Oskar was fascinated by the nightly celebrations of the Fri. The further they travelled from Adersta, the more joyous their festivities became, despite the lack of any hard spirits. The vocals became less refined and the lyrics more entertaining. The celebration reached its climax after almost a week. It was a night of love songs and dance. Yri performed a captivating walk over coals, and all over camp an affirmation of life was performed under blankets and lovers. It was utterly hedonistic. It was far from Nordborg customs, but even further still from the ones Oskar had learned to observe. He remembered it all too well, how difficult it was at first, how terribly anxious he had been that first winter’s night. Closing his eyes, he thought back to it, and a smile spread over his face.

Snowflakes gathered in the window frame, slowly taking over more and more of the glass. Oskar shivered. A fire was smouldering in the hearth and he knew he had no sensible reason to complain, but he felt cold regardless. It was not the heat of a fire that he so sorely missed.

Winter had come early. When they had returned to the castle a week ago, they found it frozen over. Fires had been lit immediately to stave off the biting cold, but it took time to heat stone and mortar. So they had decided to share beds for a few nights, to keep the heat. During those nights, Oskar had discovered that the presence of Tone at his side was more calming than any tincture, and much warmer than any fire. Every night since felt colder and lonelier in contrast. His soul strained in his chest.

Oskar tossed and turned for hours, but eventually he gave up and got out of bed. He pulled his cloak tightly around himself and left his rooms. Surprised to see him at this hour, the guard posted at his door shoved off from the wall and straightened their back. Oskar waved a hand in dismissal as he passed by, and the guard relaxed. Walking down the corridor, Oskar knocked on Tone’s door. Not waiting for an answer, he slipped inside and smiled awkwardly.

Tone sat up in his bed and rubbed at his eyes. “Oskar? What is happening?”

“I was freezing”, Oskar lied. “Would you mind it if I stayed here tonight?”

“Not at all. Anything to help”, Tone agreed at once.

Glad to be allowed this, Oskar folded his cloak over the foot end of the bed and crept under the blankets. He arranged a pillow and stretched out. The effect was almost instantaneous. He rested much easier at Tone’s side. His soul settled contently in his chest.

“Good night”, Tone said.

“Good night”, Oskar responded.

Exhaling audibly, he shifted to find a comfortable position. Tone shifted a little as well and nudged his elbow against Oskar’s in the process. Oskar pressed his lips into a thin line. It was bad just how strongly he reacted to this small point of contact. It was terrible. His soul, content just a moment ago, longed stronger now than it had before. The urge to reach out tingled all over his arm. It ghosted over his shoulder and tickled his neck. He shuddered. Taking a hold of the blanket, he clenched his hand around the fabric.

“Are you alright?”, Tone asked softly.

Oskar nodded a little. “I am fine.”

“What is on your mind?”

Oskar knew he was not supposed to feel the way he felt, but he could not help it. He could sense Tone beside him, so close, yet too far away. He could feel the blanket rise and fall with each breath. Tone’s very presence was tugging at Oskar’s soul so hard it hurt. It was not right. He was supposed to feel this way about a woman, not a man. He had to father children one day. His bloodline was of importance to Sev. He had no brothers. His father would never approve. This was not in accordance with his duties as an heir.

“I do hope I am not bothering you”, he whispered another lie.

“Not at all, My Liege”, Tone said.

Relief and worry battled in Oskar. It would have been a lot easier if Tone simply rejected him.

“Perhaps”, Tone began quietly. “If you wish, you could sleep here more often. If it is too cold in your chambers, I mean.”

“That seems reasonable. Thank you for the offer”, Oskar agreed.

He glanced over at Tone, just in time to catch Tone avoiding his gaze. The dark eyes focused on the ceiling above instead, but Tone’s elbow did not retreat along with his gaze. It stayed, maybe even pressed closer, ever so slightly. Oskar drew a measured breath. It was years still before this attraction could ever pose a problem. Surely, by then, whatever lust he experienced now would have lost its sway over him. The novelty would be gone and Tone would be nothing more than a guard to him. Shifting his arm ever so slowly, he begged in silence for Tone not to shy away from him.

