The bastard saddle

The stench of the horses was strong-Mircea teetered on her horse's stable as she tried and failed to attune to the horse's speed. They had to hit the border by dusk-Athos had taken it upon himself to hightail their journey. 

Mircea had no problem with it except her horse's saddle's ropes were loosened and it was getting hard to get a grip. To stop now would be foolish, she pondered. Suddenly a band of bright rays blasted through the canopy making Mircea flinch. It was mid-morning and the lofty trees casted a dark shadow making it seem otherwise. The forest rarely opened up a few holes to let the sunlight pass. 

The forest of the south was denser than the white northern lands-the rains in this area were heavier than people of Slyve had ever seen. The soil was rich and fertile-one of the reasons why humans were so ahead of time. 

Mircea's velvet red shimmery cloak was flapping against the warm wind. She was sporting a flowy tunic with leather pants. The tunic matched her cloak-it was made of soft layers of silk, chiffon and velvet. Her pale skin stood out-dark hair were tied low in a bun to support her blood red crown of rubies. The pin that held her hair bun was a poisonous needle point blade, she was wearing six knives on her with her sword hung tight and low on her waist. 

Athos had suggested they should wear the obscured cloaks that Urban had helped them with while riding, howbiet, Mircea had told him they wouldn't be needing it until King Kirill tried to kill them. Werewolves had a defined nose they would smell majick on the cloaks from a mile. And if they were to wear it beforehand it would give them a different message. 

Mircea did not want that to happen. 

"Do you want to stop for breakfast, your majesty?" Athos howled over not looking back at Mircea. She couldn't grasp how fast he went from a nickname to your majesty. According to the laws no one except for the king was allowed to call the queen by her name. Calling the queen's name was a huge disrespect. 

Mircea didn't care about that, it meant nothing. Even so no one called her by her name except for Athos, Urban and Lilith. She never imagined she would be promoted from your highness to your majesty. But here she was. 

"We'd rather not waste our time by eating twice. Let's stop for lunch." Mircea replied, matching his speed. Athos simply nodded and surveyed the commanders who accompanied them.

Mircea herself decided to glance at six high commanders that were chaperoning along with her and Athos. They were ordered by Carsten to guard Mircea and Mircea only. All six of them. Normally in the palace Mircea would have two personal and two general body-guards but today she had seven including Athos. 

It was rather unreal and very much unnecessary. 

Carsten had told her these commanders were simultaneously going to be her personal and general body-gaurds once she returned to the palace. She had made sure to learn their names and faces so she could recognize them anywhere. Knox and Unix were blond brothers who had joined the front army at a young age and earned high posts together. Alejandro must be at least forty and half decade old. He seemed rougher than any other commander because of the scar that ran down the side of his throat. When Mircea first noticed it she tried to not make her curiosity about the scar obvious. 

To her scars were a mark of bravery-they meant life was sinister and real. She had earned one on her lower left leg while battling with a soldier from the front army. Rocco kicked his horse sprinting through the fallen branches. He was very quiet for a commander. Tailing them Javier and Mikel were chatting about how the forest here was different from that at the front army base which was situated on the shores of the East Sea. 

The front army base was isolated from the kingdom. It was said to be the perfect place where the jungle and the sea met. Mircea had never been there but she had heard stories about it. It was said the army base had the best sunrise-the first rays of sun were seen from the mountain top. 

The horses screeched before stopping abruptly-there was a high steep ahead of them. Mircea glanced at Athos-he was already rattling along without a second thought. "Do not make the mistake of racing-take your horses slowly. The soil is wet from the rain." He stated, lessening his speed. 

Mircea patted her horse, Athena, on the side of her neck as they moved forward. 

***

The ride was quite bumpy as they proceeded further-the sun was gathering orange dusk in the nearly dark sky. Athos had declared a while ago that they were close to the border. However they hadn't seen anyone on the border control. Mircea was beginning to doubt Athos' sense of direction. 

Her mind was tired and drifting off to the euphonious memories of yester-day night. She had let Urban hold and kiss her against her better judgement. 

He didn't kiss her on the lips but as they sat into each other's arms the whole night had been more than intimate for Mircea. She had never fanthomed she would receive an affection like that. Mircea realised Urban was more than a breath of fresh air. He was her new favorite hideout. 

Mircea knew her marvellous adventures would have their consequences and she didn't yet know if Urban was worth it, but she knew one thing-Urban helped calm her whirl-pool of emotions. If he was by her side like this it would be easy to handle matters of her kingdom. However even the blind could see that wasn't going to be the case. All of it was temporary. Urban had agreed to it. She had agreed to it. 

If the council got a hint of what was going between Urban and her-they would give orders to assassinate him overnight. Mircea dwelled on the thought yester-day night as she layed in his arms staring at the starry night. 

How much would it hurt when it ends? 

What will they do to Urban?

"Mir...Your Majesty! Our border patrol." Athos squinted his eyes through the little light that had managed to escape the canopy. The sun had vanished leaving behind a little residue of orange pink hues that stretched over the sky. 

Mircea saw a flock of men who had donned the same uniform and were marching in their direction. They pulled up-Athos and Alejandro jumped off their horses to greet the soldiers. Mircea remained perched up on her horse scanning her surroundings. 

Even with the night approaching them fast the temperature was warm. Her cloak seemed rather hot and heavy-her legs had gone numb because of the loose saddle. Mircea wanted to simply go to sleep even if it meant sleeping on a log. Saints knew how long their capitol was from the border. 

Mircea glanced at the soldiers who bowed deeply at her. Perhaps they would know how long Cetus' capitol was from the border. She decided to voice out her query, "Do you perhaps know how long it will take to travel from their border to their capitol?" There was no sign of fatigue in her tone.

"We are sincerely sorry, your majesty, but we do not know that. Cetus is a private kingdom." One of them replied. Mircea simply nodded at him, understanding. 

Yes, indeed Cetus was a private kingdom. In Fact they were so private that Mircea did not know her kingdom had an alliance with them. She gulped her scoff and gazed at Athos indicating they should proceed further. 

Athos nodded at her, bidding goodbye to the soldiers. Before they sprinted ahead the soldiers assured Mircea that their border was minutes away. Mircea hoped that was the case, else she had decided they were going to camp here. 

Mircea could bear gashes from a sword but she won't bear anymore rashes from this unstable stable. Saints knew how she carried on riding on this lame excuse of a saddle. 

"I can see their soldiers." Rocco bellowed from the forefront. Mircea's face visibly brightened at his sentence. She had prayed to the saints that the werewolves would decide to camp here and not risk riding at night. She anticipated that the saints would listen to her prayers. 

"Let's cross the border then, shall we." Mircea called out to no one in particular. She sprinted ahead with her horse-everyone following her suit. 

Mircea noticed that the small army King Kirill was talking about in his letter was not so small. Gigantic half naked men were moving around before they paused what they were doing and glanced at her. Everyone had stopped doing their work and their attention was solely on her figure. 

Looking at them, their number which was defined as small and the expanse of their bodies, told Mircea however advanced their ammunition was-it was never going to compare against the raw lethal power of these half animals.