Chapter 22

"You did what?" Morgan asks, standing up placing his palms on the large wooden table and leaning towards me, his one good eye staring accusingly at me. It took about an hour to round up the men and have them meet me in the same quarters that the Buglin was held captive earlier in the morning. When they entered and saw that he was missing, they immediately assumed he had escaped. I did my best to ease into letting them know that I decided to let him go but with this being Morgan's reaction I'm sure there will be a few others to follow suit.

We all sit at the meeting table, the large map rolled out once again before us on it's surface. Leaning back in my chair I hear it creak beneath me as my weight shifts and meet Morgan's gaze. "I know you all don't agree with me, bu-" I begin, but Morgan cuts me off with a wave of his hand.

"You're trying to get us all killed is what you're doing," he huffs, taking his seat once more. Thunder rumbles in the distance as the storm draws near.

Durza--my head archer--narrows his pale blue eyes at Morgan. Today he has allowed his usual braid to flow freely, his long blond hair cascading over his shoulders. "Morgan," he chastises. "I know you and Thomas are close, but keep in mind that he is your prince," he says, his eyes flitting towards mine quickly. "King," he corrects apologetically. "My apologizes."

I quickly nod at him, silently accepting his apology.

Morgan inhales slowly before sighing. "You are right," he says, looking at me. "I've always thought of you like a nephew, my lord, I forget my place from time to time."

"It's alright," I say. "I've always encouraged all of you to speak to me how you would like any other man in these meetings. Many of you have more experience when it comes to war than myself, so I'm always eager to hear what you have to say," I say, looking at the other five men--one being Warren. Rory's empty seat serves as a roaring in my ear and forces me to stay on track, so I clear my throat and continue. "Yes. I let him go, Morgan. The Bulgin, Shadrach, really didn't have much information to give other than that Lugos is probably keeping him in his own quarters."

"If I may," Simon asks raising his thumb, middle, and index finger. He has short cropped copper hair and is in charge of the calvary. His pale skin is covered with knicks ands cars over his years serving my father and now he will gain more serving me. "Do you trust this foreigner enough to not share information with Bulgin leader, Lugos?"

Pursing my lips, I give my head a shake. "I don't see what information he could have acquired in his short stay with us, Simon. Any plans were put away before he was brought in here. I didn't share anything with him during questioning, and Max made sure to personally escort him to the forest. I'm sure they've gathered more information spying on us these last few months than what he could have gotten here today."

Simon nods his head in agreement.

"So what's our next move, Tom?" Warren asks, resting his chin in his hand.

The corners of my lips pull downwards. "I know this might be another decision of mine that you all will not agree with, but it is my decision," I begin, pausing. "There was a story my father would sometime tell us before bed. The last time I heard it was when my mother was pregnant with Rose, though I still remember it rather well. Morgan even more so considering you were there," I state, glancing at him. His eyebrows furrow curiously. "Nazima," I press, and I watch as realization flashes across his face.

Morgan gives a swift shake of his head, "You're father only got out by the skin of his teeth. It was pure luck. Besides, those of us that were captured would have died proudly at the end of that war."

Very few know of this tale, as my grandfather deemed it shameful for my father to act in such a reckless manor. It could have not only cost him his life, but the war, and all of Paevia. To a child it was magnificent--to hear how his father not only snuck into a military camp the eve before battle and overhearing a key point in their strategy while rescuing his comrades. With the information he gained he was able to foil the opposing side's plans and was able to claim victory all before noon the following day.

"There is a fine line between bravery and stupidity, boys," his father said to Crispin, Rory, and himself by the hearth before bed. "Sometimes you have to act first then decide afterwards which it was."

Quickly, I recount the events that occured years past before leading into my own plans. "I don't want to sneak in like my father did," I begin. "Rather, come to an agreement on a date and time for the war and ask for Rory back in good faith." Warren opens his mouth to protest but I raise a hand to silence him. "I know that this may be a suicide mission, but it's the best chance my brother has to make it out alive. If we win the war I'm sure the Bulgins would kill him out of spite. If we lose, why would they want to let Prince of Paevia live only to perhaps one day seek revenge? Unless any of you have a better idea, this is happening. Tonight."

