Steal My Heart

Wulfram tugged at his dress clothes, letting out a dissatisfied sigh. He had wanted to wear his simple leather armor, but his mother had wanted the deep blue, quilted velvet with silver embroidery. That way they could all match and show their kingdoms colors. Wulfram could understand the last part, they were the royal family after all. But the matching outfits? And velvet, in this heat? Well, at least she hadn't argued with him wearing his normal sword, even if she had given his plain, servicable leather sheath a look of disapproval.

But it was her birthday, and he was grateful that she had been gracious enough to allow the sword with its simple sheath. The rest he would suffer through silently, for her sake. Even if it included parading through the streets like a prized peacock.

“Staring at it won't turn it into armor, your highness.” The amused voice came from the doorway, and Wulfram turned with a grin.

“No, it won't, but I can always hope. You're back just in time for the parade, Ben.” Wulfram strode over, grasping the other mans wrist in a soldiers greeting. Ben laughed, returning the greeting in kind, and patting Wulfram on the shoulder. He was still in his armor, road dust still dulling the metal and turning the bottom half nearly brown.

“Her highness would have a fit if I were to show up like this. I only stopped to say hello before you joined the procession, they're waiting for you.”

Wulfram let out a sigh, giving his vest one last tug, resettling his sword and checking that the peaceknot was still in place. “I had best get moving then, I wouldn't want to keep them waiting too long.”

Ben laughed, falling into step beside Wulfram as he headed out of the prince's quarters. They had been friends for most of their lives, progressing through training together and occasionally going on patrols along the kingdoms roads. As heir to the throne Wulfram was in a delicate spot for such activities. He needed to know the kingdom, but he was the only male heir at the moment, which meant he wasn't allowed too close to the border. Not until he provided a male heir himself, something his mother had been reminding him of far too much recently.

“At least this won't take long, yes? And later tonight we can have some drinks and I can tell you about the going ons at the border. Hesiodos is making a fuss again.”

Wulfram shook his head. “The only time they stopped is when Mother and their High Queen were friends.”

One of the queens duties in the kingdom of Cresenvasht was to handle social relations with other kingdoms. It had been Queen Mirabel who had looked past the strange custom of keeping a harem to befriend the Hesiodos High Queen, even going so far as to propose an alliance marriage between Wulfram and her daughter. Ironically, it was that proposal that led to their more recent conflicts with Hesiodos. The High Queen had been aimiable to the idea, given that the children got along. And so the High Queen and her daughter had traveled to Cresenvasht with the intention of the pair meeting, but had never reached the palace. They had been attacked by bandits on the road, robbed and slaughtered. The princesses body hadn't been found, but given that the rest of the caravan was dead in the middle of nowhere.... well, it was certain the girl was too.

But that was neither here nor now. The old King Danivell had passed away, his eldest son Alastar ascending to the throne, and they were starting all over again.

“True,” Ben said. “But at least now they talk to us. Maybe we'll find a way to peace again. Hell, maybe they have another daughter you can marry.”

Wulfram let out a growl, glaring at his friend. “Don't say that in my mothers presence. The best case if she overhears you is her giving the idea serious consideration, the worse is her reliving the guilt and grief over what happened the last time they tried sending a daughter to us.”

Ben winced a little, and ran a hand through his sandy hair. “Ah, apologies. I was just trying to make a joke. I wouldn't wish that grief on her again.”

“Nor would I.” Wulfram sighed, and shook his head. “I imagine you need to go give your report, and I need to look happy and strong for the populace and Mother.” Wulfram thawed slightly. He supposed it might have made a good joke, if his Mother hadn't been so obviously upset at the tragedy, and if she hadn't been making it very clear that he needed to find a wife recently. He was in his twenties now, even if just barely. His father had only been 18 when Wulfram had been born, while Wulfram hadn't even found a wife.

“I do. Have fun my friend, I'll see you later for those drinks.” Ben patted Wulfram's shoulder companionably, before turning down the hallway that led to the barracks and General Gavril's study. Wulfram continued straight, into the main hall and then out into the courtyard where the procession was gathering.

An honor guard had already formed, metal armor shined to a mirrored gleam. The only thing that saved them from being blinding to onlookers were the tabards bearing the coat of arms and the colors of the royal family. The king was already standing by his horse, talking to the head of the guard about their trip through the city and back, and Queen Mirabel was fussing over Wulfram's sisters, adjusting tehir circlets and making sure they were comfortable in their gilded carriage. She looked over as Wulfram came out of the castle, smiling warmly. “Wulfram, I was worried you wouldn't make it.”

She took the hand of the servant positioned next to the carriage, stepping down carefully so she could greet Wulfram.

“And miss all this? Of course not.” Wulfram leaned down and kissed his mother's cheek. He might well think this was foolishness, but he wasn't going to let that ruin his mothers and sisters fun.

“Oh, I know full well that this isn't the type of thing you enjoy. But thank you.” Queen Mirabel patted Wulfram's cheek gently, smiling patiently. A servant stepped up, bowing deeply over the blue velvet pillow he held. Queen Mirabel reached over, delicately picking up the circlet that sat on the pillow. The design was deceptively simple, but each piece represented an important part of their kingdoms and families history. The silver band represented their family, magic making it seem to shine blue in some lights. The blood red gemstone set in the center front represented the blood of the dragon their ancestors had slayed, freeing the people of the region and allowing them to establish the Trade Road. lastly was the thin, wavy line of gold that represented the Trade Road itself, and the wealth it brought to their kingdom. Wulfram bent down a little to make it easier for her to place the circlet on his head. He had gotten quite a bit taller than her over the years, and she could no longer reach without stretching up on her tiptoes.

