Prince Saryn Skor, eldest son of the Mizizian emperor, looked out at the cheering crowd and soaked up the applause. This was to be his first diplomatic mission, a journey across the mountains to negotiate with the rich nation of Collara, accompanied by a royal entourage of six others his father had specifically chosen. His bodyguard, Kinnegan Tantos, stood next to the supply wagon on his big gray horse. Saryn smiled at him--this mission was going to be easy, and perhaps even fun once he experienced Collaran hospitality. He was a prince, and everyone regarded him with love and devotion, right? "Boy!" he shouted to the scout who would guide the journey. "When do we go?"

Evas Bris, the scout, shook his head--perhaps Saryn was a prince, but the age difference was not great enough for him to be calling Evas "boy." Really, the scout considered himself the most important member of the mission, as it was his expert guidance that would take Saryn and the others into the Stoneridge. The party would never survive without his help: three haughty nobles, a quack doctor, a writer, and a barbarian horselord. Well, maybe Lord Tantos would survive, revised Evas, noting the bodyguard's broad frame. "We go when the chronicler arrives," he told the prince carefully. "She's coming soon from her business in the palace."

Francho Coeuran, lord of the Duchy of Palak, watched the crowd with a mixture of apprehension and pride. He saw very few Palakkans in the crowd, which only served to make him stand taller. When this expedition succeeded, and he came back a hero, he would bring his duchy glory. Perhaps even the glory it needed to separate permanently from the rule of the emperor and his foolish sons, something he'd petitioned for many times but never obtained. Compared to the battles and wars he'd fought in, surviving a few months with Saryn and his pompous sense of self would be easy. He rolled his eyes as Saryn blew a kiss to a girl in the crowd, who squealed. "Good-for-nothing showboater," he muttered under his breath.

Igo Pazzom, the medic, scoffed at that. Lord Coeuran probably thought he couldn't hear what he muttered, but the words rang true: Saryn was snobbish, flighty, and conceited. Last time he was in the palace, almost two decades ago when he cured the emperor's wasting disease with a simple lime tonic, the prince had treated him like dirt. Asking him pointed questions, leaving spoiled food all over the living quarters for the servants to clean up, reveling late into the night while he tried to sleep. Made Igo feel less bad about swindling his father for thousands of gold pieces. It wasn't exactly his choice to be serving a spoiled royal again, but then again, couldn't exactly refuse a direct order.

Charla Ilvi, a court lady, looked down from her place at Saryn's side and tried not to think about how far away from court she was about to be. Thanks to the prince's protection, she had never left the capital city in all her eighteen years, but she felt certain she could prove herself in the wilds of the Stoneridge and the golden halls of Collara. And a few months away from the other ladies' constant disapproval couldn't hurt, either. Did they know the extent of her relationship with the royal family? Did the emperor know? Surely not. He'd kill her if he did.

For his part, Lord Kinnegan Tantos stood still as a statue on his horse's back. His oath was to protect Prince Saryn, and that was the duty he intended to carry out, with no complications about it. He came from the horselords of the plains, a simple and brutal people with no law but strength and fealty to the Mizizian court. Kinnegan himself carried no weapon. There were ways to be strong without resorting to violence. A movement in the crowd caught his eye: a woman wearing a green tunic, carrying a huge leather bag of scrolls, rushing as quickly as she could toward the royal wagon. "My liege," he told Saryn, "Chronicler Soll approaches."

Viri Soll, the expedition's chronicler, pushed through commoners in a single-minded focus to get to the wagon. This expedition seemed to her like something out of an old fairy tale: being called to aid the crown prince himself on a mission across the mountains, with such motley companions. Charla and Francho were known to her as fine people, and the scout and the doctor were unknown. Lord Tantos was a fascinating mystery, and Prince Saryn... well, she'd written some not-so-flattering things about his drinking habits in the past, but she was willing to put those old assessments aside for the sake of the story. By sky's grace, the chronicle of this expedition was going to be her greatest work.

Saryn surveyed his companions. Saryn's Seven. It had a nice ring to it. "My loyal and adoring followers!" he shouted over the crowd noise. "We ride for Collara and glory!"