Almost Freedom - Christian

Everything looked to be in proper order as Darian neared the end of his inspection. Although he could hear footsteps approaching him he believed it to just be the curious stable boy until the Prince’s voice floated down to him. He straightened up in a flash as soon as he was aware he was in the royal’s presence. One fisted hand flew up over his heart as he bowed slightly at the waist, his armour clinking together softly.

To become a member of the King’s Guard there had been much he had to learn of courtly courtesies. There were rules for everything he could think of – how to address a royal or courtier, what honourifics to use, where to direct your gaze, the list was seemingly endless. Some nobles stuck hard and fast to those rules, others would shirk them off. One glance at the Prince had Darian guessing the young man was of the first variety.

“Yes, Your Highness,” he quickly answered, “Everything is prepared. We leave at your leisure.” As the Prince’s eyes travelled down Darian stood up straighter. He knew he had nothing to be ashamed of – he wore the regalia of a member of the Guard, exactly what was expected of him. However it was true that some of his gear showed the signs of years on the field. Deep scars and nicks traced along some of the metal work where he had taken blows from enemy strikes, and the leatherwork had been harshly faded by the sun in places. But he did not need to wear the posh clothes of a Prince to do his job. He had been selected to serve because of his talent in combat, his discretion, and his valour. No amount of fine cloth or gold could change that.

“Darian Alistair,” he responded, already knowing that the Prince had likely forgotten his name the moment it passed his lips. What use had he of the name of one of his subjects? If he was anything at all like his father, Darian had no doubt that the Prince would scarcely be able to pick out one of the Guard from any other man. Not that he begrudged that fact. The rulers had far more pressing matters on their minds than the name of one man.

Darian turned to see the stable boy backed up as far away from the pair as possible. He waved him forward. “Come here boy, and assist Prince Christian to mount.” With another quick bow to Christian, Darian started to walk off to his own horse. As he passed the stable boy he stopped him with a hand on his shoulder for just brief moment. “Good work,” he murmured quietly. The boy looked like he was on the verge of shaking. Perhaps it was his first time in the company of a royal. Darian offered him a small, encouraging smile and surreptitiously pressed a small copper coin into his hand. Good work was to be rewarded. He patted the boy on the shoulder twice before leaving him to his work.

Once more he checked all the bags he had packed for the journey were securely fixed before mounting up himself. Setting out he knew that he had far more than they were likely to need, but he would rather be over prepared in this instance. He did not really know the Prince’s temperament except for the rumours he heard from his fellow guards and the gossip spread by the twittering women of the castle. For his sake he hoped the tales were grossly exaggerated.

He looked over towards the younger man. “Is there anything else you will need before we set out Prince Christian? It might be a while before you see home again, Your Highness.”

---

Christian Byzantir

The supple leather of his gloves creaked softly as he picked up the reins, already feeling more at ease than he had in a long while. There was a very good chance this would be a fairly straight forward venture, and it gave him the chance to get some of the rank city air out of his lungs. He was eager to get started.

The Prince was the biggest unknown element to contend with. His face was all but unreadable to Darian. A harsh glower that betrayed nothing. Doubtless that was the result of years of etiquette training, but on a journey of only two men it would make things more difficult. He would have to hope that the Prince would be compelled to a sweeter disposition by the fresh air and a good ride.

The guard was taken aback by the compliment. He had gotten used to royals who knew that the world waited for them. Patience was never a question, it was an expectation. An inkling of a smile crossed Darian’s face as he nodded to his Prince. “There is always time for patience, especially on a journey like this one.” He paused for a moment, knowing it was not proper custom to ask a question of the royal family – especially anyone from House Byzantir – but they would both be better off if Darian had an idea of how experienced the young man was. “Is this your first survey of the lands my lord?” he asked smoothly. Inside he felt a trip of apprehension, fully expecting a reprimand for his impertinence. But if he knew where the Prince stood, he would know how best to keep him safe.

“As you wish,” he said before clicking his tongue to stir his horse. As they trotted forward he spared a small nod to the stable boy. He could remember being that age and reverently following every move of the soldiers and knights around him, already dreaming of glory and honour. There had never been a question in his mind that one day he would join them. And so he had.

Darian steered his horse to the left side of the Prince’s. He tried to leave as much room as possible between the two of them, though there wasn’t much room on the cobblestone street. The horses’ hooves clacked rhythmically along the hard stones as they swayed. Darian was suddenly very aware of how long it had been since he had taken a long journey on horseback. By nightfall he would be feeling the effects in his legs, he was sure of it.