Morgan folds his arms tightly across his chest and stares hard at the map on the table. "I don't like this Who is to say that Lugos won't strike you down there?"

Sighing, I run a hand through my hair, ignoring as my fingers snag a tangle. "No one. But I trust that our enemy would not stoop so low and be that conniving."

He rolls his one good eye. "And enemy that is not conniving is about as rare as a hen's teeth."

"Let us come with you," Yuri suggests in a gruff voice. He's usually a man of few words and is Morgan's second in command. His ashen hair is cut closely to his head showing off his aged tattoos. He came to Paevia as a boy from a far away land that has left him with an accent.

Durza gives his head a shake. "We can't. If something happens to any of us our chance of victory diminishes," he says wisely. "Might I suggest taking a few others that are close to you?"

I think this over and agree. "I'll take two men. Just after dinner. If we aren't back by dawn then continue with our plans as normal," I instruct. They share weary glances with each other but nod.

Morgan gives a snort. "I don't like it Tommy. I'll be dammed if we have three Carlyle funerals so you and your brother better come back alive," he says, standing up. His muscular legs press against the table and it scoots closer to me. Without another word Morgan storms out muttering curses under his breath.

Inhaling slowly, I try to control the angry emotions that stirs. I encourage those closest to me to treat me like any other man and Morgan has always been a father figure to me but his behavior was out of line. Squeezing the bridge of my nose I look up at the others suddenly exhausted. "Anything else?" When I'm met with no responses, I dismiss them to their daily duties while remaining seated. For the next hour I contemplate in silence how exactly I want to play the upcoming evenings events as well as who I want to bring with me. Max possible to prove himself further, but I don't want the Bulgins to judge for bringing someone so young to such a serious matter. Perhaps Sven or Nikolas, or even another soldier that I haven't really gotten the chance to get to know. It would be beneficial to expose myself to more of my men rather than always sticking with my most trusted.

Sighing, I stand up and give a stretch ignoring as my shoulders pop in protest. Leaving the tent, I head over to the makeshift training yard and join in on the exercises. It starts to sprinkle, cooling the temperature. As I spar with a few I can't help but notice a particular young man glancing at me every so often. He's stocky and lean and quite talented with is blade. When I finish with my partner, I tilt my head backwards greeting him. His dark brown eyes are caught off guard and he pauses, allowing the man he is sparring with to knick him on his arm. He hardly notices though and only glances down at the small cut.

"You alright or are you able to go a round with me?" I ask with a smirk.

He grins causing his teeth to flash against his russet complexion. "I'd lose the whole limb to spar with you," he says smoothly. Returning his smile, we step aside and I take a fresh grip on the hilt of my sword.

"What's your name?" I ask, stepping forward with a swift swing.

He dodges it with ease and counters which a parry. "Markus," he answers.

We go back and forth for a few minutes and I admit I'm quite intrigued with the lad. He's no more than twenty but has the skill of a man twice that. With every attack I attempt he holds me off before finally we switch and now it is me on defense. A small crowd has formed cheering us on. Finally, he bests me by swiftly hooking my right foot as I go to step back on it and I crash onto the ground. He points his blade at my throat and many of the men clap and chant his name. He offers me a hand, panting.

Smirking, I take it and he hoists me to my feet. "You're good," I compliment.

Markus brushes his dark hair out of his face. "Thank you, your grace."

"Do you have a friend that knows his way around a blade just as well?" I ask, brushing myself off. He gives me a brief nod.

"Aye. My brother Channing," he replies. Someone steps forward and offers him a waterskin that he drinks deeply from before handing it to me. I gulp down the water gratefully before handing it back to Markus.

"Well Markus," I say still trying to catch my breath. "How about you grab Channing and meet me at one of the tables," I say, motioning towards the dining area behind me with my thumb. Markus' face fills with a mixture of excitement and curiosity and he gives me a bow before heading off to find his friend. Turning, I make the short walk to James who is busy skinning a large buck on a pair of hooks nearby. We chat briefly and I look around, noting that the women who are usually helping him--Claire included--are nowhere in sight. "Where are they? Claire and the others, I mean," I ask.

