June 22nd, 1616
The summer sun beat down on the plains of Machaire Mor, the southern half of the kingdom of Carib, baking the soil where it could find it. Yet there was not much soil to find, nor was there a definitive road. The tribes and clans of the Horse Lords roamed all over the grasslands they called home, never leaving much of a trail to follow. So it was with this journey. Clan MacTeer wound its way through the waving grasses, out-riders set to guard against any bandit foolish enough to try their hand against such fierce warriors. No harm would come to those who were riding in their midst - the sister of the king who would be, and the ladies who traveled with her.
Elspeth Greville, as she had been known in Pomerania - now Princess Elspeth of the House Hasperan - rode with unaccustomed dignity in the midst of the leather-clad warriors all around her, a wilting rose in the summer sun but determined not to slow the pace of their journey. She was eager to see her brother again, and to see Brynhilde, her new sister, too. Unlike the other ladies, including Thomas' wife, she had listened to the comments made by the clan when they had first met, and risen to the challenge to ride, rather than travel in a cart, something they believed was the sign of a weak mind.
Seven days into the journey, she was beginning to overcome the pain of being saddle-sore, able to sit upright without wincing on the mare that had been presented to her as a gift by the leader of their fearsome escort. In just a few days, they would reach the capital city. All she had to do was survive those few days without breaking, and she would have won a rare victory - the respect of the horse lords who already thought her to be delicate as it was.
But not all who escorted the Princess on her journey to Cluaine Mor to join her brother were Horse Lords. There was at least one among them who was a nobleman, one who had sworn his loyalty to Queen Brynhilde. He'd found himself drawn to the gentle young woman in their company, sensing a gentle strength in her and a rare intellect. Of course, it did not hurt that she was fair to look upon, but even the prettiest of faces was boring after a while if there was no personality to match.
Aware that her pale skin was already marked with fresh freckles from the unrelenting sunshine, something she would have to get used to here, Elspeth let out a heavy breath, glad of the breeze that cooled her as they rode along. Glancing about surreptitiously, she looked down at her hands, painfully peeling back the glove on one to look at the sore skin beneath. The combination of sweat and friction was producing a most uncomfortable rash. Just one more thing to conceal from the horse lords around her. Hopefully someone in the capital would know how to deal with such things.
He had been watching her from where he rode a few lengths behind. She was a proud one, to be sure - too proud to ride in the cart with the other women and endure their endless chatter. Despite the quiet strength about her, perhaps she had been quiet too long. Few had dared speak with her, save the Archon's son, and though they had shared a few glances, they had yet to share in conversation. Well, it was always better late than never. He kicked his horse forward to ride at her side, just as she was poking at her glove. "My lady," he ventured, noticing the frown on her pretty face. "Are you well?"
Startled, Elspeth jumped, and the mare she rode reacted too, tossing her white head worriedly before her rider reached out to soothe her. Laughing at little at her silly response to just being spoken to, Elspeth turned her gaze onto the man now riding beside her. "I am well, sir," she assured him. "Unused to the sun and the heat, perhaps." She smoothed her glove back into place to hide the rash on her palm. "I do not believe we have been introduced, Lord ...?"
"Whoa," he said, moving closer so that he could help if the mare got spooked. "A little jittery, isn't she?" he asked, offering a somewhat nervous smile himself. "Bradan," he replied. "But you may call me Miles. I am only my father's second son. Hardly a lord."
And I am a commoner's daughter, she thought to herself, but she knew enough not to say it aloud. Not here, in this new land that needed to believe she was a princess. "Lord Bradan," she nodded, absorbing his name as best she could. "You are still of noble blood, that makes you a lord. Though I had thought younger sons were devoted to the Church. What makes you different, I wonder?"
"My father, no doubt. He feels I am worth more to him and to Carib if I remain close to home, rather than be devoted to the Church." He smiled as he lowered his voice, for her ears alone. "To be honest, I threatened to run away from home and never return if I were to suffer such a fate as that. Blasphemous, I know, but second sons tend to be somewhat rebellious." He shrugged and smiled.
Despite herself, Elspeth giggled at the intimation. She had never learned to entirely school herself, and it was unlikely she would now. "I think you would have made a most scandalous priest," she suggested, and a hint of her more worldly side showed itself in her next words. "Though I hear that there are brothels where a great deal of money can be made from the sacrilegious."
