Keeping one eye on the stark forest a bowshot from the road (at least the staff had not been remiss about keeping the trees cut back to prevent easy ambush), Wulf  organised his thoughts.  It would not do to offer his lord a confused or incomplete briefing.  ‘Well, sir, the Prince is of course a mortal man, some twenty-five years old.  He is very well liked by most of his people, and has many allies in neighbouring territories.  He’s a handsome fellow, and a veteran warrior - served as a mercenary in the east, like many of the locals.  As for his intelligence, that’s debatable.  Some call him naïve,  others say stupid.  I don’t know for sure, but word has it that it’s his wife, Princess Olya, who does the thinking, and she’s smart enough for two.  Lucky for Mikhail, or his younger brother Pavel would have usurped him.  He tried it a couple of years back, stirred up some of the boyars and hired in mercenaries,  but he couldn’t afford enough to finish the job and Mikhail’s allies sent him more troops than he needed.  Pavel was forced to sue for peace and they swore an oath at the cathedral in Kiev never to raise hand against each other again.  Mikhail believes it, but - well, our man Torsten can tell you about that.’<br/><br/>He paused, scanning the black ranks of pine and birch as they trotted on.  He could feel eyes on them from among the branches, but out here that could be anything; ordinary animals, or those that walked on two feet, witches or spirits of the wood.  Best to keep moving, but stay alert.  ‘The prince knows nothing about the hidden ones, of course, but his court is thoroughly infiltrated by agents of the kindred prince.  We’ll stop at Torsten’s first so he can fill you in on that and introduce you to Danilko.  That’s our other agent in chief.  He can tell you more about the court and who to be careful of. ‘<br/>