The new day brightened cold and grey, as always, but without rain. I took the opportunity to build the fire back up a bit and, once Kaczmarek woke up, root around for edible plants and, well, roots. The river offered a small bounty of fat and juicy waterpans and hen’s-egg bulbs from the sodden banks, at the cost only of most of the feeling in my fingers from the icy mud and washing the loot in the just as icy water.

The cold was easily driven away by the crackling fire, though, and soon the fibrous bulbs were baking in the coals while I spitted the waterpans on pairs of skewers to prop over the fire, while water boiled for tea.

“What’s with all this?” Kaczmarek asked, nodding at the unusual foods. We normally broke our fast with plain bread and cheese or the intolerably heavily cured meats. I shrugged, wincing as the movement caused my skewer to go through the crunchy bladder askew.

“Rough day yesterday, I’d say. And since the opportunity was here, it seemed a shame not to take it. Don’t usually have a campsite this nice.”

“You’re not wrong,” the jäger agreed, dropping onto a rock next to me. Past travellers had gathered a few around the firepit as stools, though they’d been obscured by the ferns as well when we arrived. Picking up another of the waterpans, she deftly punched two skewers through it in quick, even movements. “You’ve got to make a cross shape,” she explained. “Much easier than trying to stick them both through in the same direction.”

I eyed the handful I’d pinned with parallel switches. “Thanks.” I tried it, finding it much easier than trying to get the skewers through far enough apart to not twist without ripping the flesh.

“No problem.” Kaczmarek spitted a few more, before kneeling next to the firepit to prop the pans against each other over the edge of the coals. We worked in silence for a while, listening to the early morning birds singing and the horses, stirred into wakefulness, savaging the local greenery.

“Is he alright?” She asked in a low voice, jerking her head towards the tent where His Highness was – presumably – still asleep. I shrugged again, helplessly this time.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “He slept, I think.” I felt I ought to offer some keen insight or wise reflection, but found myself utterly empty-handed. I shrugged again, instead.

“Mmm.” Kaczmarek poked the bulbs in the ashes with a stick, turning the ovoids to bake evenly. “I’m lousy with children.”

That thoroughly killed the conversation, such as it was, and we sat quietly a little longer. The awkwardness was interrupted by the topic of the discussion emerging from the tent, curly hair a riot and eyes still bleary.

“Good morning, your Highness,” I greeted him. “Breakfast’s just about ready, sir.” I pulled the pot of water off the fire and poured in a measure of loose tea, mixing it about. “What you might call peasant fare, but it makes a change from bread.”

“Good morning Schreiner, Kaczmarek,” he said. “I don’t think I will ever see bread the same way again.” He shuddered, seating himself on a rock as near the fire as he could get, his breath steaming in the air.

I chuckled. “That’s life down here in the rank and file, sir,” I said. “If you ever have the misfortune of leading a campaign you can tell the men you did it in the spring rain without a baggage train.”

Kaczmarek eyed the horses. “What about those, then?”

“Warhorses, jäger, warhorses,” I said, deadpan.

“We pile them with our stuff every day. They’re at least half packhorse.”

I shook my head, scooping tea out of the pot. “If this is the state of our military, I truly fear for the future. Packhorses indeed! Your tea, your Highness,” I added, passing a cup to the prince. “And yours.” Kaczmarek took the cup with one hand and made an offensive gesture with the other.

“What does that gesture mean, jäger?” His Highness asked innocently, struggling to raise the correct combination of fingers. “You seem to use it a lot.”

The jäger and I nearly simultaneously choked on our tea. I recovered first. “It’s not one suited for polite company, your Highness, sir.” Visions of the prince flipping off one of his tutors haunted me for a moment. “It, ah, might be for the best, sir, if you didn’t copy any of Jäger Kaczmarek’s mannerisms without checking first, your Highness.”

Between the familiarity of travelling together, constant slight fatigue, and Kaczmarek’s generally casual disregard for hierarchy, it did occur to me that things may have become too relaxed. I resolved to be more careful in the future.

His Highness shook his head ruefully. “I should have guessed, I suppose. Although, I was wondering, Schreiner: how is it that you are versed in etiquette? And in many other things, for that matter.”

I sighed, aware of Kaczmarek’s gaze on me as well. “It’s a long story, your Highness.” One of the waterpans dripped opportunely, raising a sudden hiss and puff of steam, and I leaned forward to retrieve the skewers. “It seems breakfast is ready. These are truly vile when they get cold, sir, but quite tasty fresh off the fire. Mind you don’t burn your tongue, though, sir.”

Probably more out of politeness or hunger than my own skill, the prince let my deflection slide and accepted a crispy vegetable, blowing on it to cool it. I skewered the hen’s-egg bulbs one at a time with my knife, flipping them out of the fire and splitting them to cool down to an edible temperature. The starchy ovoids held their heat for a long time.

