Seeing the knights in their shining plate armor was still a remarkable sight. Even if he was their general, he still gawked at the spectacle. They sat upon their massive destriers like the heroes written in stories.

  His brother had sent them ostensibly to reinforce the fort, but Aeolwyn knew better. They had been sent to keep an eye on him and the soldiers of Fort Camulan. They were all handpicked by Alfyn and were all his most loyal friends.

  He was torn about what to do with them. Though they were only a dozen, and so far, had proven to be reliable—even likable at times, he couldn’t trust them. He didn’t want them in the fort without the large force he was taking with him to Teorton, but neither could he afford to leave the fort so undefended.

  He made what he hoped was a compromise. Their leader, Knight-Count Wollams was a more senior nobility and had the right to attend the king’s funeral. By framing it in those terms, Aeolwyn was able to keep their commander out of the Fort while leaving it comfortably protected.

  “My condolences, Your Highness,” Count Wollams said as they were riding out of the main gate. “I knew your father well. He was a good man.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Up until the illness.”

  “Thank you, Lord Wollams.” He knew Wollams didn’t particularly like Aeolwyn, though he gave him all the respect due his station. He obeyed his orders, only offering suggestions when he thought it appropriate. And when the prince thought they were sound, he took them.

  “I appreciate you allowing me to come,” the count continued. “It is important to me and my family to be able to pay my respects.”

  “I wouldn’t think of denying you that. The fort will be in safe hands until we return.” Aeolwyn had faith in Brakus’ leadership.

  He’d placed the whole fort under the command of Brakus in his absence. The knights bristled at having to take orders from a commoner, so Aeolwyn did what he thought was the most practical. He knighted Brakus into the Royal Order of Dragonfire, the highest order of knighthood in Camulan. Only members of the royal family could dub knights into this order and, according to the Laws of Peerage, knights of this order stood higher than knights of any of the other orders.

  Certainly, if any of the knights Alfyn had sent any Dragonfire Knights, they would outrank Brakus, but none were. Most were of the lower Order of the Claws or the Order of the Lance. Only Count Wollams was in the Order of the Fish and Bear, the second highest order of knights.

  There was one more knightly order, the Order of the Tapestry, which was third in superiority, above both the Order of the Claws and Order of the Lance. Any knight could make a Lance Knight, but someone had to be in the nobility to make a Claw Knight. Only the upper nobility and royalty could dub someone into the other orders.

  While the knights didn’t particularly like having to take orders from Knight-Captain Brakus, they stopped grumbling once he was made a knight, and even made a small show of welcoming him into the knighthood. Aeolwyn knew better though. He was commoner, so they all looked at him as an upjumped street urchin.

  As they rode, the streets filled with the residents of both Westgate and Foregate. They cheered as the column rode past or waved handkerchiefs.

  “Long live the king!” many shouted.

  “We love you, Prince Aeolwyn!” Others shouted, while still others offered their condolences. Many reached out to touch Aeolwyn’s leg or Sefalus’ flank, until they were beaten back by Reiva of Galafar.

  Others threw flowers at their feet or dropped to their knees and cried. Aeolwyn waived his hands as he passed. He was very touched by the display of love and kindness by those who didn’t even know him.

  “I am impressed by your popularity here, Your Highness,” the count said. “They truly love you here.”

  Count Wollams had insisted on his right as a count and knight to travel alongside Aeolwyn during this journey. It made his friends nervous, knowing that the man was loyal to his brother and could try to put a knife in his throat at any time.

  The count wasn’t an assassin. He was a knight, and allegiance or not, he had honor. And without honor, what was a knight but a cutthroat in fancy armor?

  Aeolwyn still wasn’t a knight. As a member of the royal family, he could make knights in any of the orders, but he couldn’t knight himself. He supposed that Brakus could knight him into the Order of the Lance, but it would be weird and unusual to have a prince have to show knightly deference to a commoner.

  His father had been the only Royal Dragonfire Knight. Aeolwyn’s grandfather had made him one when he came of age. Unless something had happened while Aeolwyn was gone, he didn’t think that the king had given Alfyn the same honor.

  Though, if he wanted to be one, it was a simple task for the king to order a member of his family to knight him. Aeolwyn toyed with the idea of what he would do if Alfyn ordered him to do it. Considering their strained relationship, it seemed likely that he might, just to disrespect Aeolwyn.

