Nanotechnology: The Last Prince Of Wales

As the first light of dawn broke over the camp, the men stirred from their rest, preparing for the long journey ahead to Bala. The crisp air was filled with the sounds of hooves and the rustling of leather as the men packed their things. Gruffudd, who had risen early, approached Ethan as he adjusted his gear.

"Slept well, brother?" Gruffudd asked, his voice low but filled with the weight of their coming days. "We have a long journey ahead of us."

Ethan, adjusting the straps of his cloak, was about to reply when Callwen, the former bandit now sworn to Ethan's service, emerged from the shadows of his tent. Callwen moved swiftly, preparing Ethan's things.

Gruffudd's brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Callwen. "Who's this bugger?" he muttered under his breath, his gaze flicking between Ethan and the new servant.

"This is my servant," Ethan replied, his voice calm but firm.

Gruffudd's eyes widened in surprise. "You brought a servant?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. "And yet, I'm only seeing him now?"

Callwen, hearing the call, approached. "Did you call for me? " he asked, his head raised slightly.

Gruffudd looked him up and down before turning back to Ethan. "Is he the one who got that kitchen girl pregnant? Yes without manners." Gruffudd asked with a raised eyebrow.

Callwen's eyes flickered toward Ethan, who shrugged.

Gruffudd burst into a hearty laugh. "Still ashamed eh?" he said, shaking his head as he clapped Ethan on the back. "Well, it seems like he can teach you a thing or two about women."

Ethan's smile was faint, almost imperceptible. "He sure will," he said, gesturing to Callwen.

Callwen, catching the meaning of the words, bowed his head again. "My liege," he said quietly, though there was a hint of understanding in his voice. "I wonder why he spoke to you so casually, does he not know the power you hold."

Ethan's smile deepened. "Not many people know what you know about me," he replied. "But this is a secret, Callwen."

Callwen nodded, a quiet understanding settling between them. He had once been a lowly bandit, and now he was in the service of someone who was beginning to feel far more powerful, far more dangerous than anyone he had ever met.

"Life is indeed unpredictable," Callwen muttered softly to himself. "Mother was right….there are devils afterall."

As they rode on, the landscape slowly shifted before them. They made their way to the shimmering expanse of Llyn Tegid, the large lake nestled amidst the mountains. The weathered boats, coracles, glided across the surface as the people who lived by the lake cast their nets. A sense of quiet tranquility filled the air as the men watched the fishermen at work.

A young girl in one of the boats caught sight of Ethan. Her eyes widened, and she nudged her brother beside her. "Sooo handsome," she whispered, her cheeks flushed.

Her brother snorted. "He's prettier than you," he snorted, eyes narrowing as he glanced at Ethan. "And he's a lord."

The girl pouted, her cheeks puffing in defiance. She looked away, casting a forlorn gaze across the lake. Her disappointment obvious.

The men rode on, their destination drawing nearer. As they approached the gates of Bala, the town revealed itself to be a stronghold of some size, its stone cottages and wooden houses dotting the landscape. The area had been under the control of Owain Glyndŵr, and like some other regions in the north, the trade here was prosperous. People bustled in the streets, a blend of Welsh and English merchants sharing the marketplace.

The men at the gate quickly spotted the banners and hurried to open the gates, their faces filled with recognition. "Lord Waladr," they called, their voices carrying through the town.

A heavyset man with balding hair emerged from the gates to greet them. Waladr, the lord of Bala, wore a proud smile as he approached. Gruffudd dismounted, his face lighting up with laughter.

"Still alive, you tough old goat?" Gruffudd called out, his voice booming as he walked toward Waladr.

Waladr chuckled heartily. "Of course, young lord," he said, slapping Gruffudd on the back. "Come, meet my new wife!"

Gruffudd raised an eyebrow at the mention of Waladr's new wife. As they approached, a woman stood beside Waladr, her arms wrapped around a small boy who hid shyly behind her skirts. Gruffudd's eyes widened in surprise, an english wife and racoon.

"A son?" Gruffudd exclaimed, his tone playful but warm. "How wonderful! Come here, boy!" He gestured toward the boy, who was still reluctant, peeking out from behind his mother.

The boy hesitated, but at Waladr's urging, he stepped forward. "What's your name, lad?" Gruffudd asked with a friendly grin.

"David," the boy replied shyly, his voice barely a whisper.

Gruffudd ruffled the boy's hair, his face full of affection. "David, eh? A fine name," he said. "You're lucky to have such a father."

The two men shared a brief laugh, but Gruffudd's gaze then shifted to Ethan, who had dismounted his horse behind them.

"This is my brother, Ieuan," Gruffudd said, gesturing toward Ethan with a nod. Waladr studied Ethan for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly.

There was a brief silence before Waladr turned to his men. "Prepare food and ale for my guests," he ordered, his voice gruff but welcoming.

As the bustle of preparation began, Gruffudd leaned closer to his men, his voice dropping low. "Keep an eye on him," he muttered, eyeing Waladr with suspicion. "I don't trust that English fuck."

Waladr, much like his father, had grown up torn between conflicting loyalties. He had been raised in the shadow of Welsh tradition, but he had also spent time at the English courts. His upbringing had given him a unique position—a man caught between two worlds, trying to balance them as best he could.