“Is the plan to take the traditional route?” he asked before quickly adding, “To start in the North by Arana and work our way south along the main road?” He said this as much for Christian’s benefit as for his own. He couldn’t be sure how much the King had bothered to tell him of the route, or whether he had deemed it necessary at all. Although Darian was to act a guide and protector he knew that there were times when the King would want to change the route and visit an area out of order. Why? No one but the King himself could be sure, as no one dared ask. Perhaps the Prince was fonder of one aspect of his kingdom than another and would want to start in a familiar region. Perhaps he would want to visit one of the noble houses of the land to ensure they remained loyal to their rulers.

As they rode through the streets Darian’s eyes were constantly scanning the surroundings. They were more likely to be attacked within the city walls if someone truly wished to do harm. Here there was plenty of dark alleys to slip down, vendors’ carts to hide behind. Although Darian loved the people he would never hesitate to draw his blade against them in protection of the Prince. Already he was looking eagerly at the gate that would lead them to the wider world outside.

As they wrote his right hand rested on the pommel of his blade. Ready for the slightest sign of unrest.

---

Christian Byzantir

The Prince’s words caught him off guard. “An indirect route, sire?” he asked. He couldn’t deny that he too would love to travel through the wheat fields and green hillocks, revelling in the sight of so much of nature’s untouched beauty, but at the same time he also saw the danger hidden therein. On the road they were sure to meet highway men, robbers, and the odd mercenary, but out in the country there could be worse dangers, and that far out there was little hope of help. And yet…there had been few reports of any real trouble, and who was he to question the Crown Prince of Escar?

“To do so would mean sleeping rough,” he cautioned, “chances of a hot meal and a warm bed would be few and far between out in the wilder parts of the land. Though not impossible…” he trailed off. Darian had spent nights cooking on a meagre campfire and sleeping under the stars before. Those were some of his best memories. He looked over at the Prince in his finery. Although Darian knew he would be fine, how would the Prince fare? He didn’t look as though he would enjoy the feel of the hard ground in place of a feather bed. But he had to admit, he was almost impressed that someone as cultured as Christian would even entertain the idea of going off the beaten path. His father certainly wouldn’t have. “It might be dangerous away from the main road as well,” even to him, the warning sounded half-hearted.

Prince Christian was proving to be full of surprises. The last thing Darian expected was to be asked of the lands far beyond the castle by the king-to-be. But then, it only made sense. A wise king knew of the lands surrounding him and the dangers they posed. Darian lapsed into silence for a moment, thinking of all the lands he had visited. Not all were happy memories.

“Yes…,” he finally said, his tone hardly more than a whisper. “There are sights up further north that cannot compare to anything we have in these southern lands. There was a time when the army would travel north in search of the raiders that attacked the outlying communities. We drank from the Norasova river and watched as the sun rose over hills and valleys never touched by man. It was unlike anything I'll ever see again. Everything was so colourful and lively. No bare grey stone walls to keep everything penned in. We had to make our own paths as we went, it was as though no one had been there before. There are still things I wonder if anyone but us ever saw.” Darian’s eyes no longer saw the stone path as they trotted outside of the city walls. He was seeing that first glint of red as the morning sun peaked over the northern mountain ranges. He was remembering the crystalline waters of the river that shone in greens and blues, so clear that a man could watch the fishes swimming upstream and the animals that gathered along the shores. But not everything was beautiful in the north. It was a harsh place for man to enter. “But there is also danger in a land as wild as that. The Dark Woods are a treacherous stretch of forest contaminated by magic and sorcery and all kinds of foul things. The creatures there are twisted and rabid. It's a source of evil and darkness. We lost many good men to that damned place.” Men disappeared from the campsites at night, most to never be seen again, some to come back raving mad. On the last scouting Darian had been on, they had come back with only half the men they had set out with. “And there are rumours that the Plagued have started gathering in the north now. Festering more like,” he grumbled, a dark look in his eye. Suddenly he remembered himself, and who his present company was.

“But you need not trouble yourself with things that far north. What happens out there cannot affect us here. We only need to go as far as Arana.” While Darian had been lost in his memories they had finally made it outside of the city gates. He turned in his saddle to look back at the castle. “Well sire, take one last look at your home. Now we head out to see your future kingdom,” he said with a small smile.

