It was a balmy summer evening, and it was quiet in the Frisky Goat Inn. The inn was the only watering hole in the small town of Potter’s Hollow. They had heard from travellers that their kingdom was at war, but aside from the initial stir of worry and excitement when they first heard the news, life carried on as usual. The talk of the town swiftly moved from war to the harvest. Even now, in the evening hours, men were hard at work in the fields. A kingdom at war still had to eat.

Timothy Weaver jumped to his feet as the bell that hung over the inn’s door tinkled, announcing the arrival of guests. He looked up as a pair of hooded figures, a man and a woman came walking in. Both wore finely stitched cloaks. The woman’s was green, while the man’s was black and lined with gold thread. Both wore immaculate calfskin riding boots that had barely a fleck of mud on them, and they carried themselves with an air of aloof arrogance.

They were nobles, rich ones at that. Nobles were not unusual callers at the Frisky Goat. The town’s surroundings were idyllic, but it was close to absolutely nothing of note, which made it a popular place for noblemen to spend time with their mistresses, away from prying eyes. However, these were the first they had received since autumn, which Lester Brewer, the master of the Frisky Goat chalked up as being due to the war.

“Do you want a table?” a tall, gangly boy offered as he rushed towards the door. His name was Eric Cooper, and he was Tim’s best friend.

“Eric, come over here. Tim can handle them,” Lester snapped.

“What’s the matter, Mister Brewer?” Eric complained loudly as he approached the bar, recognizing his master’s tone all too well.

“I’ve told you a thousand times to make yourself presentable while at work,” the innkeeper hissed. “You can’t serve these two very respectable people looking like that.”

“Why not?” Eric moaned as he ran a hand through his unruly straw coloured hair.

Tim shot his friend a grin as he approached the newcomers. “Sir, madam, would you like a table?’

The man nodded curtly. He was tall, taller than Eric, who at fifteen was already taller than most of the men in town. Their hoods hid most of their other features, and Tim was careful not to look too closely. He knew he was sure to be grilled by the townspeople, who were always eager for gossip, but it would be bad for business if their identities were revealed.

Tim led the way to a table in a quiet corner of the inn’s common room, not put off at all by the cold attitude of the inn’s newest patrons. Nobles always treated commoners like dirt. It was to be expected. The man’s cloak parted as he sat revealing a sword with an ornate gold hilt, the end of which was fashioned into the shape of a dragon’s head. It wasn’t unusual for a noble to walk around armed, but this sword was probably worth more than the entire town, which meant that their unexpected guests were very rich and powerful indeed.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” he asked.

“Just two ales,” the man answered curtly without looking up. “And two of whatever you are serving for dinner.”

“Very good,” Tim clasped his hands together. “And should I prepare a room?”

The man nodded and Tim took his leave. As he approached the bar, he heard Eric complaining loudly. “One day, I’ll have my own inn and show you how this is done, old man.”

“If you own an inn, it’ll be the filthiest dive this side of the Frigid Sea,” Lester shot back.

“Two ales and two roasts please, Mister Brewer,” Tim said.

“Hey, you owe me half of whatever they tip,” Eric scowled.

It was understood that nobles would tip generously in exchange for discretion around these parts. Lester had been aghast at first when he found out what they were getting up to on his premises, but he couldn’t very well turn them away. Tim and Eric, however, couldn’t care less what they got up to behind closed doors, so long as they were paid handsomely.

“Not on your life,” Tim snorted. “It’s not my fault you look like you just rolled out of bed.”

Before Eric could retort, Tim took the drinks and placed them carefully on the silver serving platter that was one of Lester’s prize possessions and reserved for very special guests. As he walked carefully to their table with as much grace as he could muster, he noted the four other patrons side eyeing the nobles. At least they were being discrete, Tim thought with relief as he set the drinks in front of their distinguished guests. The pair would be the talk of the town come morning.

