I've been betrayed thought Pyp. He watched the fire spread across the bandit's tents, shouts and screams echoed through the night.
Pyp had been suspicious when he ordered his tent to go up when it got dark, but his tent never did go up. Later on, when he was asleep in the back of the cart, he was shaken awake by the gruff quartermaster. "Sire, you must awake," she said.
"What is it," Pyp snapped.
"The lady Weimaer and Arthur have gone," said Grace.
"What, gone where," said Pyp sitting up quickly.
"To the enemy camp sire, they've gone to draw them off so we can get through," said Grace.
Pyp was pulling his boot on when he processed what she said. Those two have conspired against me thought Pyp.
He pulled on his breastplate and helmet. "The lady Els told me to inform you that this is the moment to strike and break through the barricade," said Grace, "My soldiers are ready to move at your order."
"Move us forward, I want to see what they've done to that camp," said Pyp.
"At once sire," said Grace before she scuttled off toward the waiting women. They were all prepared for battle, dressed in their odd assortment of armour, Grace formed them into a battle line ahead of the cart and slapped the horse into motion as the pushed forward. Pyp stood up on the cart to get a better view and that's when he saw the flames.
"Sire we should press forward," said Grace.
"Not yet," said Pyp.
"But sir-"
"I said not yet!" Pyp cut her off.
She said they were drawing them away but they haven't left the camp thought Pyp.
He watched as two mounted figures burst out of the side of the forest, a number of unsaddled horses raced past them. Behind them were a score of armed bandits chasing after them and the horses.
"There they are sire and the bandits along with them now is our time to strike," said Grace.
"Hold your tongue woman. I am the Prince. And I will decide when we strike," spat Pyp. Watching Arthur and Els charge across the open field infuriated Pyp. His jaw ached from clenching. After another tense minute of waiting Pyp shouted at the assembled women, "Forward!"
Joth snapped the reins and the cart rolled forward following the line of armed women. Pyp pulled the flintlock pistol out of his belt and began to load it. He rammed the shot home and fully cocked the hammer. He placed it on the seat beside him and gripped the hilt of the sabre. His knuckles went white as they inched closer to the bandit camp. He resisted the urge to draw his sword early, it wouldn't do to seem nervous thought Pyp.
He couldn't see that any bandits standing on the road in front of them. The fire had spread across to the tents blocking their path.
"Clear the road," shouted Pyp.
The women edged forward polearms held out in front of them, they approached slowly and cut through the ropes holding the tents up. As they started to collapse Pyp heard a shout from further in the camp. A small number of bandits had spotted them and began to advanced toward them. Grace spotted them as well and shouted at the woman to turn and brace.
Pyp saw the bandits smiling, they're fools if they think we are easy prey thought Pyp as his hand wrapped around his pistol.
Graces soldiers struck first rushing forward and skewering a lightly armoured bandit and pushing him to the ground. Another fell when he tried to pull his friend up from the ground and took a halberd to the skull. The other bandits pulled back and Pyp saw a crossbow change hands, there was no time to call a warning before a bolt struck home into a woman's neck. The skirmish seemed to stop then, all eyes turned to the dying woman as she hit the ground writhing in pain. Pyp was the first to react by raising his pistol and blowing a hole through the bandit that ended her life. Grace ordered her line to pull back as the cart pulled forward onto the clear road. Hands reached down to drag their dead comrade along but a sharp bark from Grace had them snap back. Pyp ears were ringing from the pistol discharge.
That was a fine shot thought Pyp replaying it in his mind, trying not to picture the dying women who it avenged.
He reloaded his firearm and sat alert for any bandits who might follow.
When the rising smoke of the bandit camp was on the horizon, Pyp called them to a stop. They were all exhausted, Arthur's paranoia had denied them sleep the night before and battling the bandits had stopped them from getting any that night. Pyp noticed the marching column was becoming more and more disordered before he order them to make camp. There was not much night-time left and Pyp was dammed sure he would get some sleep that night. Grace had come to him and asked about Els and Arthur, and how they might find their way to the camp.
"That is their problem, I didn't order them leave us and I will not stay and wait for their return," said Pyp.
He could see that she wanted to argue but one glare from Pyp cowed her to silence.
They can both stay lost thought Pyp, he wouldn't want two traitors in his midst. Heartford is only a days march away, I'll have words with my brother about Lady Weimaer and Arthur, harsh words he managed a slight smile at the thought of his retribution falling on their heads. Sleep came quickly for Pyp that night.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The morning was bright and crisp, Pyp noticed as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The rest of the camp was waking up along with him, small parcels of food were handed out and people slinked into the bushes to make water. Pyp noticed the Finepoint surgeon Joth giving him a strange look.
"What is it Joth," asked Pyp.
"Nothing important my lord, I'm just worried about Lady Weimaer and Arthur," said Joth.
Pyp frowned at the man, is everyone in this camp obsessed with that pair thought Pyp. "Cast them from your mind Joth, they made their choice to disobey me, what happens to them should be no concern of yours".
"My lord it's because of them we managed to come so far, we at least owe them our thoughts," said Joth.
"We owe them nothing but disdain" spat Pyp, "I made it clear what my command was, and they wilfully ignored their rightful lord and for that, they will face punishment. Focus on healing surgeon, not on the affairs of your betters."
Pyp turned his back to the wizened man strode to the head of the camp and gazed off into the distance. So close to home thought Pyp with a slight smile, his good mood darkened when he thought of the bandit camp. Bandits allowed to move freely so close to our capital, more to discuss with my brother. It was still hard to picture his brother as High Prince, Godwyn had ruled for over 20 years and steered the Southlands through the spymasters war unscathed. He was well loved by the commoners, or so I've been told thought Pyp. When he was young he hadn't been given the chance to meet any of his subjects, he only ever left Heartford for festivals and tourneys.
