"Eric, what are we doing out here..."
The greenery was crisp and fresh, and sunlight filtered through the trees. Wildflowers sprung in scattered patches of grass and light, and the loamy earth cooled the air in the shade of the trees. It was a beautiful day for a walk in the forest.
"We're walking, Philip. Look, isn't that the prettiest shade of pink you've ever seen?"
The blond knight groaned into the open air, his shoulders hunched under the weight of his pack. Fortunately, the hapless sod that was his liege was carrying his own pack and not making him take it as well. Still, this was a fool's errand.
"No, your highness, I mean what is our purpose here? As in: what are we doing in the bloody woods alone when there is a plot against your life?"
The deep golden strawberry hair was ruffled by the shorter man's thick hand. It was a trait he shared with his father. Broad shoulders and muscled hands. He wasn't fat, though the girth of his neck and wideness of jaw made him seem vigorous and healthy.
"I'm not alone, I'm with you. Besides, who's going to recognize us?"
Philip sucked in a breath to prevent him from shouting at his best friend.
"Paid assassins. And by alone I mean without your usual guard detail. I'm hardly adequate, Eric. With or without your crown."
"That's why we're in disguise, my friend. Relax, no one is going to find us here. This is the same wood that kidnappers escaped into and were never discovered, not even after four years! And besides, I don't know who in my detail to trust anymore. We're better off by ourselves. I didn't even tell anyone where we're going."
"You call this a disguise? We look like well off merchant's sons. You're even wearing your favorite shade of blue! You stand out."
It was no use really. Philip would argue with the second prince for hours, and he'd never get so much as a full bellied laugh out of him. He was too naive. Too good natured. If they were going to make it to wherever they were headed, it would be an act of God that got them there.
"Eric...why do--"
Philip exhaled sharply and went silent. The prince looked around to see why his friend had suddenly stopped his yammering. They were entirely alone in the woods and, as he surveyed the path behind him he realized he was now entirely on his own. Philip's sword lay on the ground.
"Phil?"
"Hngh... I don't get paid enough for this."
Eric had to tilt his head back at an uncomfortable angle to see his knight dangling by one foot with his tunic and shirt riding up. He was ten feet above the ground.
It was a trap.
"Money. Now."
The voice was soft and muffled but brokered no argument as Eric felt the tip of a blade at his throat. His eyes moved to the dark and hooded figure and he wondered how they had missed him. It was a lad nearly as tall as he was, yet shorter. Though his black leather tunic and hood made him wonder how a youth could afford such things. Ah, but then he was robbing them.
Eric put on his friendliest grin.
"Greetings! Your trap, then? It's quite good. Say I give you my purse, will you help me get my friend down?"
The air was deadly still, and he surveyed this young highwayman. For a moment he considered parrying the blade away from him. He'd had training and plenty of matches where he'd been successful in it. But there was something in his eyes that told him it was a bad idea. Eric looked more closely.
His stance was perfect, as if he'd done it a thousand times, and there was a certain air of deadly leisure in it. The longsword, an excellently crafted one as well, pressed further into his skin and he was sure he was going to have a scar from this if he got out of it alive.
His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, raising his arms in a sign of truce.
"Alright, man of few words. I understand. Let me just get it."
"Slowly."
He'd no sooner reached the coin purse about his neck than the whistle of wind made his assailant tuck and roll before him, a bow drawn and its arrow missing. A distant thud carrying the sound of its purchase to them. Eric looked at the tree at his side, a first arrow embedded in it. Off by inches.
The assassins had found him. He pulled his sword.
"Get down, you fool!"
Eric shook his head at the boy. No Löwenkind had ever backed down from a fight. He grit his teeth and took a defensive stance. The dark figure side stepped him easily and pulled their own sword, shrugging as Eric had dismissed his command.
"Your funeral."
