Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

cautious one, Rupert.'
    'I've been given enough cause.'
    The King looked away, unable to meet Rupert's steady gaze. His horse fidgeted uneasily as the King's hands played aimlessly with the reins.
    'Rupert ...'
    'Father.'
    'How long now, before we go out?'
    'A few minutes, at most.'
    'Do you hate me, son?'
    The sudden question caught Rupert off guard, and he stumbled over his reply. 'Sometimes, I suppose.
    You've given me damn all reason to love you, but . . . you're the King, and the Land must come first. I've always known that.'
    'Politics,' sighed the King. 'It all seems so petty now, set against the long night waiting outside our walls.
    I've always done my best for the Land, done what I believed was right, even when it cost me the things I treasured most, but none of the things I fought for seem to matter much any more. Rupert, you're my son, my blood and kin, and I want you to know that I'm proud of you. Despite . . . many things, you have always been true to the Land, and your duty.'
    'Why wait till now to tell me?' said Rupert. 'Why not tell me when it mattered, just once, in front of the Court!'
    'And make you even more of a target for the Court intrigues?' said the King softly. 'I kept you isolated from the throne and the Barons so that Harald's supporters wouldn't see you as a threat. Was I really so wrong, to want you alive rather than hanged as a pretender to the throne?'
    'That isn't why you did it,' said Rupert flatly. 'You did it for Harald's sake, not mine.'
    King John nodded quietly. 'I did my best for you,' he said finally. 'What happened to your chain-mail?
    Why aren't you wearing it?'
    'It got in the way. I do better without armour.'
    The King looked unconvinced, but let the matter drop rather than risk breaking the tentative bond between them. 'Watch yourself out there, son. I want you coming back in one piece.'
    'I'll do my best to oblige you,' said Rupert solemnly, and they both chuckled briefly.
    There was a pause, as they looked for something else to say, and found they'd said it all. They never did have much in common, and Rupert knew that he and his father were already beginning to drift apart again.
    'I don't know what everyone's so worried about,' he said finally. 'How can we lose, with the Champion leading us?' He gestured at the Champion, sitting impassively astride his armoured war charger like an ancient heroic statue come to life.
    King John glanced briefly at his Champion, and frowned. 'The Champion isn't necessarily a touchstone for success, Rupert. He's not been defeated in battle since he became my Champion, over twenty years ago, and that makes him dangerous. To us, and to himself.'
    'Dangerous? How?'
    'He's over-confident. By the time he realises he's not invulnerable after all, it might be too late to do him or whoever he's fighting beside any good.'
    Rupert nodded soberly. 'Ill keep an eye on him.'
    'It might be wise.' King John took up his reins and turned his horse away from Rupert. 'And now, I'd better have a word with your brother, while there's still time.'
    'Father,' said Rupert suddenly. 'If you'd thought it necessary, you would have ordered my death, wouldn't you?'
    The King glanced back over his shoulder. 'Damn right I would have,' he said calmly, and then urged his horse on into the packed crowd, heading for where Harald was waiting on his charger. Rupert shook his head slowly, and looked away.
    'So, here we go again, Breeze. Out to face the darkness one more time.'
    'Good,' said the unicorn. 'I'm fed up with all this waiting. Anything would be better than this. Well, almost
    anything.'
    'Yeah. I'm scared, Breeze.'
    'So am I, Rupert.'
    'My guts are churning like you wouldn't believe.'
    'Take it easy. The gates will be opening any minute, and once the fighting starts you won't have time to be scared.'
    'Yeah. Sure. Oh hell, I need to take a leak again.'
    'No you don't.'
    'Look, whose bladder is it?'
    'Stand ready, the gatehouse!' called the Champion, and a sudden hush fell across the army for a moment as everyone realised that the gates were finally about to open. Half a dozen men-at-arms moved into position before the doors, ready to draw back the great steel bolts at the King's command. Rupert slipped his left arm through the straps of his buckler, and tightened them securely. The heavy weight of the shield on his arm was deeply reassuring. He took a firm hold of both reins with his left hand, and then drew his sword. The familiar feel of the swordhilt was a