend and pulled his sword instead in order to try and slash his attacker down as quickly as possible.
Further down the hill, Prince Mark was now very aware that he was still quite a ways from the palace gates and down both his bodyguards. The forest that he had so looked forward to disappearing into only an hour ago now seemed foreboding and lethal as he recklessly had Thunder go down the hill at as close to a gallop as the horse would let him, both rider and steed completely unaware that they were no longer on the trail that they knew so well. He glanced behind himself to see if Sir Ethan or Sir Tyler had rejoined him, when he was suddenly knocked from Thunder’s back. The last thing that he would register was staring up into the glimpse of that perfect blue sky that appeared between the tree branches, before he landed headfirst on the knobby roots on a pine tree and was knocked unconscious.
* * * * *
Morning passed into afternoon, and afternoon into early evening, before anyone would come across the prince. His horse had continued on its way without its rider, so for all the world it appeared that the crown prince of Lipier had decided to take a nap at the base of the pine tree he was laying at.
It was as the daylight was fading that he was discovered by another party of three. A short, stout man in sturdy if battered armor with a beard, a male dryad, and a man dressed in all black stood back a ways, looking at the man. It was the dryad who spoke first.
“What do you suppose even happened?”
“Hard to say,” the short man in armor replied, picking up a stick to poke the prince in the hip. When there was no reaction, he dropped the stick and stepped back. “Brian, check if he’s breathing.”
The man in black moved up next to the prince’s head, putting two fingers under his nose. After a moment, he nodded.
“Well damn. He’s alive, at least.” The dryad looked between the other two in his group. “What should we do?”
“Well I’m not about to go trotting up to the gates with him. I’ll be shot on sight, same as you.” The shorter man gestured at the man in black. “And Brian swore a blood oath to never go back in there until the King’s dead.”
The man in black pulled a knife from a hidden spot and looked hopefully at the prince’s chest.
“Brian, I don’t think stabbing him to death is going to help him any.” The dryad gave him a look until the knife was hidden away again, either ignoring or unphased by the dirty look he got in return. “Maybe we ought to ask Sean.”
The man in armor grinned. “That’s not a half-bad idea. If nothing else, he stops being our problem, right?” He chuckles. “Load him up, boys. Let’s take him to the Wylde Folk. I’m sure that Prince Sean would love the opportunity to meet him.”