It was only days before Pyp saw action again. Edwyn had assigned him to an infantry regiment as an aide to Lieutenant Colonel Sir Bernard Messer. The Colonel had him shadow Ransley and his company. Which led to his current circumstances lying face down in the dirt when pikemen screamed above him.

"Get up lad they're coming back" shouted Sergeant Millst.

Pyp scrambled to his feet, his bulky plate armour chafing his sides.

I need to get the armourer to adjust this when I get back.

A pikeman dragged him back into the centre of the square. Pyp watched as fifty pistol-wielding bandits charged on horseback toward their small formation. Raising his own flintlock Pyp ignored the cries around him. As the cavalry charged forward hoping to break the square with intimidation alone. They had tried three times already and their commander still hadn't seen the folly of testing barbaric raiders against hardened Principality troops. The horsemen split into two columns and smoke obscured as the muskets fired. A soldier lanced a man off his horse, his pike snapping under the strain. Pyp fired but in the haze of battle didn't see if he hit his mark. Four pikemen crashed to the ground their breastplates smoking with bullet holes. Three horsemen burst through the fresh gap and started to cause chaos in the ranks. Pyp raced forward sabre in hand.

"Once the line is broken and the cavalry is behind the pikes, that's when the men run," he remembered Ransly lecturing him as they observed the troop drills.

One of the horses went down hard when a musket ball destroyed its brain. Pyp slid his sword across the inside thigh of the closet puffy-faced raider. Bright red blood gushed out of when he severed a large artery in his leg. Panic flashed across his face before a pike slammed into his side. The smoke started to clear and Pyp saw that they had stood firm and the mounted bandits were in fast retreat.

"Sire are you unhurt," asked Millst.

"I'm fine Sergeant attend to your men," replied Pyp.

He picked his way out of the corpse-strewn square and stretched his legs on the green grass. The clopping of hooves distracted him from his exercise.

"Sire, how was your first taste of the infantry square," asked Sir Messer.

"It was a bit saucier than I would have liked," said Pyp with a grimace as he wiped a spot of blood of his breastplate.

Messer laughed. "It always is Sire but most of the fighting is done by the infantry."

"And all of the glory is hogged by the cavalry."

The bearded man looked down from his stallion. "Seems the men are rubbing off on you," said Messer as he trotted away.

Pyp spat on the ground and turned back to his men.

Are they my men already he thought watching the square of pikemen devolve into a mob of screaming wounded and looters.

He sat on the edge of his cot and sharpened his sword, he started out of boredom but he got favourable comments from the men and it soon became a habit. Pyp found it good to have something to do with his hands, otherwise they would shake. He pushed the memories of battle to the back of his mind, he found the shaking got worse when he thought of the men who died. And the men he killed. Tonight he would sup with his brother and there was a rumour going around camp that Edwyn would finally move the camp. The main tent was small and lushly decorated, padded seats and thick candles lit the small space. Pyp was the last to arrive and supper was already out when he took his seat.

"Brother, I heard from Messer that you gave a good account of yourself today."

"A raiding party tried to ambush our patrol, a pike square threw them back into the woods."

"A pike square that my brother commanded," proclaimed Edwyn, he was deep in his cups. Pyp counted two empty jugs by his side. Pyp sipped his watered wine and tucked into the rich food with gusto. He had continued eating with the men not wanting to lose his newfound popularity, but the food they ate was barely digestible.

"Looks like you haven't eaten for days Pyp," said Edwyn his cheeks ruddy.

Pyp nodded unable to speak through his full mouth.

"Well then if everyone has had their fill lets get down to business. We've been sat here for too long, more and more reports of raiding come from the south, they are slipping through our fingers and I won't stand for it any longer. Our High Prince has complained about our performance and I wouldn't want to disappoint my brother so tomorrow morning we march! We will hunt down these bandits, burn them out of their holes and cleanse the Southlands."

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Edwyn jumped to his feet and raised his cup. The other lords in the room cheered at his short speech and swigged back their wine. Pyp half-heartedly raised his glass and smiled.

Pyp left his brother and lords to their wine and found Isil sat with Captain Ransley and his partner Gregory.

"Ah Highness, what news from the Lord General," asked Isil.

"Does he have our money yet," grumbled Gregory.

"You'll get your pay soon enough, my brother intends to move camp, we are to hunt down the raiders instead of letting them come to us," said Pyp.

"Bloody right, the men are tired of patrols and camp raids. Burning out a few scum nests will be good for morale," said Ransley.

"It'll be harder than that to dig them out Captain, raiders are good hiders," said Gregory.

"On the contrary Gregory, I don't think these are the usual raiders at all. No good bandits would attack Pike Square with horse and pistol, even in an ambush. They wouldn't be so bold to attack a heavily defended camp," said Isil. "I expect that they will be easy to find indeed."

Pyp requested Messer move him to a different company for the march. He was loathe to walk the miles and miles Edwyn had in mind.

"A transfer Sire, where to," asked Messer as he scraped a razor across his chin.

"Yes to a mounted troop," said Pyp.

