“Have you heard? The second prince is coming for the Morning Day!”
The small crowd in front of the vegetable stall gasped. They turned to one another, questions and excitement shining in their eyes.
“What? I heard he hasn’t stepped in the capital since-” They glanced around, then whispered lowly. “You know what…”
“Tragic what happened to the former queen,” sighed another.
"They always did say power corrupts," sighed the vegetable vendor. "I guess she couldn't accept her husband sleeping with another woman. And so publicly too!”
"Well, I would kick my husband out of the house if he dared!" said a burly woman. She was just as tall as a man and looked like she could actually catapult a grown person if she so desired. The men shivered.
Meanwhile, the vegetable stall owner nodded politely while discreetly shoving more produce into the woman's basket.
Despite the lull in conversation, low murmurs of agreement filled the air. To take multiple wives was a practice of the barbarians! However, that didn't stop King Arganus from breaking tradition to do the same. It was said the king was so beguiled by his paramour that he made her a consort, (and after the death of his first wife) the queen! They shook their heads. If the king wished to do something, who was anyone to stop him?
“What a pity." The former queen had bore two sons. Her children were to be kings and princes! "Now, one is in exile, and the other lives as a lord in the borderlands!"
"And I must say…” An auntie shook her head. With many available granddaughters, she bemoaned the waste of such handsome and talented young men. "To send a prince to govern the borderlands? What a shame!”
"Well, you can't blame Queen Rewanna for that." The vegetable stall vendor leaned forward. He whispered dramatically despite the fact that his words were common knowledge. "It's said he went willingly! In fact, he even begged to go!"
The crowd scratched their heads in bewilderment. No one in the capital would want to go to the borderlands, never mind ask to go! Had the young prince been dropped on the head as a babe? Who would beg to go to the land of nothingness?
In Feldgrau, the people lived as if any day could be their last. It was a land haunted by death and fear. They suffered numerous attacks from the grassland tribes. Rumors had it that the surrounding villages and towns by Feldgrau were looted and pillaged every other month. The crowd shivered. What a dreadful existence.
It was much nicer to turn their thoughts back to the ice prince. That was the moniker the young man's beautiful but inexpressive face and distanced personality had earned him.
“I'm afraid he's pretty, but not much in terms of intellect,” offered the vegetable vendor. "Still better than any of the other scoundrels trying to chase my daughters. Those idiots are stupid and ugly!"
"Are you calling my son ugly?" squaked a woman but she was readily ignored.
If there was one thing that was agreed upon, it was that the ice prince had a face gifted by the gods. Even though he had not been seen in the capital for years, rumors had drifted thatNot that is was surprising. The former queen was a beautiful woman, and the king himself did not lack his fair share of admirers.
"But! I heard in ice prince's youth, he was quite the genius!" interjected another. "The prince could out speak all the scholars and passed the court exam at fourteen! How could such a man be a fool?"
Those who could remember knew the words to be true. The second prince's hidden genius had been exciting rumors that accompanied talks of the royal brothers and their stepmother's growing rivalry. The crowd shrugged. But it had been many years since then. Parents had died and children were born and grown. Who could say what was true and what was merely exaggerated facts?
“They say when he and the king had the dispute, the prince renounced his claim to the throne. His Highness left the next day!" It was news many found hard to believe until they saw the prince and his retinue with their own eyes. The entourage was small but swift as they rode away for the borderlands.
"Even smart men can fall to grief and anger." The vendor shrugged. "Now, he’s the proper Lord of Feldgrau. Who knows what he's been doing there?”
"Perhaps it was a strategic move," murmured a well-dressed salt merchant. She rubbed her chin thoughtfully and her ancient eyes gleamed. The older woman had traveled most of the lands in the kingdom. She noted, “Feldgrau may be near the borderlands but its soil is rich and lands wide. If you count the small towns beside it, Feldgrau is nearly double the size of the capital. Besides, without the Great Wall of Feldgrau, there would be no difference between us and the barbarians!”