Tone did not.

A smile tugged at Tone’s lips when he noticed the tentative approach. Oskar felt the arm he was sneaking toward come to him in answer. Their hands met and their fingers entwined. Oskar could swear his soul was abut to leap out of his chest at any moment. He wanted nothing more than to get closer still. He could trust Tone to keep silent about this. He knew that. He turned onto his side.

Tone tensed, squeezing his hand.

“Tone?”

Tone did not meet Oskar’s eyes. He stared intently at the ceiling. “Oskar. There is something you should know.”

“What is that?”

“In my culture, men do not approach.”

“Have I made a mistake?”, Oskar worried.

Tone shook his head. “No, but I wanted you to know, in case you want to make one.”

Oskar smiled. Making his approach, he draped an arm around Tone’s waist. After a moment of tense surprise, Tone returned the embrace. A small miracle happened that fateful night. A kiss. A slow and hesitant brush of lips was exchanged. Both men were eager, but neither was willing to commit to the kiss. For their own reasons, both of them held back. Nonetheless, a kiss it was. The first of many.

Looking around the Fri camp, Oskar contemplated his options. It did not seem like he had to be nearly as careful here as he had been back then. His soldiers gladly followed the Fri ways for the night, slipping into tents with them and kissing openly around the fires. Glancing at Tone, Oskar decided to find out if that applied to all of his soldiers. He finished his beer and headed for his tent, bidding Tone inside.

Come morning, Tone had left the tent. Hardly surprised, Oskar stretched slowly and groaned. He got ready and stepped outside. The sun hung high in the sky and the camp was already being dismantled.

“Morning, Sleepyhead!”, Kaija teased. She was carrying a sack over her shoulder and hurrying past. “If you want any breakfast, you had better hurry!”, she called before she disappeared around a corner.

Walking to the baker’s tent, Oskar found the cooks packing up. Frida spotted him and shook her head in amusement. Theodorus nudged him and held out a bowl of porridge.

“Why did you not wake me?”, Oskar complained.

“Good morning to you as well”, Theodorus chuckled. “It seemed to me that you could use the rest. Tone was sure exhausted after last night.”

Oskar grabbed the bowl from him with unnecessary force. “Tell Tone to take down the tent.”

“He is already working on it”, Theodorus responded. “Once you are ready, there is something I think you should see before we depart.”

“Give me a few minutes”, Oskar agreed.

Theodorus stood still and watched him eat. This kind of intrusive behaviour used to bother Oskar, but he was quite used to it by now. Once he had finished his meal, he handed the bowl back. Theodorus handed it on to one of the cooks, who gave him an irritated glare, but did not protest. Then, he motioned for Oskar to follow him and headed for the horses. Only a handful of people had begun tending to their horses, but Una and Ida had already readied and saddled two for Oskar and Theodorus. Mounting, Oskar took the reins. Before he could ask his question, someone else did.

“Where are you going?”, Sylvia wondered.

“Want to come?”, Theodorus offered.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“If it is of interest, of course”, Sylvia said.

“It is”, Theodorus declared.

Oskar chuckled to himself.

Slimming her eyes, Sylvia glanced between the two of them. She was definitively curious now. Afi was still busy saddling their horses, though. “Is it far?”, she asked.

“Not at all”, Theodorus replied, offering her a hand.

Taking the invitation, Sylvia got up on the horseback behind him. Theodorus held her hand just a little longer than necessary, checking on her burn. Sylvia wrapped her arms around Theodorus and was surprised how slender he felt. With his wide cloak, it was easy to forget he had such a lithe figure. She felt over the cloth. Was he even wearing any armour?

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

“Hold on now”, Theodorus prompted.

Sylvia tightened her hold on him and they dashed off. Cutting straight through the woods east of camp, they soon reached another clearing. It was artificial, and housed a small village. The houses were simple but well tended. A few chickens vocalized complaints at their arrival.