Messer laughed. "Don't want to hoof it with the rest of the grunts, not that I can blame you. Alright Sire I know the Dragoons are always looking for riders you'll go there."

"Thank you Colonel."

He presented himself to the specified Dragoon company and was met with scepticism.

"Sire the Dragoons are no safe place for a Prince," said Captain Ransley who had been ordered to accompany him.

"I've fought with Dragoons before Ransley I'll survive," said Pyp.

Isil and Gregory pulled up alongside them with Pyp's horse in tow.

"Will you be joining us Isil," said Pyp ignoring Gregory's' scowl.

"Yes, ranging with the Dragoons seems more exciting than trotting in silence beside the toffs of the cavalry," said Isil.

Pyp nodded searched through the gathered men and horses looking for Brigadier Sir Mannfred Crozer. The wiry man was slotting on his half plate when Pyp found him.

"Prince Pyppin, Messer told me you'd end up in my lap. I've got a lovely space for you in the rear guard," said Crozer, his curt manner grated Pyp.

"The rear is no place for a Prince," he said.

"It's the best place for you to be, close to the rest of the army and far from any danger," said Crozer. He looked down at Pyp and his lips curled in a slight smile.

"I wouldn't be here if I wanted to avoid danger Crozer, I'll be a part of the vanguard and that will be the end of it," said Pyp.

"So be it Sire, I'm sure they will be delighted to have you," said Sir Crozer waving him away.

The matchlock was heavy in Pyp arms as he swung himself from his horse for the fifth time that day.

"What is it now," he spat landing on his feet.

"Raiders spotted at the bridge up ahead, we need to drive them off" said Isil reporting back from the advanced scouting.

Pyp had stripped of most of his armour leaving only his breastplate and helmet to protect him. The other dragoons were even less armoured than he was. Most only had a helmet, their chests were covered in leather powder charges. The fifth man from his troop came along and took the reins from Pyp's hand and led his horse away from the fighting. Pyp heart hammered in his chest as he charged with his linemen toward the bridge. He forced himself to breathe and he joined the rest of the dragoons crouched behind a stone wall.

"Prepare," screamed a Sergeant.

Pyp barely heard him through the constant barrage of musket fire. He struggled to slot his matchcord into the snaplock and half-cock his weapon.

"Aim," screamed the Sergeant.

Pyp breathed deeply and pushed himself to his feet. As soon as they stood above their cover two men died with holes in their chest. Thick white smoke filled Pyp's nostrils and he raised his matchlock into the foggy gloom.

"Fire," screamed the Sergeant.

Pyp's went deaf for a moment when his line exploded into fire. The butt of his musket rammed into his shoulder and he groped at his chest for a fresh powder charge. He frantically rammed patch and ball down the barrel and slumped down, resting his back on the wall. There was sudden silence of the battlefield and quickly to fill it Pyp heard drums. All head snapped to attention when they heard the drums, the patterns of sound instructed them to form up and move right. Which led them to the mouth of the bridge.

"CHARGE" screamed their Sergeant as their side exploded with another volley. Pyp lowered his head and ran with the other across the bridge. They broke before the Dragoons got halfway across. Horses charged past Pyp and cut down the fleeing bandits. He slumped onto the wall of the bridge using his matchlock to prop him up. His heavy helmet crashed to the ground when he loosened the chinstrap.

"Is the Van not agreeing with you Highness," asked Isil, he had jumped down from his horse and stood in front of the young prince.

"All the running disagrees with me Isil, I nearly got run down by one of our own horses," spat Pyp.

"Well you've been a part of another victory, most of the army will be crossing this bridge," said Isil.

"And how is it you know so much about the goings on of my brothers army," said Pyp.

Isil laughed at Pyp's tone. "I get close to the Lords in charge, I ingratiate myself to them and they discuss matters of strategy with me. If you were less inclined to try and prove yourself at every opportunity and tried to gain favour you would know more too."

"Gain favour. I am a Prince they should gain my favour," Pyp pulled himself to his feet and struck his chest out.

"Highness, only men with something to gain from it curry favour, the Lords out here answer to your brother only. If you want the authority of a Lord you need to work for it."

Pyp looked up at the dark-skinned man. Not for the first time he wondered why this man was still here, his brother had arranged payment for both him and his diminutive colleague.

"Why are you trying to help me Isil Al Duba," said Pyp taking a tentative step forward.

"When I first met you Highness Pyp, there was a strange way about you."

"I recall you mentioned my aura," Pyp remembered their first encounter.

"Indeed, it is that which keeps me around. Never have I heard of one so strong since the days of Al Izima."

"Well perhaps I don't believe your fantastical ideas about auras," Pyp shook his head while bending to pick his helmet of the dusty bridge.

"Considering what I've heard about The city of Finepoint and your troubles there Highness I didn't think you would have any trouble believing."

Pyp turned to glare at the strange foreigner but he had leapt back onto his horse. "We will speak again Highness Pyp, very soon."

He trotted off back across the bridge and waved to Brigadier Crozer.