The others turned thoughtful as well. A secretly smart prince was much more intriguing than an openly foolish one.
“Well, Feldgrau was his mother’s homeland,” considered the burly woman. "Perhaps her death also made him reminisce. I hear the former queen still has kin in those lands."
The crowd nodded along. A dutiful son was even more endearing than a secretly smart one! A grieving son and an ancestral homeland. The story was finally coming together.
"Still, if he wanted the power, why would he renounce the throne? Leave all this glory to his younger brother?" The peasant crossed their arms. "I think the prince is a young fool, just like everyone says." They stuck out an accusing finger. "You people always add drama where there is none!"
"So what if he's a fool?" Some of the single women in the crowd giggled, shooting each other knowing looks. "The ice prince is a gorgeous one if the rumors are to be believed. The face of marble and fresh snow! It's said you could drown in his blue eyes!" They swooned at the fantasy.
"You're all fools!" snapped one of the girl's fiance. "He's probably an ugly brute."
A group of young ladies, proper and prim, suddenly barged into the conversation. Their hair was done in intricate updos as flowers and ribbons adorned it. The expensive silk they wore denoted that they were at least high-ranking servants or ladies in waiting for noble families.
“What foolish nonsense are you spewing! The ice prince is a better man than any of you!” The girls ignored the unlady-likeness of their actions, elbowing their way into the crowd. They were His Highness’ greatest fans! They were duty-bound to defend their prince... even if they had never met him before! “He only took the seat of Feldgrau to defend us from the barbarian tribes! It was an honorable act to guard his people when no one else would!”
“What a hero!” swooned the other girls once more.
One of them, with wide eyes like an innocent baby deer, batted her eyelashes and tilted her head. “Wait," her dainty brows furrowed. "But I thought the tribes were our allies? Why would he need to guard us against them?”
“We're only allied with the Wenge’s, foolish child! And even they're more savage than decent neighbors.” A hand swatted out to slap the foolish words. “A generation has barely passed since we’ve been enemies! Don’t go trusting barbarians so blindly, girl! They’ll murder you in your sleep if they get the chance!”
“Yeah, yeah!” The girls rolled their eyes. “Now, how much for those carrots and leeks? My mistress is expecting her favorite meal for the celebrations!”
"Ooh, is that a ribbon decoration? I'll take two!" Grabby hands began to compare the different patterned cloths.
Chatter and clamor on prices filled the air once more. But the mysterious return of the ice prince was a common topic all around the marketplace.
Although none voiced it, they wondered what great drama would follow the prodigal son’s homecoming.
—
The streets of the bustling square teemed with conversation. Bright banners were brought out to be hung. The maids and cooks rushed to the different stalls to buy supplies and foodstuff for the families they served. The smart ones took the leftover coin and bought extra ingredients for celebration with their own families.
Children ran around. Bright ribbons were tied to their hair. The ribbons danced in the wind, flowing behind them as they played. They shook their little wrists, fawning over the jingle of copper coins tied on strings. It was said that a strip of cloth from a mother’s dress and a coin from a father’s pocket made for a happy and healthy child. The tradition was an old one and practiced by the entire kingdom.
After the Great War had ended on Morning Day, the tradition was renewed with vigor. Even the noble children would wear copper coins around their wrists and tie bright ribbons in their hair.
Couples would wear one another’s ribbons and copper for celebrations. Marriage ceremonies would tie the ribbons and coins together as a symbol to be preserved. THey would only be burnt and destroyed if death took one before the other.
In the distance, the grand castle of the Eburean kingdom loomed over its inhabitants protectively. The stones of the capital were ancient and sturdy. The giant flags of the royal family waved proudly in the air.
The Morning Day was the first celebration of the year, a glimmer of hope and warmth after the cold winter. It was a time of renewal and life. Some even claimed it was a season of new beginnings. Many romantic couples took this as a sign to start preparing for marriage.
Nobles and commoners alike flocked to the capital for the celebrations. Every Morning Day the royal family would throw an annual banquet. It was a prominent political event that nobles across the kingdom were obliged to attend.