  Since part of the ceremony was to tap the unarmed knight-to-be on the shoulders with a sword, Aeolwyn could simple run Alfyn through. That would send the whole nation into disarray and would end with Aeolwyn’s death. Regicide was the most serious crime in the kingdom.

  Aeolwyn wondered who he could ask to make him a Dragonfire Knight? Certainly not Alfyn. Wolfryn and Ulfnar then, most likely. One of his sisters could do it as well, though it would be unusual for a woman to make a knight. It wasn’t unheard of, but was extremely uncommon, and considered impolite in all but the direst of circumstances.

  “Did we have to bring so many men, Your Highness?” the count asked as they left Foregate behind and started on the open road to Teorton.

  Out of the 6 companies that were stationed at Fort Camulan, Aeolwyn brought 3 of them, leaving Brakus’ company, two others, and the remainder of the knights. Count Wollams chose to bring three of his closest knights with him, along with their pages and squires. Aeolwyn didn’t countermand his request.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “It is important to honor my father’s memory, count,” Aeolwyn said. He didn’t dare tell the count the truth. He didn’t trust his brother, and needed the army as insurance against any scheming Alfyn might be planning. It was as much a show of strength and threat to his brother as it was an honor to his father’s legacy. Even the knights Count Wollams brought with him.

  Knights brought a large retinue with them. Each one had a squire or two, and then at least two or more pages. They were men in training to become knights, but as far as Aeolwyn could tell, the knights treated them as servants more often than they mentored them. It was more common to see them training in the yard with Aeolwyn’s soldiers rather than training with their knight. Aeolwyn himself spent some time teaching the young squires and even younger pages the sword forms.

  Aeolwyn thought it was important to take the time to instruct them for two important reasons. The first being that Fort Camulan was a defensive structure, and he depended on everyone inside of it knowing how to fight—no one could be a burden. The second was that these knights all owed allegiance to his brother. By helping train them, he might be able to shift that allegiance one squire at a time.

  Whatever plan Alfyn had for him, Aeolwyn intended to ruin it.

  The army of soldiers left the fort without fanfare. Aeolwyn kept it as low-profile as he could. He decided to bring nearly all the mages with him but left most of the archers behind. Of those mages he brought, he gave them swords and dressed them as soldiers. The story of how he won the battle of Lannic Outpost had already been spreading and he didn’t want anyone to know he was bringing their power with him.

  He, Brakus, and Egne had been hard at work planning strategies for the new mage corps. He’d had special horse-drawn battle wagons constructed that were crewed by a carriage driver and 2 mages. They were small and quick, akin to chariots. One of the mages was the Battle Mage—the weapon. He would choose targets and attack them. The other was the Shield Mage. His role was to defend the chariot and its crew. The strategy had worked well in training, but hadn’t been tested in battle yet, and that made Aeolwyn nervous.

  For the trip, the chariots had been disguised as simple carriages. They’d added a second set of wheels and loaded them up with cargo. The cargo and extra wheels could be easily detached if they needed to deploy the mages in combat. Aeolwyn hoped it wouldn’t come to that—at least not yet.

  For now, He hid the chariots among the group of messengers that had brought the news to Aeolwyn. They were in the back of the column, still singing their mournful dirges and ringing the sorrowful bell. Aeolwyn was glad they were so far behind him. He didn’t think he could bear to hear them the whole trip. He was barely hanging on to his emotions as it was.

  Reiva had picked up one of the bouquets of flowers and had strung them through her hair. She’d also fashioned two more circlets and placed them on Galafar and Egne’s heads. They wore them without protest. He knew they were doing it for his benefit, and it again warmed his heart to see the display—not just the ones from his friends, but from the people of Fort Camulan as well. It had been a long time since he’d felt this loved.

  All the soldiers had fashioned black bands that they strapped to their arms. Count Wollams and his other knights wore black sashes across the armor on their chests. None of them had been ordered to, they had done it of their own volition.

  He and his mother were dressed in black. He wore a black tabard over his chainmail. It had his family’s sigil of the dragon sheltering the fish and bear embroidered on it. He didn’t know where Reiva had found it. She just showed up and put it over his head as soon as he had gotten his chainmail on.