“Your food will arrive shortly,” he announced before turning to leave.

“Say, boy,” the man barked imperiously, stopping Tim in his tracks.

“Oh you’re being too stuffy, my dear,” there was a hint of laughter in the woman’s voice as she placed a hand on the man’s arm. “What’s your name, young man?”

Tim blinked in surprise before replying. “Timothy, My Lady. Timothy Weaver.”

Tim felt the man bristle irritably and involuntarily took a step back.

“Oh don’t mind him, he’s just tired. We’ve had a long journey,” the lady soothed as she pressed her hooded head against the man’s arm. “We are looking for a man named Horatio Carver. We hear he lives here in town. Have you heard of him?”

Tim blinked and shook his head slowly. “The only Horatio I can think of is Old Mister Thacker…”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

The man suddenly sat bolt upright. “That’s him. Can you take us to him?”

Tim hesitated. Horatio Thacker was a man in his forties who had settled in the town a year or so ago. He always seemed to have war stories to tell and had quickly become popular amongst the town’s boys

“It’s late, darling,” the woman said in a demure voice as she nuzzled her cheek against the man’s arm. “That can wait until morning.”

The man stiffened. “I suppose you have a point…”

Tim’s eyes widened as he placed four silver shillings and a gold sovereign on the table. “The silver is for our meal and lodgings. The gold is for you, in exchange for keeping quiet about our intentions.”

“Thank you, My Lord,” was all Tim could mumble. He scooped the coins up and hurried back to the bar before the man changed his mind.

“Did he just tip you a whole sovereign?” Eric gasped. He had been watching the proceedings like a hawk from the bar.

Tim nodded, feeling faint from the sudden windfall. He held onto the bar to stop himself from falling over and wondered if he should warn Horatio about their interest in him. However, his family could really use the tip money, and their interest in Horatio could be harmless, or even a boon for the old man.

“Well, half of that’s mine!” Eric insisted.

The larger boy reached over to take the gold coin off the silver serving tray, but Tim was quicker and quickly shoved it into his pocket. “No, it isn’t!”

“That’s not fair!” His friend protested.

“Well it is,” Lester said, deciding to mediate. He placed two wooden plates of freshly carved mutton and roasted vegetables onto the serving tray. “Go on, Tim, don’t keep our important guests waiting now.”

Tim rubbed his bleary eyes and yawned as he tried to ignore the sounds of passionate lovemaking coming from upstairs. It was late into the night, and his parents had readily allowed him to stay at the inn overnight when he showed his earnings.

“It’s getting late, and you looked tired,” Eric said as he stifled a yawn. He was seated across the table from Tim in the inn’s common room. “Why don’t you go home, and I can keep an eye on things here.”

Tim gave him a blank look. The taller boy had gone home earlier and returned with a freshly scrubbed face and combed hair.

“They’re not going to need anything until morning with the way they’re going at it,” Eric pointed out.

“I’m willing to take that chance,” Tim replied flatly.

Eric pouted. “You already got your tip. I think it’s only fair that I get a chance as well.”

Tim shrugged. “We’ll see about that.”

They both sprang to their feet when they heard a door open upstairs. Moments later, the man’s voice called. “We need fresh sheets.”

“Coming!” the boys sang in unison.

“I’ll do it,” Eric growled. “It’s my turn.”

“You wish,” Tim retorted as he rushed to the kitchen where the linens were stored.

When he retrieved them, he found Eric blocking the way back out into the common room. “Come on,” he pleaded. “Let’s go up together and split the tip.”

“Fine,” Tim relented. Eric was the fifth of nine children, and his family badly needed the money. The Weavers weren’t particularly well off either, but Tim had already collected a gold sovereign.

Eric beamed and snatched the sheets out of Tim’s arms and bolted out into the common room. Tim was hot on his heels.

“Oi, what do you think you’re doing?” he panted as they charged up the stairs that lead to the guests’ rooms on the upper floor.