The circlet set in place, Wulfram straightened, smiling. He didn’t wear the circlet often, but for this type of occasion it was a necessary accessory. A piece of history that had been passed down through the generations. “This is your day, Mother. I will enjoy it for you.”

Wulfram’s words brought a quiet laugh out of his mother, her eyes sparkling. “Or at least tolerate it. Your sisters will enjoy it at least. Go ahead to your horse, I’m going to make myself comfortable in the carriage.”

“Of course, Mother.” Wulfram smiled and bowed slightly to her, showing his love for her and respect for her position. In many kingdoms the queen was only a figurehead, and Hesiodos there were no less than four queens at any given time. But in Cresenvasht the queen held an important role. She was the one who handled the more human side of things: trying to make sure food got to those in need, establishing and overseeing orphanages and healers halls, raising the royal family, social relationships with other kingdoms, and more recently, working with reluctant nobles in an attempt to establish schools for the common folk. This last was an ongoign battle, and one that was uphill all the way. Nobles often didn’t see a reason for common folk to learn such things as reading, writing and math. In most cases, what they needed to know they would learn from their elders. If they needed to know math for their tasks, they would learn it from those who knew the required math; anything more was just silly and a waste of time and resources. Wulfram was of the opinion that common folk simply didn’t have time to dedicate to studies, but he would tell his mother that. His area of attention would be the kingdoms safety, finances, treaties, and the training of a new generation of guards and soldiers. He knew better than to encroach on his mother’s territory.

He had seen the forcibly polite conversations that had come about when his father tried to dissuade her from certain courses of action. He felt a chill at the mere thought of it. No, he would leave the women’s work to the women and keep his nose out of it if at all possible.

Wulfram gave his father a nod of respect as he approached. “Father, Sir Orrin.”

“Good morning, son.” King Cynewulf returned the nod, a smile briefly ghosting across his face. “We were just reviewing our route through the city.”

“Guards have been increased along the route, and the streets have been cleared.” Guard Captain Orrin bowed, holding his helmet under one arm. “Your horse has been prepared and we are ready to go as soon as King Cynewulf gives the word.”

“Thank you, Sir Orrin.” Wulfram nodded to the older man, and moved to check the tack on his horse. He trusted his people, but it was simply good practice to check. One incident of him falling on his ass because it was on improperly was more than enough for him. “Your man did a good job of putting the tack on.” He smiled, stroking his horses nose.

“Thank you, your highness. I will be sure to pass on your approval.”

“Sir Orrin, go ahead and give the word to start the procession.” King Cynewulf climbed onto his own horse, pleased by his sons aptitude with the guards. But that was hardly surprising. He had made sure that Wulfram had served some time among them. It did the troops good when they knew that their leader had walked the proverbial mile in their shoes. King Cynewulf himself had served in two wards and numerous battles along side his troops. The first had been years before Wulfram had been born when Hesiodos and Cresenvasht had united against the Empire of Black Ice, driving off their hordes and reinforcing the border along northern mountains. The second had been the first battle of the war between Hesiodos and Cresenvasht, after their High Queens caravan had been attacked within the borders of Cresenvasht, shattering the friendship that had been formed.

“Yes, your highness.” Sir Orrin bowed to them both, turning on his heel sharply as he straightened. He strode to the front of the line, putting on his helmet and mounting his own horse. A signal for the procession to prepare to move. Wulfram mounted his own horse, settling comfortably in the saddle.

“Did you see Sir Bennett returned, Father?”

“I did. I expect to meet with General Gavril and him after the procession to receive the details of his report. I expect you to be in attendance as well.” King Cynewulf smiled, lifting his old gilded warhorn to his lips, blowing out a long, mournful tune. Ahead of them, the portcullis raised with the clanking of heavy chains.

“Mother won’t be happy about that.”

“I am well aware of that, but it can’t be helped.” King Cynewulf set his warhorn back in its loop at his belt and nudged his horse into movement. Guard Captain Orrin may be at the head to clear the way, but the royal men were the true start of the procession, the start of who the people really wanted to see. “Things are tense at the border, I don’t know how long King Alastar will hold off attacking if we can’t find a way to ease things. I would prefer not to go into a full blown war with Hesiodos if we can avoid it. Before it was just the Hesiodos clan, but if he rallies the other clans within his borders...” He trailed off, giving his head a shake.

Wulfram knew the problems they would face, they didn’t need to be said. Hesiodos was the clan that controlled the territories that bore their name, but only to an extent. There were four other clans within their borders that operated semi-independently of each other, each one sending a daughter to join the Hesiodos harem as queens, only one ascending to the role of High Queen to unite them all. If all five clans within the borders united against them... they would have a difficult war on their hands indeed.

“Let us hope that Sir Bennett has brought us some useful information then. He seems optimistic at least.”

“Let us hope indeed.” King Cynewulf nodded, his face settling into a stern but friendly smile as they rode through the portcullis and down the short road that connected to Trade Road. Even so close to the palace, people were gathered, throwing flowers and cheering in a polite and dignified manner. The group this close would be the lesser nobles and richer merchants, those of sufficient enough rank to see the royals first during such processions, but not of high enough rank to actually be in the procession. “Now, pretend to be enjoying yourself for your lovely mother, and show the strength and pride of the Cresenvasht Crown Prince.”

“As always.” Wulfram straightened slightly on his horse, plastering a smile on his own face. It was less stern that his fathers, after all, he was younger and had undergone fewer trials. But he was still the Crown Prince, still strong, proud and virile. He had to show in a hundred small ways that he was capable of following in his fathers footsteps.