“This is good, truly,” His Highness said in surprise. “I must say I didn’t think it looked like much.”

Kaczmarek nodded, licking the juices off her hand in an uncivilised fashion that would send courtly ladies fleeing. I had no idea how she had downed an entire piping hot roasted bladder so quickly, without visible signs of distress. “Everything’s nicer when you’re hungry, sir,” she said, partially answering my question.

His Highness didn’t answer, being too busy trying to blow air around a too-hot mouthful. The rest of the meal went on in similar fashion until, relieved at having avoided questioning again, I set about clearing away.

My relief was short-lived, however, as when we set out on the road the prince brought the question up again.

“You never did answer how you know so much, gefreiter.”

I pushed my hat down. “I was hoping you’d forget, sir,” I said.

“C’mon, spill,” Kaczmarek chipped in. “Whose bastard are you, then?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Nothing so romantic, jäger.” I shrugged. “I just don’t like telling the story.” I gathered my thoughts for a minute. His Highness and Kaczmarek didn’t interrupt to pester me again, and I had it summarised nicely by the time I had to speak, I thought.

“My father was a successful guild artisan, a cabinet maker to begin with. He took on all kinds of joinery work, later, and it made us quite wealthy. I learned the trade with him for a few years as a boy, while I was learning my numbers and letters, but he and my mother… aspired to higher society, I suppose. I went to a military academy, to become an officer. Of course this was while the war was still going on.

“I was expected to distinguish myself as a sort of better species of officer, you might say. More familiar and respected than a noble with a commission bought out of heritage, but more trustworthy than a man promoted out of the ranks.” I smiled wryly. “I’m not quite sure where they got their confidence, to be quite honest. Not much of a leader, myself, much better when someone tells me what to do.

“Unfortunately, that was when the… mess, with Szekerya and Katresse boiled over, and the guilds got in on it.” I ducked under a low-hanging branch, keeping my eyes fixed forward and my voice level. This was the part I didn’t like to dwell on. “My father was on the wrong side of a dispute somehow – I never did find out what; I was boarding at the academy at the time – and had a falling out with someone influential. The guild quite ruined him.

“Somehow, he didn’t leave any debt, but I found out about the whole business when I received a letter from my mother saying that Father had taken his own life. Of course, there was no money for a commission then, and an officer’s lifestyle is expensive to boot.” I shrugged. “So I finished the year at the academy and enlisted. We didn’t have enough money to continue the business and no-one would give a loan to a family with our history, so it was about the only option left to me. It wasn’t exactly what you might call ‘steady money’ by then, but Mother needed the advance.”

I left it at that. It was years ago, now, but I still didn’t like to think of it. Some things remained raw for a long time. At the time I wanted to visit the Guildmaster with a sabre and demand satisfaction. Now… it was tempered, but part of me wanted to visit the Guildmaster with a scimitar and demand satisfaction. Or raise a band of brigands and ruin the guild like they ruined Father. Ignoble thoughts, to be sure, but ones I could never quite put away. I tried not to dwell on it.

“Huh,” Kaczmarek finally said, the prince still mulling it over. “I really did think you’d be some higborn’s bastard. Higher than a baron but lower than a duke, there-ish. How’d you end up here then?” She abruptly cut from musing out loud to ask.

“In the Mourners?” I barked out a mirthless laugh, startling His Highness and making Munter snort. “I was one of the only ones that lived through the assault that took Heinsburg. It was a funny thing, that. I do believe I earned my position, but not there. I was just lucky enough to be at the back. Fired one volley and barely even drew my sabre.”

“That’s terrible, Schreiner,” His Highness commented at last. For a moment I thought he was referring to my farcical selection, but I realised he must have meant the Guild as soon as he continued. “Can they do that? Surely there must be some recourse?”

I winced, shaking my head again. “No, your Highness, it was all completely ‘above board’. It’s the trouble with merchants, sir. The nobility is beholden to the people, sir, and Her Majesty – long may she reign – is beholden to the Heavens, but the guild is beholden to no-one but themselves and their pockets.” I pulled a face, thinking most of my comrades would probably have spat at that. “They can bury you in a shallow grave, so long as it’s been signed and witnessed, you might say.”

His Highness rubbed at his chin. “That’s awful.” He trailed off.

“Well, that’s how it is down here in the muck, your Highness!” Kaczmarek’s tone was macabrely cheerful. She was grinning slightly too widely. “We all do our best, and sometimes the wheels roll over us, sir, but that’s just the way it is.”

I eyed the jäger suspiciously. “Do you have a tragic past you’d like to share? Since I’ve been made to spill my guts.”

She responded by abruptly raising a hand and reining in her horse, leaning out to the side to peer into the forest. All the cheer had disappeared from her tone when she spoke again in a quiet but firm murmur.

“That’s fresh bear markings there. We’d best be careful or we’ll all be spilling our guts. They’re hungry after the winter.”