Wulfram’s group left the city as the sun was rising over the cliffs, spreading it’s warm golden glow over the city. He had traveled with most of them before. Owen, Gryff and Ben had all been part of his squad when he was patrolling the kingdoms outer borders. Verrick had taught him to track, and while he hadn’t traveled with Harvick before he knew he came highly recommended. Balariz had suggested sending him along instead of going himself, and he trusted the Archmages judgement on the matter.

He started questioning that judgement however on the first night. They rode until the sun was beginning to set, and stopped in a small clearing on the side of Trade Road. Verrick dismounted first, scanning the area as the others followed suit. Only Harvick stayed on his horse, staring around the clearing with a puzzled expression. “There’s no inn here.”

“Indeed there is not.” Wulfram said as he dismounted, immediately starting to remove the saddle and packs from his horse. Gryff and Owen were already making sure the ground was clear before they set up their tents and bedrolls. Verrick disappeared into the woods beyond the campsite, his bow at the ready. Wulfram nodded in approval, Verrick was the best choice to handle the hunting, with luck they’d have fresh meat for the fire soon.

“Why are we stopping here then? Shouldn’t we be looking for an inn? It will be dark soon.” Harvick said.

“The next inn is another days ride ahead. Today, we sleep on bedrolls.” Wulfram chuckled and set one of his packs on the ground. “Come on now Haverick, it will be fun. Help gather some branches for the fire.”

“But- but there’s no bed.” Harvick dismounted but clutched his horses reins as he looked around again. “I’ve never slept on a bedroll before.”

“A first time for everything then.” Wulfram smiled at Harvick, and strode over to set a hand on his shoulder. “You’re going to be fine, they aren’t that bad to sleep on. And we have some whiskey to share. Tomorrow we’ll have beds at the inn, and perhaps the night after if we make good enough time.”

Harvick looked at Wulfram and reluctantly nodded. “Yes your Highness.”

“Good man, start gathering whatever branches you can find. I saw a log over by the treeline that I want to chop for wood. Gryff, Owen, can you start setting up the tents?”

“Aye, sure can.” Gryff said with a grin. “Just like old times, eh?”

“Just so. It’s been too long, I think I’ve been getting soft.” Wulfram pulled a short handled axe from his gear, inspecting it before heading over to the log. It would make good firewood tonight, and with luck they’d even have some left to leave for the next people to pass by.

“Wouldn’t doubt it.” Owen chimed in as he pulled the small tents from their gear. There was one for each of them, little more than a strip of ships canvas that would protect them from any rain. “I heard you ran from some skeletons when you got lost in the underground.”

Wulfram grimanced and swung his axe, cutting into the log with a solid thud. “I was already wounded, and had a lady to protect. Besides, swords do little good against skeletons, you really need a priest or a mage.”

“If you smash them into enough pieces they do just fine against skeletons.” Gryff said. “How many were there anyways?”

Wulfram sighed. He hadn’t considered this portion of traveling with old companions, he should have known Gryff and Owen would give him a hard time. “There were three that I noticed before we ran.” Another swing of the axe reminded him that he hadn’t used his muscles in such a way for far too long. He needed to focus more on his physical training, he really was going soft.

“Only three?” Owen let out a snort. “You really are going soft!”

Harvick looked at the two men as if they had lost their minds. “Are you honestly calling our prince soft?”

“Like a woman.” Owen grinned, his eyes not leaving Wulfram. “Come now, prove me wrong!”

“Owen you haven’t even started drinking yet, and you’re already looking for a fight?” Wulfram laughed off the challenge, the log splitting in two with his last swing. He reached out to adjust it so that he could split the wood into smaller pieces.

“We’ve barely seen you since our last patrol together, I want to see if you’ll still beat me or if we need to whip you into shape on this trip.” Owen said.

“The last patrol wasn’t that long ago. But we can spar if you want, after the camp is set up. It’s been too long since I’ve whooped your ass.” Wulfram swung his axe again, the wood splitting with the first hit. There it was, there was the rhythm he had been missing. He grinned and kicked aside one of the smaller pieces of wood.

“Your Highness? Are you serious?” Harvick squeaked, eyes wide with shock.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“I am. And while we’re on the road, you can call me Wulfram, it’s better if we don’t advertise that I’m the prince. I’ve no desire to paint a target on my back.”

“A target? You don’t mean to say people would attack you!” Harvick’s eyes grew wider still. Wulfram glanced over at Owen and Gryff, then back to the mage.

“I am saying exactly that. Bandits would jump at the chance to capture a noble of any sort to ransom, and while I’m confident in my abilities, as well as those of the rest of our party, we could still be overwhelmed or ambushed.” Wulfram knew he wasn’t making the mage feel any better about their situation, but it was the unfortunate truth.

“Don’t worry Harvick,” Ben chimed in from his spot loosely tying the horses to a short wooden fence built specifically for that purpose by some industrious traveler in times past. “We have an excellent group here. Wulfram, Owen, Gryff and I all served together on patrols. Verrick is unflinchingly loyal to the royal family, and you were recommended by the Archmage himself. It would take quite the force to take us.”