James looks at me, squinting. "I believe they went to the river to wash. Anytime I start skinning an animal they usually run off. Their stomachs can't take it I think," he explains.

The thought of Claire getting queasy plays in my mind and I chuckle, finding the trait endearing. We chat a bit longer and when I see Markus headed my way with an identical man in tow I say goodbye and take a seat at the closest table. Considering lunch has yet to be served, they are are rather empty save for a few.

Markus and Channing pause when they reach me, each bowing at almost the exact same time.

"I take this must be Channing," I greet. "Your twin?"

Markus and Channing flash a grin and nod. I motion for them to sit down and they do. Looking back and forth between the two, I search for a way to tell them apart and notice their noses are slightly different--Markus's lays flatter against his face while Channing's has a wider bridge. Their hair is different as well. Markus wears his longer, allowing his curls to meet his ears while Channing has his pulled back into a bun. I've seen them around before but I always assumed I was seeing the same man over and over again.

I watch as Channing turns to his brother and begins motioning with his hands to his brother. I'm confused initially but realize that Channing must be deaf. Markus gives his brother a nod and turns back to me. "Channing says it's a pleasure to meet you, your grace. He can read lips rather well so don't worry about him missing anything you say."

Feeling the corners of my mouth tug up, I look at Channing and stick out my hand for him to shake. "You too Channing," I greet. I immediately take a liking to him. "Alright boys, I'm going to get straight to the point," I begin. "I'm sure you are aware of Rory's capture. I intend to ride over to the Bulgin camp tonight and speak with Lugos, perhaps come to an agreement about when our battle will take place and hopefully get my brother back. I'd rather go with only go with two men rather than half my army and I was wondering if you two would be the ones that accompany me."

The twin's face suddenly appear surprised and they sit up straighter on their wooden bench. Channing turns to Markus and signs. Markus chuckles. "He wants to know how soon can we leave and when would we get back because," he says pausing as he watches his brother finish his sentence. Markus gives a shake of his head. "No I'm not saying that" he answers. Channing responds animatedly, his dark eyebrows raised. "Because I'm just not," Markus retorts, glancing back at me. "Sorry," he apologizes.

"What did he say?" I ask curiously, noticing that the light sprinkle finally stopped though the storm was still on it's way.

I watch his russet complexion become a shade more red. It's clear that he is slightly embarrassed about his brother's statement. "He wants to know how soon we would get back because he was supposed to meet up with one of the women you bought back. Something about catching fireflies in the woods."

His answer catches me off guard. "Oh? Which one?" I ask curiously.

"Ruth," he says and a face of a quite raven haired woman comes to mind. We've only spoken to each other in passing and I always assumed she more pious than the others--seems I was wrong. I look at Channing and smirk. The thought of these two catching fireflies in the dark woods and sharing a stolen moment is quite endearing.

"I'll try and get you back as soon as I can, lad," I say, clapping him on the shoulder. I then turn to Markus. "I figured we'd head to their camp after dinner, perhaps even eat a bit early. It'll take us about an hour to get there if they are located where I think they are. Meet me back here and bring your swords but do not come in your armor," I instruct to both of them.

Channing gives a nod as does Markus. "Why is that?" he asks, standing up.

"I don't want to come of threatening seeing as that I'm the one asking for a favor," I answer, standing up myself. "As you were," I add, dismissing them.

For the remainder of the day I do my best to keep busy and help with oiling saddles, sharpening blades, and even join the women in the woods to collect herbs for supper. I chat with Claire and attempt to lead her astray from the others with mindless conversation. When we are near a large enough tree, I grab her by the waist and pull her close to me, hiding us from view.

"Thomas!" she chastises in a whisper, slapping at my chest. I give a deep chuckle and gaze into her ocean eyes, wondering how such a color could exist. Thinking of Channing and Ruth, I decide to have a stolen moment myself. Gripping Claire's chin softly, I lean down and brush my lips against hers noting how warm and sweet they are.

"Have you been eating berries today?" I ask before kissing her again. Licking my own lips, I tilt my head. "Blackberries?"