"And how would either of us know of such things, my lady?" he asked, a slight smirk on his face. She had a nice smile when she deigned to smile, and a laugh that was soft and feminine without being girlish.
Despite her smile, Elspeth felt the first flare of panic rise in her chest. She didn't know if Henry wanted people here to know they had been raised as commoners, and without knowing it, she didn't dare to share that information. But she had let something slip there that gave a little away. "I ....I know more and less than most ladies you have ever met, I imagine, sir," she said, hoping to cover her slip with some of that charm her family said she possessed in abundance.
He sensed something in her, some brief faltering or uncertainty. While he tucked the information away in the back of his mind, he did not let her know he had noticed, his smile as friendly as before, as if nothing at all had been amiss. "Miles," he corrected once again. "You need not worry in my company, lady. I am only a second son. There is no need to impress me and certainly no need to call me sir."
A part of her wanted to explain that calling him sir came far more easily to her than his name; that a part of her still considered herself far beneath the exalted circles she now moved in. But she didn't dare, offering a soft smile instead. "Thank you, s- ....Miles." A little at a loss for what more she could say, but liking the company that had been offered after several days of riding in near silence, she cast around for some other topic to touch on. "You say you are a baron's son," she said thoughtfully, "yet here you are, riding with horse lords. What brought you down to the south' I was led to believe that the barons viewed the clans with distaste."
His smile broadened when she said his name, pleased he had convinced her of that, at least. She was a princess, and as such, far above his station, but she was also alone and a stranger in a strange land, at least for now, and the least he could do was offer her friendship. It seemed more than anyone else in their entourage was doing, save perhaps the Archon's son. The thought of that made him inwardly wince, knowing he couldn't hope to compete against such a rival. He hoped she thought the frown was only due to her question - one that was somewhat difficult to answer. He shrugged mildly. "My father is not of the same mind as the other barons. He believes in a unified Carib. We are stronger together than apart, after all, and if we wish to stand up to our enemies, than we must stand together as one people - horselord, baron, and commoner alike."
The summer sun beat down on the plains of Machaire Mor, the southern half of the kingdom of Carib, baking the soil where it could find it. Yet there was not much soil to find, nor was there a definitive road. The tribes and clans of the Horse Lords roamed all over the grasslands they called home, never leaving much of a trail to follow. So it was with this journey. Clan MacTeer wound its way through the waving grasses, out-riders set to guard against any bandit foolish enough to try their hand against such fierce warriors. No harm would come to those who were riding in their midst - the sister of the king who would be, and the ladies who traveled with her.
Elspeth Greville, as she had been known in Pomerania - now Princess Elspeth of the House Hasperan - rode with unaccustomed dignity in the midst of the leather-clad warriors all around her, a wilting rose in the summer sun but determined not to slow the pace of their journey. She was eager to see her brother again, and to see Brynhilde, her new sister, too. Unlike the other ladies, including Thomas' wife, she had listened to the comments made by the clan when they had first met, and risen to the challenge to ride, rather than travel in a cart, something they believed was the sign of a weak mind.
Seven days into the journey, she was beginning to overcome the pain of being saddle-sore, able to sit upright without wincing on the mare that had been presented to her as a gift by the leader of their fearsome escort. In just a few days, they would reach the capital city. All she had to do was survive those few days without breaking, and she would have won a rare victory - the respect of the horse lords who already thought her to be delicate as it was.
But not all who escorted the Princess on her journey to Cluaine Mor to join her brother were Horse Lords. There was at least one among them who was a nobleman, one who had sworn his loyalty to Queen Brynhilde. He'd found himself drawn to the gentle young woman in their company, sensing a gentle strength in her and a rare intellect. Of course, it did not hurt that she was fair to look upon, but even the prettiest of faces was boring after a while if there was no personality to match.
Aware that her pale skin was already marked with fresh freckles from the unrelenting sunshine, something she would have to get used to here, Elspeth let out a heavy breath, glad of the breeze that cooled her as they rode along. Glancing about surreptitiously, she looked down at her hands, painfully peeling back the glove on one to look at the sore skin beneath. The combination of sweat and friction was producing a most uncomfortable rash. Just one more thing to conceal from the horse lords around her. Hopefully someone in the capital would know how to deal with such things.
