Ash to Iron

Chapter VII

The two travelers ventured on, now the sun hiding beneath the night, the forest finally halting its growth and opening back to rolling hills.

Yoric struggled to keep up, but remained behind the towering Rodard, his breathing seeming almost effortless.

Stopping, Rodard gasped in the night air, looking up to the sky slightly. The stars were in disarray under a full moon, each individual light giving off its presence to the world. "Over there, under the Hills. Do you see?" asked the prince, pointing.

Yoric nodded as he focused his eyes on the lights while chatter could be heard.

"That is our bed and supper. We won't stay long." The pain and loss still boiled in Rodard, even as he tried to ward it off. I'll avenge you. All of you. I swear. Rodard's loyalty to his men was next to none. His father knew that, and the kingdom knew that. It's what made the King believe in his son's claim to the throne. Rodard was many things, but a coward was not one of them.

The prince scampered down the hill, now treading onto the path before him. His feet hardly made a sound while Yoric's brought on its own army. He felt self-conscious in front of the prince, noticing his own flawed skills.

The Inn was rather large, as horses neighed quietly in the stables. Clangs of glasses, stomps on the floor, and smoke drifted out of the open windows, even a merry song echoed in the dark night.

"In the boozer you're a loser

the dice you're shaking.

You'll get hurt and lose your shirt,

sit there cold and quaking.

Lady Luck, your gifts are muck, you trick us, then you make us buck,

make us gamble, make us fight, and sit out in the cold all night. 'Brrr!' The naked loser moans, when he's cold and left alone, shakes and shivers as he groans He goes to take more loans

and win some drinking money!"

The crowd continued sing as the two walked in, Yoric in front. Nothing altered the drunk men's tune, even as they all cheered, most spilling their drinks while calling for another. The prince ignored the gathering, wishing that he could join their merry songs with his own men. But no longer did he have that luxury. I need to be strong. Rodard thought to himself, an itching in his eyes beginning to manifest itself. He ignored that as well, hardening himself as he had done his entire life. The King's harsh lessons made it easier to do so when he was still training to be a knight himself. He would humiliate him, make him feel weak until he felt strong. Rodard felt little for his father, even less for his approval.

"Follow me." The prince said to Yoric, who had been looking around the Inn as if he had seen joy, despair, and blind fun chase one another around the room. He followed reluctantly, walking near the counter where a barmaid had been sitting.

She was wearing a dress too small for her size, her chest nearly bursting the threads. She looked to be nearly 30, but her voice gave the impression that she may have been younger. Her eyes browsed the prince, smiling before speaking.

"What can I get ya handsome?" She said as seductively as she could, batting her eyes as well. Rodard returned a meek smile.

"I'd like a whole chicken," he said, then looked to Yoric. "Make that two."

The woman nodded, calling back to the kitchen as the prince pulled Yoric over to a small table in the corner of the Inn, hoping to reduce attention. Yoric sat down, awkwardly gazing around to avoid Rodard's glare.

The prince felt the tension between the two but didn't feel in the mood to discuss anything. "Let's get something straight," he began, "You may be the only one left but that does not give you the right to speak to me." Yoric raised an eyebrow. This was the prince? "Let me get something straight with you. I need to see your father. I'll do whatever you ask, I'll shut up for the rest of the journey. But you need to promise me this, at the very least.