Bedding Camp

Chapter 2: Welcome To Camp

Chapter Two - Welcome To Camp

When the gates were opened, a small unit of a dozen men was waiting on the other side.

"Good day ladies, your Highness..." an older voice greeted them.

In unison, each of the foreigners removed their masks to reveal themselves. To everyone's surprise, they were a squadron of older men. Grey hair and age lines graced the tanned faces of the well-dressed soldiers mounted across from them. Each man was obviously no younger than forty-five.

Hal chuckled to himself. If these were a sample of the men the Sovereign had claimed could woo his collection of icy, detached maidens, that slip of a man was clearly stark raving mad.

"Good day gentleman." Answered the King politely, urging his horse forward to meet the strangers.

"I trust no harm shall befall my subjects during this journey?" He asked suspiciously.

"On my honor, your Grace." The man saluted the King, bringing his fist to his heart.

"And as promised, the sign of good will."

The soldiers parted, and from the center, a small golden pony dutifully emerged; upon his back was a small boy with piercing blue eyes and dark, raven curls.

The amber eyes of the king widened. When the Sovereign had promised him a sign of goodwill, he had expected a chest of gold, or perhaps a fine stallion, not the small, angelic child he saw before him.

"But... But that is a child."

"Indeed, may I present to you the youngest offspring of the Sovereign." Announced the older man with salt and pepper hair, and unmistakably kind eyes.

"The Sovereign offers him into your personal care until our return. Our leader understands that you are in fact entrusting our camp with several of your own blood. The Sovereign trusts that you will care for the boy with the princely respect that he deserves?"

The King was taken aback. This was an incredible gesture.

"You have my word. I shall treat this boy as if he were my own."

"Now if the ladies would please join us, Daylight is burning." Announced the soldier, placing his helmet back on his face.

With little argument, Chalice carried her master over the drawbridge and away from the safety of the castle.

The journey was long, and the soldiers that were herding them lacked a better word and remained as silent as the grave. After the initial nerves had faded, and when the castle had finally faded from the view behind them, Illyria let Chalice fall back until she reached the side of her childhood friend.

Rosaline's brown eyes lit up when she caught sight of her familiar face. "Illyria!" She greeted. A small smile washed over the face that had spent the few last hours in a deep depression. She had been forced to leave the monastery under royal orders, right in the middle of the first prayer.

"Rosaline, it is so wonderful to see you again." Illyria reached out to pat the elbow of the girl beside her.

"Pity not, it could be under better circumstances."

Over the next hour or so, the two friends quietly conversed. Both were glad for the minor distraction of the company they brought to each other. It was a small relief to the dread that had built up within them as they took each step further away from Rowland.

Rosaline spoke of her time in the service of the church, her excitement of how she was to be made a full-fledged sister and soon become a part of the church wholly. Illyria, in turn, filled her in on the recent events in her life: her silent rise up the ranks, her engagement to the Baron and the perks it would provide. There was no mistake in her ambition or the desire for respect and power in her voice. This ambition did not offend her old friend though, this was who Illyria had always been.