He had been watching her from where he rode a few lengths behind. She was a proud one, to be sure - too proud to ride in the cart with the other women and endure their endless chatter. Despite the quiet strength about her, perhaps she had been quiet too long. Few had dared speak with her, save the Archon's son, and though they had shared a few glances, they had yet to share in conversation. Well, it was always better late than never. He kicked his horse forward to ride at her side, just as she was poking at her glove. "My lady," he ventured, noticing the frown on her pretty face. "Are you well?"
Startled, Elspeth jumped, and the mare she rode reacted too, tossing her white head worriedly before her rider reached out to soothe her. Laughing at little at her silly response to just being spoken to, Elspeth turned her gaze onto the man now riding beside her. "I am well, sir," she assured him. "Unused to the sun and the heat, perhaps." She smoothed her glove back into place to hide the rash on her palm. "I do not believe we have been introduced, Lord ...?"
"Whoa," he said, moving closer so that he could help if the mare got spooked. "A little jittery, isn't she?" he asked, offering a somewhat nervous smile himself. "Bradan," he replied. "But you may call me Miles. I am only my father's second son. Hardly a lord."
And I am a commoner's daughter, she thought to herself, but she knew enough not to say it aloud. Not here, in this new land that needed to believe she was a princess. "Lord Bradan," she nodded, absorbing his name as best she could. "You are still of noble blood, that makes you a lord. Though I had thought younger sons were devoted to the Church. What makes you different, I wonder?"
"My father, no doubt. He feels I am worth more to him and to Carib if I remain close to home, rather than be devoted to the Church." He smiled as he lowered his voice, for her ears alone. "To be honest, I threatened to run away from home and never return if I were to suffer such a fate as that. Blasphemous, I know, but second sons tend to be somewhat rebellious." He shrugged and smiled.
Despite herself, Elspeth giggled at the intimation. She had never learned to entirely school herself, and it was unlikely she would now. "I think you would have made a most scandalous priest," she suggested, and a hint of her more worldly side showed itself in her next words. "Though I hear that there are brothels where a great deal of money can be made from the sacrilegious."
"And how would either of us know of such things, my lady?" he asked, a slight smirk on his face. She had a nice smile when she deigned to smile, and a laugh that was soft and feminine without being girlish.
Despite her smile, Elspeth felt the first flare of panic rise in her chest. She didn't know if Henry wanted people here to know they had been raised as commoners, and without knowing it, she didn't dare to share that information. But she had let something slip there that gave a little away. "I ....I know more and less than most ladies you have ever met, I imagine, sir," she said, hoping to cover her slip with some of that charm her family said she possessed in abundance.
He sensed something in her, some brief faltering or uncertainty. While he tucked the information away in the back of his mind, he did not let her know he had noticed, his smile as friendly as before, as if nothing at all had been amiss. "Miles," he corrected once again. "You need not worry in my company, lady. I am only a second son. There is no need to impress me and certainly no need to call me sir."
A part of her wanted to explain that calling him sir came far more easily to her than his name; that a part of her still considered herself far beneath the exalted circles she now moved in. But she didn't dare, offering a soft smile instead. "Thank you, s- ....Miles." A little at a loss for what more she could say, but liking the company that had been offered after several days of riding in near silence, she cast around for some other topic to touch on. "You say you are a baron's son," she said thoughtfully, "yet here you are, riding with horse lords. What brought you down to the south' I was led to believe that the barons viewed the clans with distaste."
His smile broadened when she said his name, pleased he had convinced her of that, at least. She was a princess, and as such, far above his station, but she was also alone and a stranger in a strange land, at least for now, and the least he could do was offer her friendship. It seemed more than anyone else in their entourage was doing, save perhaps the Archon's son. The thought of that made him inwardly wince, knowing he couldn't hope to compete against such a rival. He hoped she thought the frown was only due to her question - one that was somewhat difficult to answer. He shrugged mildly. "My father is not of the same mind as the other barons. He believes in a unified Carib. We are stronger together than apart, after all, and if we wish to stand up to our enemies, than we must stand together as one people - horselord, baron, and commoner alike."