Maverick and Julius sat quietly by the campfire, the stars faintly illuminating their surroundings. Wolfgang lay curled up beside Maverick, sleeping deeply, as if even the rough ground offered him some comfort.
Maverick adjusted the blanket over him, then asked, "How old is he?"
Julius looked over at Maverick. "You mean Wolfgang? He's sixteen."
Maverick smiled, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes.
"Sixteen. I was still training under my uncle then, not even dreaming of a mission like this. And here he is, out in unpredictable situations that could turn dangerous at any moment. He must miss home, or he wouldn't have asked when we'll be back."
Julius glanced at the sleeping Wolfgang. "His parents have been gone since he was two. My mother raised him because no one else would. Just because his mother wasn't from an aristocrat family, so the royal wanted nothing to do with him."