Sylvia slid down from the horse. She peered through a window. There were no signs of battle. The place was simply empty. Everything was packed with care. Chairs had been turned upside down on the tables. Dust had begun to settle, and a few cobwebs were in the corners.

“What happened here?”, Oskar asked.

“The place was abandoned”, Theodorus said.

“I can see that. But why?”

“Wolves”, Sylvia theorised.

“My thought exactly”, Theodorus nodded.

“Is it safe for us to be here?”, Oskar questioned.

“These people must have left out of fear. I doubt we are in any acute danger”, Sylvia shrugged.

“She is good. I doubt you need me around any more”, Theodorus jested.

The rooster refused to give up on his shouting match with the rumble of an incoming storm. Sylvia sighed in his general direction. Walking up to the enclosure, she crouched down. The rooster lowered his head and puffed up his feathers. Sylvia stared right into his eyes. The rooster shifted from foot to foot before turning away. He kept watching Sylvia, but remained quiet.

“She really is. You are dismissed”, Oskar joked.

Theodorus crooked his head in bewilderment.

Pleased with the silence, Sylvia stood back up. She looked around and spotted a stable at the edge of the village. It was crooked and old, just like the one in Nyberg had been. She walked to it and pushed at the door. It was locked. Curious. This village was much smaller than Nyberg, and no one in Nyberg had ever bothered locking any door. In fact, they had not even bothered with installing locks in many buildings. The stables were always open, always offering a welcome reprieve. Sylvia ran her hand over the wood. She closed her eyes for a brief moment and saw Rebecca's face. When she turned away, she noticed Theodorus. He was once more staring at her with full intensity.

“What?”, Sylvia challenged.

“Are you okay?”, Theodorus asked.

“Why would I not be?”

Theodorus shrugged. “No reason.”

Sylvia frowned deeply.

“Sylvia, I heard you are from a small village which was attacked by Wolves. May I ask how you ended up with a Wolf as sworn?”, Oskar inquired.

“It is a long story”, Sylvia evaded.

“There is no short version?”, Oskar prompted.

Sylvia sighed, but gave in. “Wolves destroyed my home. They took me prisoner and sold me like a piece of furniture. Afi saved me, so when it came time to repay my debt, I did. I took him under oath instead of leaving him at Thorun’s mercy.”

“Is taking a dead man under oath an act of mercy? Is it not akin to slavery?”, Theodorus questioned.

“It is not! Giving an oath is a choice.”

“Do semantics help you sleep?”, Theodorus prodded.

“Theo!”, Oskar reprimanded.

Both Theodorus and Sylvia ignored him in favour of their argument.

“He could have refused”, Sylvia argued.

“Could he?”, Theodorus challenged.

“What would you have me do? Let him die?”

“Not at all. I think you did the right thing. I find it hard to believe that he would have preferred to die there. I am not saying I think you are in the wrong, given the situation. I am just saying, the argument that he had a choice is a very weak defence.”

Sylvia sighed again. “Maybe. Either way, he is sworn now, and he seems okay with that.”

“So you have a Wolf sworn, yet you set them aflame without hesitation”, Oskar prodded.

Sylvia looked up at him for a long moment. Oskar’s face was carefully blank, but Sylvia was not fooled. “The priest who taught me to read always said to hold any man in contempt who shies from honesty. If you have a question, ask it.”

Theodorus exhaled sharply, and then coughed to to mask a giggle.

“How did such a young woman as yourself come up with the idea to melt someone's face off?”, Oskar asked.

“Fight fire with fire. That was my inspiration. I came up with sticky fire at Holms Fäste. We fought fear with fear. We turned their own weapon against them. We teased them for days, shaking their morale. The sap boils hot, but more importantly, it sticks to you, follows you wherever you go. It is terrifying to be on fire and to be utterly unable to put it out. Even if you kill the flame, your skin keeps boiling.” Sylvia ran her fingers over her palm. “It is quite effective.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Sylvia turned to the stables again. She got up on her toes to look through a window. It did not seem like there was anything of value inside. She noticed Theodorus gesticulating something to Oskar, but decided not to react to the covert communication.