The outside is much more exciting thought Pyp, with false enthusiasm. Garth's dead body, the horrors of Finepoint's central bank, Erit's face as Pyp's dagger sunk into his chest. The woman gurgling as a crossbow bolt ended her life. Pyp pushed the images from his mind.
Merely the price of life thought Pyp. They died so that he would live and take his rightful place in the world.
Pyp was elated when he saw the high walls of Heartford. The gates slowly swung open and a number of horsemen gallop out. Pyp called his company to a halt.
"Weapons down," shouted Pyp.
The horseman were welled armed in a modern fashion. Lengthy cavalry sabres sat alongside flintlock pistols, thick chest plates and tailed pot helmets were worn by the majority of the cavalry. A man with a goose feather adorning his helmet and a red velvet sash across his waist approached the cart.
"Declare yourself," said the Captain.
"Pyppin Mawson, son of Godwyn and brother of the High Prince Baldwyn," said Pyp.
He had expected a more surprised reaction from the officer as he claimed to be one of the most important men in the land. The Captain merely nodded and whispered into one of his soldier's ears, who then turned and galloped back to the gate.
"What are you doing Captain," said Pyp.
"If you are who you say you are then the High Prince's steward will recognise you," said the Captain.
Pyp nodded and leaned back into his seat. It took nearly a half hour before the steward showed his face, Ralf Vode was his name and he had begun his tenure as steward with Pyp's grandfather. Serving the Mawson's for nearly 40 years Vode was an old man with a long white beard and bald head. His eyesight was fair and Pyp saw him nodding as soon as he stepped foot outside of Heartford. The city guards dismounted their horses and kneeled before Pyp.
"Rise men," said Pyp.
The captain stood up, "We shall escort you to the High Prince," the cavalry remounted their horses and surrounded Pyp and his party. Vode had managed to make his way to Pyp side.
"Pyp, I'm happy to see you alive," he said in his usual ponderous manner of speech. "I assume you have heard about your father."
"I have Ralf, how did he die," said Pyp.
"It's not my place to say, your brother will tell you I'm sure," said Vode.
A trumpet sounded as they walked toward Heartford's keep. People came out and lined the main roads, the masses stared in confusion at the haggard-looking column of women led by a young man on a battered cart. The confused look continued until the captain leading them announced.
"This is Pyppin Mawson, Brother of High Prince Baldwyn, returned from Finepoint," shouted the captain. The crowds politely applauded as Pyp waved to them.
This doesn't feel like much of a heroes welcome thought Pyp as he heard the quiet clapping. After stopping a few times due to trade carts and other obstructions they arrived at the central keep of Heartford. The high walls were lined with musketeers holding matchlocks, a line of pikeman stood in front of the keeps gate their short pikes pointing upward. Vode approached the gate presented himself to the pike officer. After a short exchange the gate began to open and the pikeman broke into two columns stood either side Pyp. The keep was busy with activity, soldiers rushed around busy with tasks Pyp couldn't figure out. Barrels of gunpowder were rolled out of storage and soldiers were polishing armour and sharpening weapons.
"It looks like my brother is preparing for war," said Pyp.
Vide said nothing as they pushed their way through the massed soldiers. They had started to take note of the new arrivals
"Who's the pistoleer," Pyp overheard a soldier ask the mounted captain.
"That's the High Princes brother," said the captain.
Pyp was still sat in full armour on the cart, he stood to get a better view past the thick press of armoured men.
"Is that my youngest brother," came a familiar voice from above.
Pyp looked up to see his brother stood at the top of a stone staircase. He was dressed in a yellow and black short coat with the family crest adorning his chest. He was leaning heavily on his hardwood cane.
"It is Baldwyn and I bring grave news," said Pyp.
Despite his serious tone, the wide grin remained on Baldwyn's face. "Come we have much to discuss," he said motioning for Pyp to join him.
"What of my people," said Pyp.
"They will be looked after, come," said Baldwyn.
Pyp nodded to Joth and marched up the stairs after his brother.
They didn't speak right away, Baldwyn insisted Pyp bathe and change clothes. Pyp found it hard to disagree, he hadn't washed in months. He was whisked off by a troop of maids and quickly stripped of his armour and weapons. Suddenly he found himself in a scolding bath with coarse brushes scrubbing every inch of his body.
"Oww, not so hard," said Pyp.
The maids ignored him as they scrubbed him red. Coming out of the bath he was pushed into a room with polished mirrors and wardrobes full of lavish clothing. A thin man came in behind him and began to wrap Pyp in different coloured fabrics. He was pushed around to different mirrors and thrust into different positions. Eventually, he was dressed in a thin linen shirt and a pair of gold-threaded breeches. Knee-high boots were pulled over his feet. His torso was wrapped in a tight-fitting doublet with a lace collar. His hands were adorned with golden rings.
I've never looked so regal thought Pyp looking at himself in the mirror. Another man entered the room and walked Pyp through to a small table covered in a number of plates and cutlery.
"The High Prince has instructed me to give you a refresher in dining manners," said the man.
"I remember all my dining manner," said Pyp.
"Never the less I must instruct you so sit down and listen," said the man as he began to drone on about proper use of eating utensils.
Pyp payed no attention as he thought about his triumphant return home.
Baldwyn treats me like a child he thought, having me bathed and dressed, as if I cannot do it alone. He comforted himself with the thought that all of this preparation must mean that Baldwyn was preparing to have a banquet in his honour.