---

Christian Byzantir

If possible, Darian pulled himself up even straighter in his saddle. To question his ability to protect the prince was akin to an insult on his honour. “Of course not, my lord," his tone a tad affronted. At the back of his mind he was very aware that he was only one man, and should trouble arise there was only so much any one man could do. But his pride and his own foolishness overwhelmed his common sense for a moment. It hadn’t slipped passed his notice that the Prince was unarmed, but he could hardly expect the Crown Prince to do any real fighting should they find trouble on the road. No, it was his task, and he had faith in his own resourcefulness. “I promise you shall come to no harm so long as I’m with you.” He knew what penalty awaited him if the Prince got so much as a scratch – the King was not rumoured to be a very forgiving man.

Darian reined his horse in as the Prince stopped to look back at the castle. He could only imagine the trepidation the young man was feeling – it was a wide and unforgiving world they were setting out into, though he couldn’t help but feel as though the Prince didn’t really appreciate just how dangerous it could be. The older man caught himself looking longingly at his home as well. Although he thoroughly enjoyed the missions that carried him beyond the city walls, it was his home and he knew the feeling of relief that he’d feel when he returned to it. There was no sweeter sight after a long time away.

“Yes, you are right, sire,” he nodded his head gravely. “The dangers there creep ever closer, but The King has placed a regiment of the finest men from the Royal Army to keep a watchful eye on our borders. Should something be stirring, we will know of it.” Undoubtedly there would come a time when the foulness of the North began to seep towards the cities, but Darian had every hope that he would never see such horrors again in his lifetime. Perhaps a visit to those soldiers would be enough to quell the Prince’s interest in the Northern lands. The Guard certainly hoped so. “If you wish, we could visit their camp. They could tell you tales of North…”

His lips pursed into a thin, concerned line. Prince Christian was proving to be an impetuous charge, unfortunately there was little Darian could do to dissuade the young man. There was no question from the younger man’s tone that the subject was no longer up for debate, but the soldier sorely wished he could reason with the royal. Instead all he could do was mumble, “Yes, Your Highness,” and hope that the lad changed his mind before they got as far as the Northern borders. One gloved hand twisted in the reins, his mind already filled with visions of the perils that awaited them. He had hoped this to be a quick and straightforward voyage…it seemed his hopes were to be unanswered.

What the Prince said next actually made good sense. Too many rulers were too far removed from their people. They had no real concept of their hardships and struggles. Darian looked over at the Prince will a small twinkle of admiration. “A fair and just ruler knows his people,” he agreed. “If you really wish to know what really happens in these lands I can show you. The people have spent too long being unconsidered in the affairs of state.” he trailed off knowing that not everything they would see would be to the Prince’s liking. “But you might be surprised by what you see,” he warned.

“I meant no disrespect, Your Highness,” he slightly bowed his head. A child? No, not a child. A royal. A royal who was about to learn the harshness of the land he ruled over. He turned his horse to face away from the brick road and point toward the less travelled dirt path shaded under the canopies of many ancient trees. “We should leave now sire, if we hope to find shelter before nightfall.” Darian gently eased his horse into an even trot, knowing he would have to be gentle on the beast if they were going to take the back roads. Truthfully, it might be more direct taking these paths, but there were also more loose stones and holes – traps that could incapacitate their mounts.

After a moment of hesitation Darian spoke again, hoping he was not being too bold. “If you would know how the people truly think and feel…It would perhaps be better if they did not know it was the Prince himself in their midst,” he quietly suggested. Not only would Christian get a better idea of the climate of the kingdom…but it would also make Darian’s job easier if it were not obvious whom his riding companion was. After all – a Prince’s ransom fetched quite a price these days.

---

Christian Byzantir

Darian was surprised the Prince took to the idea of a disguise so quickly – surprised, and a little relieved. He had been afraid that Christian might have taken offence at the idea of having to pretend to be a member of the common folk, but it seemed as if the idea almost excited the young man.

Already ideas were churning in the guard’s mind of how best to conceal the Prince’s true identity. He cast a sidelong look at other man, considering the options. There was little chance of any kind of disguise holding up to close inspection – nobility read in everything from the way Christian carried himself to the way he rode and spoke. But if the pair of them could slip through the towns quietly it might be possible to escape detection from most. They could hide in dark tavern corners and in crowded market squares – all the gathering places of the people.