Eventually, Oskar broke the silence. “You are familiar with Wolves. Do you reckon they have been here? Might we be running into them again soon?”

Looking at the chickens clucking behind the fencing, Sylvia shook her head. “Wolves do not leave anything. They ravage the lands. There is no way they have been here. Besides, I doubt they would dare to get this close to Brofäste. At least not with little skirmishes like the one we ran into. It would take a concerted effort for a hostile force to strike here. From what I have read, not even the Bears from the mountains come within a day’s reach from Brofäste or Guldhamn.”

“Very true. But their reach goes beyond their presence. A howl is enough to strike fear”, Theodorus added.

“If only”, Sylvia mumbled.

Thunder echoed through the woods around them.

“We had better get going. Brofäste is not far. I will be glad to have a roof over my head if that storm comes our way”, Oskar urged.

“Should we free the chickens or kill them?”, Sylvia asked.

“What do you mean?”

“This seems cruel. When the feed runs out, they will starve to death. I say let them free to fend for themselves, or kill them and bring them back for food. Though, they would probably not survive long in the wild either way.”

“Would that not be stealing?”, Oskar questioned.

“No one has been here for weeks. I doubt the inhabitants are about to return”, Sylvia shrugged.

“More food is always good. We are feeding an army”, Theodorus argued.

Oskar nodded. “Kill them. Be quick.”

Theodorus hopped down from his horse and strode over to the hen house. The rooster began warning again.

Upon their return, Frida was pleased with the addition of fresh meat. Yri was less pleased with Sylvia's unannounced absence, and Afi even less so with Theodorus’s unasked for reassurances.

Fleeing the storm, the caravan made its way to the banks of Guldader. Where the river forked out, the city of Brofäste lay in imposing grey stone. The centre of the city had been built in three sections around the fork in the river, and the walls stretched out along each arm. A multitude of wide bridges kept the districts connected, each high enough to let a riverboat with generous load pass underneath. It was the perfect place to collect toll from any boat travelling between Guldhamn and Adersta.

“Your turn, Little Prince”, Thorun prompted.

“You are aware that I am not a prince, right?”, Oskar asked.

Snorting, Yri quickly covered her mouth.

“True enough”, Thorun teased. “More like a lamb to the slaughter.”

Oskar frowned at the Fri sisters. Both burst into laughter. Even Kvist could not help but snigger. Theodorus coughed again.

Oskar sighed audibly. He was growing tired of being laughed at.

Thorun reached over to Oskar and took a firm hold of his shoulder. “Do not be uptight, Little Prince”, she mocked. Dropping the smile, she added, “Now go take the lead. Be a king.”

“Tone”, Oskar prompted.

Tone rode forward to establish contact, but before he had even left earshot, two riders emerged from the city. Tone met them in the middle, and after exchanging a few words returned with them in tow. One rider was dressed in armour. The other was dressed in thick red garments. He was a strong looking man with a short afro.

“He fits the description of Knut MiaIngvar, Mayor of Brofäste. The LiljaKnut family has lead Brofäste since long before the fall of the Crown. They are seen as a reputable bloodline”, Theodorus informed quietly.

“The Mayor himself, and only with a shield? Brave. I like him already”, Thorun commented.

Bringing his horse to a stop right in front of the caravan, the man in red bowed his head. “Oskar AudOlafsson, I assume.”

“Knut MiaIngvar”, Oskar greeted in turn.

The man laughed. “Not quite. Knut is my father. I greet you on his behalf. My name is Vilhelm LiljaKnut.”

“Vilhelm”, Oskar repeated respectfully.

“I take it you are here to negotiate?”, Vilhelm asked.

“Yes. Though, we will have to find shelter first. We have outrun a storm, but it appears to be headed this way”, Oskar hinted.

“Feel free to rest in Brofäste. Our inns are not what they used to be, but we would be honoured to welcome you as our guests.”

“Thank you. We are grateful for your hospitality.”

Vilhelm smiled. “Have your soldiers spread out among the harbours. There are inns and stables along each arm of the Ader. Our citizens will be happy to provide for your troops. Yourself and yours, we welcome to our home.”

