Kaspar watched Bernard make his way to the table.
Dressed properly in Klaus’ old clothes, he looked the perfect image of a Prince. It was a shame about his hair, but it would grow back. Even the tiny horse that followed behind him like a pampered lap dog no longer felt out of place. Now that he’d heard Coen’s description of the magic incantation that miniaturised a full-size horse, it made the picture of a future fae King even more complete. Kaspar regretted not waiting at the door to catch a glimpse of it himself. Regardless; he felt more comfortable assessing Bernard in these conditions, even if they were artificial.

He decided Bernard was a gentle boy. Not a warrior at all. It probably never occurred to him that he’d need to arm himself. That softness meant he wasn’t quite ready for the struggle for the throne. Life never waited for people to be ready - it wasn’t kind enough for that. It was clear that the fairy believed Bernard was up to the task, and Kaspar wasn’t about to second-guess her. She’d been supporting the Kings of their kingdom for a little over a hundred years. She had experience.

Bernard tried to keep his eyes pointing straight ahead, so he could avoid looking at anyone too closely. He didn’t want to embarrass himself at the dinner table. He was thankful that Kaspar’s emotional scars manifested as the back part of a short pointed stole. It was the sort he’d expect certain kinds of scholar to wear. Unless Kaspar turned away from Bernard, he wouldn’t have to avert his eyes.

The food served was excellent, but Bernard didn’t have much of an appetite. Even with his precautions to avoid looking too close, he was preoccupied with thoughts about the abundant strands of fear and anxiety hanging in the air around the servants. It seemed the soldiers stationed in the fort were less prone to some of these types of emotional scar, but they were not at all immune. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering why different shades of fear were so much more prevalent here than Hochenberg. He wanted to ask but didn’t know how to broach the subject without offending anyone. In the end, it was none of his business how these people felt. He wasn’t one of them. He hadn’t lived through the events that shaped this particular town.

At least Agatha seemed happy with her bowl of porridge and fruit. They even gave her a dish of water flavoured with molasses. She was being spoiled rotten.

Kaspar waited impatiently until Bernard put down his utensils, in the way that indicated he was done. He didn’t wait for the boy to finish wiping his mouth. He launched into his interrogation;

‘Now that we’ve eaten, I suppose I should address the elephant in the room. Do you intend to challenge your brother?’

Agatha snorted loudly, amused. She hadn’t expected the Earl to go straight for the jugular like that. Even Bernard was shaken by the directness of the question. He said;

‘I didn’t start out intending to. I genuinely wanted to support him. In doing that, I crossed him unintentionally. Now he sees my mere existence as opposition.’

Kaspar found himself in two minds about the answer. It was both too specific and too vague. He pressed;

‘Rumour has it that you were deposed because you know the fairy sword is broken. Is that true?’

‘I don’t think it’s broken, but it doesn’t have to be broken to fail. Shortly before I was deposed, I was worried because I didn’t think the wording of the fairy’s agreement would allow anyone other than our Father to use the enchantment on the sword. That was why I wanted to find her. I wanted Lothar to know if he was bluffing or not when he claimed the sword would work for him. It seemed important.’

‘What did she say?’

‘She asked me to get it back for her.’

Kaspar was stunned. The boy was a lot wiser than he gave him credit for. King Luis’ reign only began because he’d gone and got the fairy’s sword, proving that she had forgiven him. Even with her blessing he barely managed to maintain control. The threat of rebellion was always lurking just under the surface. The sword was the only thing that prevented it from getting out of control.

Lothar wasn’t much better liked than his Father. He had a temper and was known for being excessively vengeful. It wouldn’t have been as much of a problem if he were the son of a lower-ranking noble, but as the King? He was dangerous. Without the fairy sword in his possession, he’d have been overthrown already. There were plenty of people that wanted to put Pepin on the throne. He wasn’t ideal, but King Pepin II was infinitely preferable to King Lothar. The problem was; Pepin didn’t have the sword. Worse; he didn’t seem willing to take it.

Nobody thought little baby Bernard had a chance. He wasn’t even a contender.