The sounds of men marching forward let them know they were surrounded. The boy in black shifted so they were back to back as they faced the coming onslaught. The first person to come out of the underbrush was dressed all in a faded green to help them hide in the trees and foliage. A clever camouflage. Although he was quickly cut down, and the prince had only taken half a step to engage them. It was not his kill.
There was no time to focus on the bloody knife embedded in his throat though.
A man came out running at him, sword and dagger drawn and a shout as he lunged for the prince. Eric dodged and parried his sword, but had to kick the lesser blade from his grasp as it swung for him. The assassin was not so easily thwarted though, as he put his full strength into his sword.
Eric was pushed back, but blow for blow he was keeping up. It dawned on him these were lesser assassins, or at least this one was. Still, he could hold his own against a prince of the Palacials. That was something worth bragging about. And he probably would if he killed him.
The blade came down hard, and he pushed it back with all his might. He was preparing to thrust and run the blaggard through, but in an instant--as though time had stood still for him to see this too quick moment--the boy in black dashed backwards, went onto his hands and back, and as he came up in passing behind his foe rotated and slit his throat before returning to parry the sword of his own assailant.
Eric's jaw dropped.
He took a step back to see the carnage about him.
The team of assassins that had come upon them were easily being dispatched by the boy, this forest robber.
The prince watched with a quicker eye as the youth's deftness with blades became overwhelmingly apparent. He was lithe and faster than he'd expected. The assassins were no match. It was a wonder he had never thought to be an assassin himself, he was better than most he had seen.
The hood and tied kerchief about his nose and mouth only allowed the smallest glimpse of his eyes. Green. Dark forest green.
"Is anyone gonna let me down from here? Anyone? Eric?"
It took him a moment to register the bodies around him were no longer moving. He glanced up to his friend and felt a tug about his neck before realizing his coin purse had been taken. The black cloak of the robber disappeared behind a fallen log and that was all he saw of him.
"Ouch!"
Philip fell atop a few bodies as his rope had been cut. Eric still stared off in the direction the thief had gone.
"Good God, that kid was a pro! I don't think I've seen this many men taken down by just one person before!"
He stepped carefully through the oozing carcasses. Horror written across his face. But Eric could not help the smile on his own.
"Let us pray we do not cross paths with him again!"
The ginger prince sheathed his sword.
"No, I pray we do..."
...
It had been close.
Just how long had it been since she had been attacked out here? A year? Clearly they hadn't forgotten about her. Or at least the robber known as Merit.
Her small camp was easily packed up in minutes. Things she'd bought, bartered for, and stole over the years. A small pot, knives, a sack of barley, salt, more knives, cutlery, books, herbal tea, wound poultices, a needle and thread, more knives, and her bedroll. All fit easily enough in her rucksack, the black fox pelt covering it all as she strapped it to her back. The fire pit she buried and covered in dead leaves. No one could follow her.
Merit took a deep breath, her adrenaline still on high alert.
Birds sang in a disjointed chorus and at least she knew their song enough to know there was no danger nearby.
She pulled the ripped flyer from her hip bag.
"I've got more than enough for the entrance fee now. Just gotta set up on the other side..."
Merit readjusted her pack and began the trek to the far side of Howenchester Glen.
...
Eric was smiling.
It was weird.
"My liege, you could at least take your safety into greater consideration now. I was literally tied up and couldn't aid you. There were nine of them, not counting the archer who was shot down at the first. And you faced one alone! What would have happened to you if that black bandit hadn't dispatched them for you? Hmm? I've seen you fight four men at once in training, but none of them were trying to kill you like these were... Would you stop smiling like you're just the luckiest slob on God's green earth?!"
"Hmm?"
"I'm done. I can't do this anymore. We're going to die out here. I'm going to die out here. Why? Because my best friend has a target on his back and said 'lets go to a festival' and I said 'okay' like a blithering idiot. It's inevitable. We shall die in the woods and nobody will find our bodies. Gwen will never know I lived or died, and it's all your fault."
Eric's blue eyes shone with mirth in the firelight, clearly enjoying the tirade. Philip stirred the coney pottage and added a few chopped turnips to the soup. He was good that way. He could cook.