She presses her full lips together and smirks. "Perhaps."

Soliciting one last kiss from her, I release my grip on her waist and we continue collecting herbs. When we foraged all that we could, we come up with a good amount of rosemary, basil, and sage, and of course blackberries.

The women find James and began preparing dinner. For lunch I snack on some dried meat and with no real tasks to do I head to the training yard once again. Finding a spot in the shade, I sit down and watch the many men train in the heat. I give advice when I'm asked and fetch them water from the river, refilling their waterskins over and over again. After the clouded sun has met it's peak and has begun it's descent, I decide it's best to wash for the second time today given tonights audience. Retrieving a fresh set of clothes from my quarters and some soap, I walk to the river with thoughts of my brother coming to mind.

Out of the three brothers, he has always been the most sensitive which is hard to believe considering he's the largest. Given his burly appearance and husky voice one would say he's a man's man, and perhaps he is in certain company. But those that know him closely know how delicate and complex his emotions can be. He and Rose were always close for this reason, and he took her leaving for the Rorik quite hard.

Reaching the river,I greet those that are currently washing--one of them being Gale--and decide to mingle unlike this morning. It's not their fault I've been in such a foul mood.

"Tom," Gale greets, giving me a smile that would have any girl in a five-mile radius swooning. Given how used to seeing him I am, I sometimes forget just how handsome he is.

We all chat as we scrub ourselves clean and the light conversation turns into us sharing our experiences after eating a particular type of mushrooms when we first arrived here at camp. None of us were familiar with the fungi and James said he had recognized it so many of us ate them raw. About an hour later we were on our backs staring at a strange looking sky or giggling in the woods. Even with the stomachache that ensued after, we admit we would eat them again for recreation. In Paevia there are a few similar plants but none with that effect.

When I'm cleaned up as best as I can, I head out of the water and do my best to air dry. Closing my eyes, I place my hands on my hips and try to take in the afternoon sun on my skin before getting dressed.

"Going somewhere?" Gale asks, exiting the water. He eyes my clothing of choice seeing that I have opted for a fine silk shirt and clean linen trousers, pairing them with a pair of fine boots I keep stored in my tent.

"Aye," I say. Gale's face grows serious and he gives a nod, assuming that wherever I'm going must be official business so he doesn't ask. Telling the men goodbye, I go to my quarters and retrieve my longsword, attaching it to my waist. I take my cloak as well, expecting it to rain again at some point during the night. The wind has picked up once again so it's only a matter of time and I can smell it in the air. Grabbing a pile of mint leaves I stick them in my mouth and chew while deciding to style my hair. With no other primping to do, I head out to meet Markus and Channing. I'm early so I pick at my early supper and take my time, enjoying tender deer meat James had prepared earlier.

I see Morgan in the distance talking to a few men a few tables away. By the way his gaze keeps finding my own it's clear he's not really paying attention to whatever story his friends spin. I know he is upset with me--hell, I would be too if our places were reversed--but he'll just have to come to terms with my decision.

Looking down at my bowl, I pluck up the last few strings of meat and pop them into my mouth when Markus and Channing walk up to join me already halfway down with their dinner as well. The two have bathed and are dressed in a pair of clean clothes looking rather identical, though Markus has a longblade in his hilt with Channing carries a deadly looking dagger and a bow.

Markus points a tanned finger at his food and gives an approving nod. "This is probably the best food James has cooked all week," he says, licking the grease from his mouth. Channing nods as well. Chuckling, I wait till they have finished before we drop our bowls at the wash bin and hand them to Claire.

"Thank you," I say, taking note of the worry in her eye.

"You'll come back, right?" she asks, dunking our dishes into the soapy water.

Leaning forward, I place a tender kiss on her cheek not caring who sees. "I will. See you soon," I say. Turning on my heel, the three of us make our way to the stables and we collect our horses with the two of them having to borrow some seeing as they are foot soldiers.

Channing gladly hoists himself up and gets situated before leaning forward and petting his stallion on his powerful neck. Markus and myself follow suit.

Turning to the young men I give them a nod before clicking my teeth and together we make our way to the Bulgians.