While Pepin was relatively popular, there were far more people that wanted all three of Luis’ children out of the way so they could put forward an entirely different set of candidates for the crown. It was clear to Kaspar. Losing the sword would throw the kingdom into a civil war.

But, it seemed the fairy gave Bernard his own gifts to replace the sword. If he stepped up with the right support, he might be able to prevent unnecessary bloodshed and return stability to the kingdom. Kaspar said;

‘So, she wants to take back the sword. It is hers, so I suppose it can’t be helped. It heartens me to see that she has granted you gifts of your own,’ he gestured towards Bernard, ‘The crown, the enchanted horse.’

Bernard shook his head.

‘Agatha was already magical. She helped me get to the fairy.’

Bernard paused to check Agatha’s expression. It was mostly inscrutable; she was a horse. He wasn’t sure she’d appreciate being spoken about like this, but she didn’t look especially annoyed.

‘So that really is Prince Pepin’s wild and unmanageable racehorse, Agatha? I thought it must have been a lookalike. Her fierce reputation made me think it would be impossible for anyone to ride her without tack, and every report about you said you were riding completely bare.’

Agatha preened.

Kaspar was completely convinced. The fairy chose Bernard. She probably chose him long ago, maybe even before his birth. She must have sent the horse to the royal stables early to watch over the boy and bring him to her when the time was right. She literally gave him a crown when he sought her out. Bernard might be reluctant now, but he couldn’t avoid fighting Lothar if he planned to collect the sword as the fairy asked. Lothar wouldn’t give it up while his heart still beat in his chest. Bernard said;

‘She’s intelligent. She only needs verbal direction. A bridle would just make her uncomfortable.’

‘It’s no wonder she got so rough when Pepin tried to have her treated like a normal horse. It’s a wonder the fool didn’t realise sooner. She’s always looked rather fae. She must have an amazing pedigree’

‘I don’t know her parentage, but her brother’s name is Falada.’

Kaspar raised his eyebrows.

‘I’ve heard of a horse named Falada. He belonged to a Princess in a neighbouring kingdom, not long ago. His dedication to protecting her outlived him. She credits his posthumous interference for her rise to the status of Queen.’

‘He’s dead?’

‘Beheaded by enemies of the Princess.’

Agatha rolled her eyes. Falada was a self-aggrandising idiot. He had his own fairy patron. He could be restored any time he liked, but he chose to stay a talking disembodied head.

Kaspar was certain there could be no companion more appropriate for an aspiring King than a horse like Agatha. The boy would face arduous trials, but his success was guaranteed. It was only a matter of time. The more supporters he had, the quicker he’d be on the throne. The kingdom could rest easy after decades of mismanagement.

Supporting Bernard this early might be risky if Lothar caught wind of it, but Kaspar was certain he could outlast any siege commanded by the young King. The potential return on investment far outweighed the risk. New titles and lands were nothing compared to being a trusted confidante to an immature and impressionable King. He said;

‘On that note; have you given thought to what you want me to say to King Lothar?’

Bernard shook his head.

‘I’m undecided. I want a chance to talk with him, but I can’t think of a way to persuade him to come and meet me. Even offering to meet him at the castle doesn’t seem like a good idea.
If you tell him that I’m headed back to the capital, he might set even more ambushes on the roads, or he might decide to leave the roads clear so he can concentrate on having me impressively pin-cushioned by archers at the gates.’

‘Not all problems can be solved with words. While I think it’s best to avoid bloodshed between brothers, you may not have a choice with Lothar.’

‘I want to try.’

‘Sleep on it, then. The solution might be more obvious in the morning. I’ll see what I can think up myself.’

When Bernard awoke, his old clothes still hadn’t been returned.
A fresh outfit, presumably belonging to Kaspar’s son, awaited him instead. He put it on reluctantly. He suspected the delay in returning his own shirt and jacket was part of a ploy to use etiquette to bully him into staying at the fort longer. While the conversation the night before had persuaded Bernard that Kaspar intended to help, the morning brought new doubts. The situation didn’t quite feel right. If Kaspar meant to detain him, he would have. He didn’t stand to gain much from helping Bernard, unless he planned to use him in some kind of play for power. It felt like Kaspar’s excessive hospitality was a trap. He was trying to build a debt of gratitude he could use to force Bernard into doing things he didn’t want to do.