One such group rode towards the castle.
A carriage, ornate and surrounded by four guards, dragged along the cobblestone path. The tall men wore the thicker garments belonging to the borderlands. Onlookers marveled at the workmanship of the ride. From its ornate wooden carvings to the silk curtains that hid the view of those sitting inside, the carriage belonged to one of great, if not, royal status.
The carriage's lord glanced out at the street. His eyes gazed over the people openly gawking at him and his entourage.
He turned to stare back down at the royal invitation in his lap. Long fingers pulled the paper up to his face, hoping the words would disappear if he just squinted hard enough. Unfortunately, no such thing happened. The lord sighed, knocking his head back against the wooden walls. If he could, the young man would rip the letter up and burn the waste of good paper. However, with his beautiful but marble-like face, none could have expected that such thoughts were running through his head. The lord merely looked like he was meditating on some important, but distant thought.
The young man peered out the window once more.
Morning Day, he catalogued the familiar decorations. It had been years since he had seen the celebrations with his own eyes. Life at the capital felt like a distant memory. He wasn't sure if it was nostalgia or annoyance that caused his head to ache.
The constant singing of street performers and reenactments from the Great War were starting to hurt his sensitive ears.
In Feldgrau, the day was one of quiet celebration. The streets would be empty as all spent the day with close family and friends. All servants were allowed to return and share the festivities with families. In fact, it was illegal to refuse them their day off. On Morning Day, even a lord like himself would find limited help and resources.
Call him a pessimist, but as great as the sentiments were, Nikolai had never heard of any great feud, much less war, being ended on account of Morning Day. The peace lasted as long as the celebrations… and then the arguments and dissatisfaction that had been momentarily forgotten would return once more.
“What weighs on your mind, my lord?” asked the attendant in the opposite seat. The man was of a tall build and had a pointy nose. A sword hung on his belt even though he possessed a more scholarly look to him. Although the man's mannerisms were soft, there was a guarded look on his face as he scanned the crowd for any hints of the danger that had brought the pensive look to his liege’s face.
“Easy Cristin.” Blue eyes met the other man’s. “You look too smart for the attendant of a stupid prince.”
Cristin huffed a laugh as his lips quirked. If his liege was a stupid prince, he wondered what could be said of the fools that lived in that castle they were headed towards.
There was a comfortable beat of silence. The lord nodded towards the distance.
“What news have you heard on this grand ball my dear Stepmother,” the young man's lips quirked playfully. “has graciously invited us to?”
If Cristin had been a young lady at court, he would have swooned at the sight. But alas, he knew the trouble that befell any unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of the lord's amused looks. In all their years together, Cristin had never seen the other truly interested in anyone.
Shaking his head, Cristin said, “It seems for all intent and purposes a regular celebration." His voice trailed off. "Well, except for…”
The lord shot him an expectant look. Cristin sighed, hie liege never appreciated his dramatic timing.
“There is a delegation from the Wenge tribe in attendance,” finished the attendant. His brows furrowed. “It's said to be led by one of their generals…"
"Interesting," murmured the lord. He had not expected that. "Which one? The Wolf?"
The Wolf was one of the strongest generals of Wenge. The man was the cousin of Fadye, and his loyalty to his family and bloodthirstiness on the battlefield had earned him his moniker. Fadye, the most fearsome warrior of the grasslands, and his loyal right-hand, the Wolf. The two were a formidable duo and had brought the Wenge clan to the glory it now held. Fadye had named the Wolf next in line right after the chief's children. When the treaty had been broken, the Wolf's men had been often spotted raiding some of their bordering towns and villages. Although peace was technically restored, Fadye never bothered to reign back his subordinate. Many wondered if he even could.
Although the lord had never had a direct encounter with the Wolf, he had heard the tales. A brutal commander who came in the night and left by dawn... the hour of the wolf.
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"If only it were the Wolf." Cristin rubbed in between his brows.
The lord's lips quirked. Not the Wolf? Now, he was curious.