Harvick clutched at the branches he had picked up, but nodded. He glanced at the shadows though, eyes lingering on the darker shadows of the forest, the lengthening shadows near the road, and the bushes that could conceal the approach of a bold rabbit. “Of course. Yes.”

“Wulfram, after you’re done sparring Owen I want a go, assuming you win that is.” Ben flashed Wulfram a grin.

“I’ll win, I’m not that soft.” At least not yet. He tossed Ben the wood he had already cut. “Get started on the fire.”

“Yes sir.” Ben laughed as he caught the wood and started to pile it in a loose pyramid. “Bring some of those branches over here Harvick, the smaller ones will make excellent kindling.”

The banter continued as they set up the camp, and while Harvick still looked shocked and more than a little lost sometimes, he did help. The fire was lit with a small burst of fire from his fingers, and he did gather quite a few branches for the fire. But he was utterly hopeless when it came to setting up the tents, and when Verrick returned and started to skin the rabbits he had caught the poor mage ran to a bush, relieving himself of his last meal with an awful retching sound.

“City boy.” Owen said calmly, taking the furs from Verrick to start cleaning them. As a general rule, they didn’t waste things from what they hunted.

“You’re a city boy Owen.” Ben said, earning a laugh from the others. “The only one of us not a city boy would be Verrick.”

Verrick grunted in agreement and shoved a sharpened stick through one of the rabbits so they could suspend it over the fire.

“I’ve spent enough time on the road to be an honorary country boy by now.” Owen said.

“No ye ‘aven’t.” Verrick said.

Owen scowled and passed the skins off to Gryff. “Wulfram, are you ready for that spar?”

Wulfram took a moment to inspect the camp. The tents were set up, the meat would take some time to cook, the horses were fed and watered, and Harvick was stumbling back to the campfire with a pale face. He nodded, rising to his feet. “Alright, by the road though, I don’t want to have to worry about throwing you into the fire.”

Owen laughed and stood. “Sword or fists? I’ll let you choose.”

Wulfram smiled, his blood starting to heat as he removed his sword, setting it by the fire. “Fists, I wouldn’t want to scar your pretty face.”

“Fists it is.” Owen grinned ferally and removed his own sword. “I didn’t think you thought I was pretty.”

“Oh very pretty. I think it’s the blonde hair, so rare around here.” Wulfram laughed and stripped off his shirt as well. No sense getting it messed up. Too bad Dani wasn’t here to see this.

Of course if he lost to Owen he’d be glad that she wasn’t here.

“I do have excellent hair.” Owen pulled off his own shirt, stepping away from the fire a few paces. “But maybe not as pretty a face.”

Wulfram grinned and followed him away from the fire, circling Owen patiently. It had been a while since they sparred and he would have to watch to see if he had learned any new tricks. Wulfram’s own training had stagnated somewhat over the last year. Perhaps this trip would sharpen him back up.

“What are you waiting for princling? An invitation?” Owen mocked, circling Wulfram in turn.

“In such a hurry to get your ass handed to you?” He asked, an eyebrow raising. All the better if he could goade Owen into attacking first. He wasn’t going to get suckerpunched again out here.

“I just don’t want to draw out your beating. After all, you ran from some measely skeletons, what do you think you can do to me?”

That hit a nerve, and Wulfram twitched forward slightly, feinting an attack to make Owne react. “I’d like to see you take on some skeletons with a hole in your side and a headache fit to split a cow.”

“Maybe we can hunt some up when we get back to the city.” Owen took a step back and to the side. Then he lunged forward, fist swinging up towards Wulfram’s gut.

Wulfram stepped to the side, grabbing Owen’s wrist to propel him further along his trajectory. He spun to keep facing Owen as the other man stumbled but quickly got his footing back.

“I’d like that, but aren’t you afraid of the dark?” Wulfram grinned, the old banter relaxing in it’s way. He hadn’t been able to trade barbs like this in months, even with Ben. Wulfram lunged forward to tackle Owen to the ground, but Owen pivoted at the last moment and slammed a fist into Wulfram’s side.

He didn’t let that stop him, grabbing Owen’s arm and twisting, even as the breath rushed out of him.

And then there was no time for banter, just fists flying and footwork. Wulfram wrapped his arm around Owen’s neck, his leg moving between his to knock him to the ground. The two men rolled as they each tried to pin the other, occassionally landing hits. The other men watched, Havrick in horror, Gryff and Ben with interest, Verrick with a bored expression on his weathered face.

Wulfram just barely managed to pin Owen to the ground, one arm still wrapped around his neck, the other holding one of Owen’s arms twisted behind his back.

“Yield, you’ve lost this one.” Wulfram panted, knowing he was going to be sore in the morning. But to regain his feeling of strength? It was worth it.

Owen grinned at him, a bit of blood staining his teeth. “I yield, princling.”

Wulfram couldn’t help but laugh as he released Owen, falling back onto his rear as he tried to catch his breath. “You’ve gotten better, city boy.”

“Nah, you’ve just gotten soft.” Owen sat up gingerly, wiping a bit of blood from his mouth. “Good punch though, we might salvage you yet.”

“Well, we’ve got at least seven more days to fix that, don’t we?” Wulfram grinned. It was good to get out of the palace, good to be among comrades again. And sure as hell good not to be getting suckerpunched or kicked in the balls.