He wouldn’t let a shirt stop him. If he had to, he’d wear it to town, buy another new shirt, and pay someone to take this one back to the fort. When a servant came to invite him to breakfast with the Earl, Bernard slung his satchel over his shoulder defiantly. He was ready to leave at any time.

Kaspar greeted him brusquely at breakfast.

‘Ah, she finished them in time. Those clothes suit you much better than the rags you came in with. Keep them.’

Bernard looked down at the sleeves of the new coat, slightly bewildered. All he could say was;

‘Thank you.’

‘Did you decide what to say to Lothar?’

Bernard took a moment to gather his thoughts.

‘I think you should tell him that I’m on my way back to see him. It’s impossible for me to hide when I stand out so much, so he’ll work it out eventually anyway. This way he won’t think you’re conspiring with me when other sightings contradict your message.’

Kaspar nodded. The boy’s reasoning was sound, but this was at the very reckless end of bravery. He was still unarmed and alone.

‘I’ll have the message sent shortly. Will you stay and wait for a reply?’

‘I’d rather not.’

‘I won’t stop you then. Instead, I’d like to offer you the use of some of my men. It’s not safe to travel alone. If you have soldiers with you, bandits will be less likely to bother you.’

Bernard knew an entourage would slow him down too much. He’d be a sitting duck if Lothar sent his own soldiers. He said;

‘I don’t want to make Lothar think I’m raising an army.’

‘Then just take two. Two will look like an escort I’ve sent to keep tabs on you.’

That was the other reason Bernard didn’t want company. He didn’t want Kaspar watching him.

‘I’d really rather not.’

‘You’re going out alone and unarmed. I can’t send you off like that. It’s a miracle you haven’t already been taken by bandits.’

‘I was attacked by a gang of bandits yesterday. They failed to capture me. I can handle myself.’

‘You were attacked?’

Bernard produced the two arrows he had been keeping in his satchel. Kaspar was surprised. Had Bernard snatched them from the air while he was fleeing, or collected them from the ground after fighting the bandits to a rout? Neither possibility was realistic. Kaspar took the arrows and examined them. Plain goose feather fletching with simple flat leafbladed heads. Too common. If the fletching had been dyed or styled, or the heads had been more unique, he might have been able to work out who made them. He handed them back, silently, unwilling to admit they were unidentifiable. He said;

‘You were lucky. You won’t be able to avoid every arrow, and your horse can’t outrun everyone. What if you’d been caught in that ambush on the ferry?’

Bernard shook his head again.

‘I still don’t want to bring anyone with me.’

‘At least let me arm you.’

Bernard intended to stop in the town to buy a bow with the money he’d got from his magic purse that morning. He was reluctant to take more gifts from Kaspar. He felt like he had already overstayed his welcome, and he didn’t want to owe Kaspar too much.

‘I don’t think I can accept. It will look like you’re supporting me.’

Kaspar sighed, exasperated. The boy was too stubborn.

‘Nobody will know who gave you the sword if it doesn’t have my family crest on it. You could have bought it from an ex-mercenary, or taken it off the body of some bandit that attacked you. Please, take something for my peace of mind.’

 

The fort’s armoury was large and well-stocked.
Bernard hadn’t realised just how many men-at-arms Kaspar employed until he saw it. The armourer he was introduced to was scarred and grey. His name was Hahn. He was wrapped in an unnaturally billowing and slightly translucent cloak. Looking at it made Bernard feel oddly numb. He tried to ignore it.

‘His Highness has instructed me to give you as many weapons as you’re willing to take. Anything in particular you’d like?’

‘A bow and some arrows. I’ll be on horseback. Hopefully, that’s all I’ll need.’

‘Easy. Hold your arms out so I can measure your draw length.’

Bernard did as he was instructed. The armourer measured him, then went to look through the bundles of unstrung bows. Hahn didn’t notice Agatha wander in among the racks and stands. The bow the armourer selected for Bernard was as generic as a horsebow could be. Something he could conceivably have bought from any bowyer, anywhere that yew trees grew. They grew everywhere.