“Keep it down, boys,” Lester growled as he opened the door to his room on the upper floor. “And ask them to do the same.”

Eric paused and raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Do you really want us to do that? They look important.”

The innkeeper sighed and shook his head. “No, you’d better not. The missus and I will just have to endure for the rest of the night.”

Eric grinned and the boys continued down the hallway until they reached the room at the end. Eric took a moment to make sure that he was presentable, and Tim took the opportunity to knock on the door.

“Oi,” Eric hissed.

The door opened a moment to reveal a half dressed man in his early twenties. He was muscular and good looking with short blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. Tim also caught a glimpse of a pale, red haired young woman who was lying under the sheets of the room’s four post bed. Tim then saw the man’s sword on the dresser, half out of its scabbard, revealing a blade that was made of a strange green, almost glass like metal. Even their remote town had heard about last year’s royal wedding, between the Crown Prince of Carthus, who had been entrusted with Emerald Flame, the legendary green bladed sword, and Emily Soren, the beautiful red haired daughter of the mighty House Soren.

Tim gasped and fell to his knees. “Prince Arthur, you honour us with your presence.”

Eric looked at his friend as though he had grown an extra head. “What are you doing, Tim?”

“Oh Three above,” Arthur Dragos sighed.

With surprising strength, the man grabbed both boys by the arm and hauled them into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. He towered over the boys menacingly, and Tim was sure that they were about to have their throats slit.

“No one can know that we are here,” he growled. “Now then, how do I ensure your silence?”

The blood drained from Tim’s face, and tears began to roll down his cheeks. “My Lord please, we…”

“My husband means to buy your silence, not end your lives,” the woman laughed from the bed.

Tim’s eyes went to her, but his view was blocked by the prince, who swiftly placed himself between the bed and the boys.

“If I catch either of you looking at my wife, I’ll gouge your eyes out,” he warned.

“Sorry,” the boys muttered in unison.

Arthur turned to the bed and sighed. “Do you have any idea how to handle this, Emily?”

“We could have them bring us to Lord Carver in the morning,” she offered. “That should ensure their silence for as long as it matters.”

Eric looked at the prince blankly. “Who is Lord Carver?”

“I think they mean Old Horatio,” Tim whispered.

Eric raised an eyebrow as he turned to face Tim. “Old Horatio is a lord?”

Tim shrugged. “He doesn’t look like one.”

Arthur cleared his throat, and both boys looked at him. “Are those terms acceptable?”

“Yes, My Lord,” the boys sang.

“They’ll have to spend the night here,” Arthur frowned as he turned back to the bed. “We can’t risk them running off and flapping their gums.”

“But we have to tell our parents,” Eric protested.

“The master can inform them,” Arthur snapped.

“They won’t be spending the night here in this room, will they?” Emily ventured. There was a sultry undertone to her voice that made Tim’s manhood stir.

Arthur became visibly flustered and he turned to the boys. “Listen you two. We depart at dawn. Bring us to Lord Carver and there are two sovereigns in it for each of you.”

The boys’ jaws dropped as they looked at one another in shock. That would solve almost all of their respective households’ money problems for at least a year.

“However,” Arthur continued. “If you leave the inn before then, the deal is off.”

“We won’t leave the inn until you tell us to,” Tim said quickly.

“I solemnly swear, with the Three as my witness,” Eric added.

Arthur nodded curtly. “Good, now leave us. I will summon you when you are needed.”

Before the boys could think of a polite way to excuse themselves, the prince grabbed them by the arm and shoved them out of the room before slamming the door in their bewildered faces. Tim and Eric exchanged looks before walking down the hallway.

“What do they want with old Horatio?” Eric asked softly.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Tim replied.

“Should we warn him?”

Tim looked back and shook his head slowly. “I don’t think Old Horatio’s in any trouble. Besides, if we warn him, we’d be out two soveriegns each.”