"You still never talked to her?"
His head whipped in disbelief at the strawberry blond head.
"That's what you decide to respond to in all of this? No, of course not. When would I have time? I'm being dragged up and down the territories by the little street rat who recruited me and then surprised me he happens to be the prince of the whole land when we were nine! No offense, I love palace life, but I really wish we were there now and not having to look over our shoulders. Namely me looking over both of our shoulders because you have a devil may care attitude towards your predicament!"
He laughed at that and leaned back into the cedar tree he'd claimed for the night. The glow cast a warm and wonderful glow across everything. Owls could be heard in the forest high in the tree tops, and there was nothing for it but to sit back and enjoy it.
"Relax, Philip. Please, your stress is bad for my health. The night is beautiful isn't it?"
The knight grumbled on about things like lack of personal awareness and never finding love. All the while he stirred his creation and then scooped out two hearty bowls. By the time he offered the dish to Eric, an idea had solidified in his head.
"We go to the festival tomorrow. We're going to have to keep our wits about us."
He took a spoonful of dinner in all while ignoring the confounded expression of Philip's as his leaked back into his bowl.
"Just at the festival? No wits on our way? What's so special about this festival you've hardly told me anything about?"
He sipped at the savory broth and wished they'd had the mind to bring some crusty bread with them.
"It's called the Thieves Festival."
Philip's spoon fell fully into the pottage.
"Thieves Festival? You don't mean..."
"We're going to gain intel, find out who has put a price on my head. A secret one at that. Discover their networks and ultimately who is behind all of this."
The knight looked thoughtfully at his prince. Understanding and amusement coming over him at the same time as an impending sense of doom. He exhaled a deep sigh.
"Hah, you're still the same. And I wonder why I'd follow you to Hell's gates..."
Eric chuckled lowly at that.
"Because I have a bone to pick with the devil himself, and a winning plan."
The two finished their soup, watching the smoke stream up into the night air, amidst the canopy, and then to the stars above. They talked lowly, making plans for the morning. Who they would be at the festival. The types to look for. Why they're there.
"I say we're looking to hire someone for the caravan protection. If we're merchant's it makes for a good fit."
Philip snorted, "Yes, looking to hire a thief to protect goods in transit. Because it's not like all the thieves will hear about it and then target it."
"It doesn't exist, Phil. Hence we can look like hapless fools trying to do something they could rob us blind for, all the while it acts as a cover for our true purposes."
The blond head shook with disbelief and a raw exhaustion.
"You really do have everything figured out, don't you? I really can't wait to meet your fiancee. Whoever your father has arranged for the meeting must be some sort of match for you."
"Indeed..."
He didn't share with his friend his own unease about the meeting the next week. Stories of the past and the attempts at his life the past few days were enough to put him off marriage talks. It didn't matter he was nearly twenty-four, he'd rather not die over a land war because someone else wanted his bride.
"I know that look, Eric."
"It'll be Rick tomorrow. You best practice now."
"Nice deflection, but I still know that look, Rick."
He sighed, breathing deeply the smell of wood smoke and the night breeze.
"You remember Drakkis?"
"We almost ended up in a war with him, how could I forget?"
"Yes...and then the union between him and Varish was botched. It all came together so neatly. We were the next to be invaded...you don't suppose our people killed their princess?"
Philip seemed sleepy and turned on his side, propping his head up on his hand off the boulder behind him.
"Doubtful. Her fiance is still looking for her you know. They have hope."
It set some ease in Eric's bones. He'd hate to think his father or brothers had had a hand in the kidnapping. Even if it did mean it saved thousands of lives. She'd been an innocent princess of sixteen.
"Yes...hope."
"Get some sleep, Rick. We've got an early start in the morning."
He nodded, but continued to stare into the fire. Sleep evading him as his mind worked over a puzzle it had tried at many times before.
"Yes...to Howenchester Glen tomorrow."