  “It’s going to be a long ride,” Galafar said as he rode up beside him. He looked ridiculous with the flowers in his hair. “Are you sure you don’t want to ride in the carriage for a while? No one would deny that it’s your right.”

  “I’m a soldier, Galafar. My place is here.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Aeolwyn saw Count Wollams nod his approval. He didn’t need the count’s approval, but it still felt good that the grizzled old knight agreed with his choice. Besides, his sore backside would take his mind off the grief he was feeling.

  “I understand, general. Just take some time to visit. Your mother misses you—you’re not the only one grieving.”

  His friend was right. He did need to visit his mother. She needed as much consoling as he did. More, probably. He had been avoiding it, though. He needed to keep a tight rein on his emotions, and seeing his mother in tears would make him lose any control he had over them.

  “Do you always let your subordinates question your decisions, general?” Wollams asked.

  Aeolwyn knew Wollams didn’t like how Aeolwyn treated his friends. He thought it was inappropriate for him to be so close to those under his command. General Alaric would have agreed with the count. But Aeolwyn couldn’t afford to be impersonal with them. He needed them.

  “Galafar is a trusted advisor, count.”

  “Hrmph,” the count said. “It’s not proper, Your Highness. He’s not just a lower station than you, he has no station. He’s not even an upjump.”

  Galafar frowned at the count’s comment. While it was true that he was a commoner, being a Shielder gave him much more respect and status than a common blacksmith. But the count didn’t understand. Despite being a grizzled knight, Wollams rarely spent time among the common folk. Knights almost never did unless it was to order them to do something.

  “It’s not like he’s a muckraker, count. Galafar is a Shielder and a soldier in my company.”

  “Even more reason not to trust him, lord prince.”

  Galafar was bristling now. Aeolwyn saw his hand reaching towards his sword. The last thing he needed right now was a fight between his friend and the count. No matter who won that battle, the count would demand Galafar’s head, and by the law and custom, he’d be within his rights to do so.

  Aeolwyn motioned to Galafar to stay his hand. Maybe the count recognized what would happen if his friend drew his weapon and was goading him into acting. Aeolwyn needed to defuse this situation.

  “I can make him a Dragonfire Knight,” Aeolwyn asked. “Would that ease your mind?”

  That wasn’t the right way to lower the tension between the two men, but Aeolwyn couldn’t resist the quick jab. He saw Galafar smile at the comment though. As a Dragonfire Knight, Galafar would outrank the count on the battlefield. Not at court, his friend would need lands and a title for that—something only the king could grant. But Aeolwyn didn’t see them spending time at court. He doubted courtly life would agree with either of them.

  “That won’t be necessary, highness,” Wollams conceded. “It’s just improper.”

  Aeolwyn shrugged, then turned to Galafar. “Would you mind riding to the carriage and seeing how my mother is doing?”

  “Yes, general,” Galafar answered, slowing his horse down.

  “Send her my love!” He called as his friend vanished into the sea of soldiers.

  That would settle them for now. But Wollams wasn’t done.

  “I don’t understand why you’re so friendly with them, highness. As their prince, and their general. They owe their allegiance to you, yet you treat them as pillow-mates.”

  Pillow-mates? That was an implication too far. Even if Aeolwyn had chosen to share a bed with any of them—which he had not, that was none of the count’s business. He suddenly wanted to put Wollams in his place, but that would only play into the count’s hands. Now that Galafar had left, it was Aeolwyn he was trying to goad into a fight.

  A fight they would both lose. The count could lose his titles, his land, even his life, but Aeolwyn might lose respect and standing among his men—especially the knights if he punished the Wollams too severely.

  “Mind your tone, count,” he said calmly. “I may be young still, but I am your prince and your general. I have allowed you to speak freely as a courtesy I extend all who are under my command, but don’t mistake that for weakness.”

  The count bowed as much as his saddle and armor allowed. “My sincerest apologies if I have offended you, Your Highness.”

  The count stopped talking after that, and Aeolwyn was glad. He’d rather have his friends around him, but after his dressing down of Galafar, the others stayed away. Reiva rode nearby, keeping a careful eye on the two. He knew that the second she saw the count reaching for a weapon, she’d leap into action. Thankfully, it didn’t come to that and they were able to continue to travel in peace.