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“C’mon, Bertha, faster!” Wilhelm screamed, spurring his mount. Arrows flew towards Wilhelm and his two cousins, missing their mark by mere inches. He gripped his pollaxe tightly while whispering an incantation to create a small force field to cover his backside. The curse of royal blood had its perks. "Hyah!"

“There’s a forest ahead!” Frederick screamed, “We’ll lose ‘em in there!” Wilhelm’s cousins Frederick and Roger were more like brothers than anything. They had been raised in the same house, been sent to war under the same captain, and watched their family murdered before them by the king’s men. They knew his secret, but could bare him no ill will, for they had all suffered equally from the wrath of the king’s men. They had four sellswords with them when they had walked into town, but two were slaughtered, and the other two turned on them when they learned of the massive bounty placed on Wilhelm’s head. At least they would not have to pay them.

“Aye!” Roger and Wilhelm screamed in unison, splitting up. They were able to lose their pursuers in the woods, then double back and return to a town that they had passed previously. They would need to leave the kingdom, of course; running like this would only lead to an eventual and gruesome end. They had been through this several times before, though, and were able to meet up at the milling town of Westwood. Roger had received a minor scratch from a low-hanging branch, but there were no serious injuries, and Roger already had many scars covering his visage. Of course, he’d received most of these defending his younger cousin and brother.

“Nobody’s died yet,” Frederick stated as they walked their horses to the stable outside the nearest tavern, “So that’s good news.” Ever the optimistic one, he was. These were not the king’s men who were chasing him. They were common mercenaries, looking to make a buck off of his bounty. They did not have the same urgency in their task, and could pursue other targets if they so wished.

As he sat down at a table in the corner, Wilhelm listened intently to the rumours that the peasants were whispering. Supposedly, in this very forest, a group of prominent leaders of the rebellion were going to be holding a meeting to discuss their strategy. He could not go with the king’s men pursuing him, and he did not want to: this could have easily been a trap of sorts. Perhaps the rebels wished to exchange his head for their independence, or use him as a hostage during negotiations, or force him into marriage so that some noble house could claim the throne as their own.

The group rode on towards the Iron Mountain Range to hide among the grand fortresses of House Kardov and Lazarel. They had adopted a policy of neutrality, and Wilhelm hoped that they would not tolerate a manhunt. He was unsure if the guards would recognize him. If they did, they were unlikely to permit entry to a wanted criminal. Detainment was a possibility, and execution another, but their party was running out of options…