“Very well. Lead the way”, Oskar agreed.

The caravan moved into the city, spreading out all along the water and finding accommodations as described. Sylvia followed Oskar to the grand estate dominating the northern district. It was an imposing building right at the salient of land between the arms of Guldader. The terrace reached out over the water and offered a clear view of all the bridges, as well as the water gates. Every gate consisted of a metal grid, which could be dropped into the water at a moments notice, hindering ships from proceeding in or out of the city.

“Impressive fortifications”, Yri praised.

“Brofäste has never been breached and our toll has never been evaded. We pride ourselves on our steadfastness”, Vilhelm proclaimed.

He stepped back when they were joined by a woman dressed in bright red gowns. She was elegant and shapely, with long twists of black hair. Gold jewellery complimented her dark skin. In contrast to Vilhelm, she had the lively eyes of a child, unaltered by hardship.

“Oskar. I am Aulikki, heir to this city. I am afraid my father is feeling ill, but I will speak for him.”

“Aulikki. It is a pleasure to meet you”, Oskar said politely. “I hope your father will recover soon.”

“As do I”, Aulikki smiled. “This way”, she prompted, motioning them inside.

Just past the doors was a grand hall, with a big round table and cushioned chairs. Along the walls were benches for accompanying guards and servants. Aulikki motioned for them to sit. She seemed surprised that their entire company took seats at the table, but she made no comment on the matter. Instead, she motioned her brother and his shield closer and sat down with them at her side.

“Is there anything we can do to make you comfortable?”, Aulikki wondered.

“We usually enjoy wine during negotiations”, Thorun stated. “It helps to cool the head.”

Nodding to a servant, Aulikki made sure their customs were observed. Sylvia slid her glass over to Afi, who gladly indulged in both his own and hers.

“I trust you have everything you require”, Aulikki prompted.

“More than. I was surprised the mayor would send his own son to greet us”, Oskar said.

“A gesture of trust.”

“Quite a gesture. There are Wolves in these woods.”

“Villagers from the area have said the same”, Aulikki nodded.

“Villagers?”, Sylvia inquired.

“Yes. They have been arriving in Brofäste over the past few weeks. There will likely be more. Some have come to find work in the city. Others travel on to Guldhamn with intentions of emigrating to Eshein. It is unfortunate, but I can only sympathise with their fears. It used to be only the mountain folk who gave us trouble.”

Thorun grumbled in agreement. “Wolves. Bears. All kinds of pests stir in the undergrowth.”

“So I heard. Word is you scattered a troop of Wolves raiding north-east of here.”

“We are here to help and protect the people of Sev”, Oskar confirmed.

Yri exchanged an amused glance with her sister.

“I am glad. We ride out to confront bandits when we can, but we lack the strength to keep the lands safe. I understand it is your intention to secure the Great Rove?”, Aulikki asked.

“In the long run”, Oskar said. “I seek to re-establish the Crown.”

“A noble cause. I understand you are not married? Tell me, have you chosen a wife?”

Oskar tensed visibly. “Not yet.”

“Consider me then, My King. I would be honoured to sit at your side if you would have me.”

“I will keep it in mind.”

Smiling, Aulikki got to her feet. “You must be tried after all this time on the road. Our servants will show you to your rooms.”

Oskar stood and bowed his head ever so little. “Thank you again for the hospitality.”

Leaving the hall, Thorun scoffed. “That is why they were so friendly. The lady wants a crown.”

Theodorus grinned. “Of course she does. She is a good candidate. Right age. Rich house. Very well connected and the heir to a city with formidable strategic position. She even has a brother who can take her place here. It all fits. It only makes sense for her to back Oskar.”

“Not to mention, she is clearly versed in etiquette and politics”, Sylvia added.

Thorun huffed. “Cannot lift a sword to save her life.”

“She would not need to”, Sylvia shrugged.

“Much like you”, Thorun said sharply.

Sylvia smiled to herself. “Much like me”, she agreed.