Bernard strung it and drew it experimentally. It was a little heavier than he was used to practising with, but not so bad his arms shook. Hahn nodded, satisfied.

‘Now. Some arrows. How about these?’

He handed Bernard a quiver. Bernard selected an arrow and examined the head. It was a barbed arrow for game hunting. It wouldn’t pierce armour. That was fine. If he was attacked by armoured knights, he intended to run.

‘Excellent.’

‘If you’re on horseback… take this as well.’

The armourer offered him a lance. A proper one, made for war. Not the colourful junk used for tilting at tournaments. The head was sharp and unadorned. The vamplate was a solid steel affair that sat above a plain leather grip. The butt was tipped with a short steel spike. If he took it, it would look intimidating. He wanted that. The problem was; he had to carry all his own equipment. The strap dangling from the grip would allow him to sling it over his shoulder, but it would get in the way when he wanted to shoot. He’d probably wind up dropping it, and then he’d look like an idiot.

‘Thank you, but I’m not sure I can carry it.’

‘How about a sword then?’

Swords were easier to carry. He already had a belt to attach the scabbard to. They were valuable, though. He wanted to look less inviting, not more.

‘No. I’m travelling alone. If I’m in close enough to draw a sword, I’ve probably already lost the fight.’

‘You’re a more practical sort than I was expecting.’

The heavy tread of feet sounded in the courtyard outside the armoury. Kaspar entered with several attendants. He saw the lance in the armourer’s hand and the bow under Bernard’s arm.

‘That’s all you want? Come now, don’t embarrass me by leaving with so little. I can equip you better than that. Hahn, get him a sword. While you’re at it, get that armour that Klaus didn’t wear. It should fit Bernard.’

The armourer bowed low and obediently went to gather the items as he was commanded. Bernard protested;

‘I don’t need that much. It’s not a long trip.’

‘It’s nothing I’ll miss. I’m not using it.’

‘Won’t the armour be recognisable?’

‘My boy grew so fast he’d outgrown it before it was finished. He used the helmet but never wore the rest of it. He’s the only other person that will know where it came from.’

Bernard felt trapped. He’d already politely refused. Etiquette dictated that he should now accept the gifts unless he had a valid reason not to. He didn’t want to reveal that he was invulnerable, if he could help it. His only hope was that it didn’t fit. It probably wouldn’t.

‘Alright. I’ll try it on.’

Bernard allowed himself to be dressed in the handsome quilted gambeson. He meekly held up his arms so the heavy chain hauberk could be pulled down over him. He baulked when he was presented with the steel cuirass.

‘This seems like a lot of weight for Agatha to carry. She’s not a warhorse.’

‘You underestimate her. She’s plenty strong enough for this. I’m sure she can manage a great deal more.’

Once the cuirass was strapped in place, Kaspar went over to inspect the fit.

‘It’s a little large, but not by much. Room for you to grow. I knew it would be right for you. I don’t feel safe letting you leave alone, without armour. You have to take it. I won’t accept no for an answer.’

Hahn presented Bernard with a sword. Kaspar turned to step away so Bernard had enough space to heft it. In the process, Bernard caught sight of the stole hanging from the man’s back. It was only for a moment, but it filled Bernard with an overwhelming sense of grief for a son killed in a pointless duel. The guilt of knowing he had failed as a father. The desperation with which he clung to his surviving child. Bernard gasped at the cold shock of it. Quietly, he asked;

‘What was his name?’

Kaspar looked back. Bernard was pale.

‘Whose name?’

Bernard’s wide eyes cut right through him. He knew who Bernard meant.

‘Isoard.’

His first son. Kaspar hadn’t spoken the name for twenty years. It hurt too much. Bernard lowered his gaze to the floor. He said;

‘The armour fits well. Thank you.’

Kaspar nodded absently, remembering things he wished he could have forgotten.

‘Wear it in health.’

 

Bernard rode away from the fort in a daze.
He didn’t notice Agatha had stopped until Didrika put his old jacket into his hands. The hole in the side was discreetly mended, but she had sewn a large round patch with a hexafoil embroidered on it over the hole in the back.

‘For protection. You probably don’t need it, but I thought there wouldn’t be any harm.’

Bernard smiled.

‘I appreciate it.’