Free From the Wood, Yet Slave to the Heart

Colin paced in the entrance hall, waiting for his advisors to hurry up and make a decision. Would they let him go, or not?

He’d decided long before that even if they said he shouldn’t go, he would anyway. Nothing was going to stop him from trying to take care of all his people, his kingdom, not even an army of minotaurs and wargs.

“Your Majesty,” a little man came out from the conference room of Colin’s advisors. “They have reached their decision.”

Colin merely nodded and entered the room, stony faced and silent. He knew he looked cold and cruel, but he didn’t care at the time. He needed to be that way in the fight he knew was coming. Colin stepped to the center of the room, not bothering to sit in a chair, but chose to stand. He looked around, meeting the eyes of most of the advisors, and the eyes he didn’t meet turned down or avoided his piercing gaze.

“We have reached our verdict, Sire,” the head advisor said, looking down upon Colin with distaste. He’d never liked the young King, but Colin never let that get to him. He was sure there were plenty of people who didn’t like him - every king or ruler had to deal with that.

“Yes,” Colin said, “and I’d very much like to hear it.”

There was a noise of indignation from a few of the elderly, disapproving advisors, but the others looked at those who were indignant with disdain.

“We have decided that, if you so wish it, you should fight for your people. You will have an extra guard to protect you from harm. If we are victorious, you, as the king, will be viewed as a valiant leader in the eyes of many and none should oppose you.”

“When,” Colin said firmly. The man looked at him in confusion, and he elaborated, “when we are victorious. Not if.”

“When,” a different advisor, a middle-aged man, said in agreement. He was one of Colin’s supporters in the council of advisors. It was probably partially his influence that allowed Colin to participate in the battle, in the council’s eyes. He would have fought anyway, even if the council had advised him not to. After all, all they were meant to be were advisors, and just because they give him advice doesn’t mean he has to follow it.

“I will finish preparing for battle,” Colin said firmly, turning to stride from the room. “But I do not need the extra guard you are planning. My normal guard will be more than enough…I trust them all with my very life.”

With those final words echoing in the council’s chamber, the king strode from the room, adjusting his armor and heading to where a serving man already had the rest of his battle gear ready and waiting by his steed.

The large stallion was sleek and grey, with all the royal tassels and such already adorning him. Colin rolled his eyes at the traditions that made him more susceptible to being targeted by the enemy, but he mounted in one smooth motion anyway. The man beside Beelzebub, the stallion, handed up Colin’s sword, which he belted onto his sword belt. He’d already had the sword there earlier, but he’d been forced to take it off to speak with the council. The elders of the council were a bunch of fidgety old codgers, in his opinion, but he couldn’t very well tell anyone as much. It would be rather disrespectful, and Colin didn’t really want that kind of reputation under his belt right now - not when he was under so much pressure as it was.

“My helmet?” Colin asked of the man, who handed it up. Colin didn’t put it on just yet, electing to hang it temporarily from the saddle horn until he needed to use it. “My daggers.” Colin asked for next, fixing one in his boot, and two at his belt. The dagger in his boot was the elfin dagger left behind by Raya and Lilith in the dead minotaur.

“Thank you.” Colin said, nodding his head to the man.

“It is always an honor to serve you, Sire,” the man said in return, taking his cue to leave and prepare for battle himself.

Colin shook his head at the retreating man, wondering who decided he was supposed to be born as the eldest royal heir. He wasn’t a leader - well, not one as good as his father. He wanted to be able to be that man, trusted with the safety of his people and never doubted…but he didn’t know how it could be done. Especially not without the helping hand of the woman he’d spent months searching for. In the Royal Forest, it was Raya’s appearance, and nudges, and persistence that helped them get out. Nothing he did was of much use, and he wanted to redeem himself.

If dying in battle was the way to do this, he would do so.

It shouldn’t come to that, he knew, but if it must…then what was needed would be done. That was that.

“Sire, the men are ready for your orders,” an officer came over, saluting Colin dutifully.

“My orders?” Colin asked the man, then told him, “My orders are to take me to them, and then we wait for Captain Ysid and allow me a few moments to discuss strategy with he and Aunt Tessalyn, who I wager will be with him when he arrives. It is with her that he is discussing strategy as we speak.”

The man looked taken aback, but saluted again and said, “Right this way, Your Majesty.”