“Of course, Your High-“ he cut himself off abruptly. Christian was right: this would prove just as challenging for Darian as it would for the Prince. He met the Prince’s gaze, a genuine smile tugging at his lips, “You might be right about that. I’ll try my best to treat you as I would any other man.” It was going to be a difficult act to keep up. Already he was trying to sort out what actions would be appropriate in order to keep the guise alive – there were many things he’d do with his fellow military companions that he’d never dare with the Prince.

The sun began to disappear behind the dappled green canopy overhead. The wind rustled gently above them, playing amongst the branches. Already Darian could feel the cramped feeling of the city leaving his bones. The city already looked like no more than a child’s toy set on the hillside behind them. The forest slowly closed in around them, nothing but trunks and foliage as far as the eye could see. Perfect cover for anything that could be lying in wait.

He looked once more at the Prince, carefully considering his attire. It was clear that he was no mere commoner, though perhaps he might be able to pass as a lesser noble. Thankfully it seemed like Christian had at least chosen something modest for the journey. Even so…

“Here,” Darian said as he pulled a worn riding cloak from one of his saddlebags. “You might as well look the part.” The cloak was old, sun bleached, and patched in several places along the hem. Darian had used it on many patrols before – no one could accuse it of being anything grand.

“So what is it you would like to know about most?” he asked, barely fighting back adding ‘sire’ at the end. “And where would you like to start your survey?” Darian quietly prayed the answer was anything other than ‘the north.’

---

Christian Byzantir

This man would be the death of him. Surely. From one danger to the next, Christian seemed to have the most perilous interests.

“The Gypsies?” the man asked quizzically, “I know of them.” There had been a few run-ins with the nomadic people back in the days when he had been charged with patrolling the cities. A few small scuffles with the army, some complaints of treasures going missing, and young men and women running off never to be seen again. The word ‘kidnapped’ had been thrown around a few times. Of course nothing had ever been proven. It could simply have been thieves taking advantage of the presence of a mysterious group of travellers.

“If you want to meet the low born and most misunderstood people of this country you’ve picked an excellent place to start,” he admitted. “Terrible rumours follow the Gypsy people from town to town. Accusations of theft and debauchery. But of course, those are only rumours.” Darian thought hard for a moment, conjuring up his mental map of the country. “I think I know of a small clearing they used to favour…” A voice in the back of his mind protested loudly – taking the Prince into the den of suspected thieves? How could that possibly end well? But Darian was quickly learning there was no argument he could win against the Prince. It was best to go in wary and get it over with as soon as possible. “In fact, I don’t think it’s that far from here. We might be able to make it before nightfall if we keep a steady pace.” He turned to face the Prince more directly so the younger man couldn’t miss the serious glint in his eye. “They might not even be there, it’s been a while since I’ve heard tales of them. But if we do find them and if I suspect any sort of trickery going on, I’ll ask you’ll heed my advice without contestation. Even if that means leaving quickly. Your safety the only thing that really matters."

His eyes slipped down to Christian’s belt, noting again the absence of a blade. Grudgingly the guard pulled a small, yet lethal, dagger from his belt and quickly turned it over so the hilt faced the prince. “Keep this with you as well. If we’re going to visit the Gypsies, I’d feel better if you were armed just in case.” He’d be by the Prince’s side in a moment if a skirmish broke out, but knowing that the Prince had at least some kind of deterrent, however small, would save some of Darian’s sanity.

“Volunteered?” he thought for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Perhaps not the word I would have chosen…expressed interested, more like.” He had suggested to the Captain of the Guard that he’d like to take a mission that led him outside of the castle walls soon, but he hadn’t known that this would be the task set before him. “There’s nothing I’d like to see that I haven’t already come across in my travels. Though I am looking forward to being back in Itaia…” There had once been a time many years ago when that had been the only place he’d wanted to be…but his reason for such feelings was long since gone. "Though when we arrive in Mercarias I would like to pay my respects at the memorial…if you’d allow me the indulgence.” He knew it was a selfish thing to ask, but it was an old soldier’s habit.

“But what I want doesn’t matter,” he gave a small, dutiful smile, “I am only here to act as your protector, and help you to see as much of your kingdom as you care to.” He turned his horse onto a path leading into a denser, darker part of the forest. “We’ll find the Gypsy encampment down here,” he said, looking up through the branches to see the sun already arcing toward the west. Night would soon be falling, and he’d rather reach the clearing before they lost the light. “Keep close. Though chances are we’ll hear them long before we see any sign of them.”

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Christian Byzantir