"The one leading the Wenge delegation is..." The attendant's lips pursed. "It's the heir of Fadye."
Blue eyes flashed as the lord straightened. "The Raven General?"
A moment of shock filled their carriage. Cristin had only just received the intelligence.
Compared to the Wolf, very little was known about the Raven General. But the stories were just as terrifying, if not worse.
It was said that in Wenge's darkest hour, when Fadye's eldest sons had been murdered and the minor clans and tribes had joined together to take down Wenge, Fadye's generals had sent a plea of aid to Eburean. But the plea had gone ignored. During a coup, the Wolf had been gravely injured and Fadye's mightiest generals had all been felled or captured. It was believed to be the end of the great clan. Until one battle, when a mysterious General, wearing a feathered, golden mask, charged in. The general cut down their enemies by the hundreds and the tides of the battle quickly changed in Wenge's favor. When morning came, Wenge remained while the corpses of their enemies strewed the field. It was said that on that day the general's loyal ravens feasted, and a legend was born. As their victories piled, a saying grew among those in the grasslands: where the Raven General went, victory followed. Such stories despite their rarity had even reach Eburean. Feldgrau's spies and correspondences had reported that after the battle Fadye had held a grand ceremony. During the ceremony, he named the Raven General as his successor above his remaining sons and the Wolf.
Despite the uproar, the general's favor with the soldiers and the Chief had solidified their claim. Few dared to complain for too long. And those that did... were never heard of again.
Afterwards, the Raven General had been sent to secure Wenge's borders. Those battles were small skirmishes and disputes, east and far from the concerns of Eburean. Many wondered if the Raven General was truly real, but the occasional story and successful battles were convincing enough evidence. But despite their fame, Wenge was very protective of their Raven General. Not even Nikolai's men or the Capital's spies had been able to garner the man's true identity, although it was believed to be a bastard son or cousin of the chief's family.
Cristin shot his liege a look. Although his face was blank, the young man's eyes took on a calculating glint. They both knew. For Fadye to send his heir to the Morning Day celebrations... the situation was more complex than they expected... It was just as the lord had assumed.
“The queen is planning something with the delegation, but even our spies were not able to gather more than that." Cristin sighed again. "We’ve gathered that there is to be a union between the two. An agreement of some sort.” He huffed, displeased with being unable to offer his lord more information. “But I am afraid the Wenge delegation was quite formidable."
He paused before revealing. "One of our spies almost took an arrow to the heart for stepping too close to their camp. They truly are brutal barbarians.”
“They are men just like us,” murmured the lord. The words were familiar, like an old memory. Ice blue eyes narrowed. “They bleed and fall just as easily.”
There was as much power in overestimation as there was in underestimation.
The lord paused, “But, whether they are friend or foe.” The young man shrugged, “We will have to wait and see.”
The lord watched the troubled expression on his attendant's face. Holding back an amused grin, the lord rolled his eyes. "Speak your mind, friend."
"Gladly," snorted the other man. He sighed at the almost bored look on the lord's cold face. It was as if the man was heading to an irrelevant family gathering rather than the death pit the capital truly was.
"My lord this is a trap," Cristin surged forward, unable to hold his words back. “You know this is surely a trap. You have declined all previous invitations. Why did you decide to return this year? Why now? Especially with our plan so close to-” The attendant cut himself off.
The lord was silent. It was clear he didn't plan to elaborate. The young man placed his chin on his hand and watched the passing scenery. His face was like a statue, perfect but unreadable and distant.
Cristin stared at the cold silhouette of his liege. Although he had served the other man since they were both boys and would follow him to the ends of the world, there was much mystery to the second prince of Eburean.
Lord Nikolai of Feldgrau. He was said to be a patriotic or handsome fool to the rest of the kingdom, but Cristin, the soldiers, and the citizens of Feldgrau and the borderlands knew better.
After the death of the former queen and the exile of the eldest prince, Feldgrau had gaped at the sudden arrival of the King’s second son. Was he not supposed to become the next crown prince? What was the prince doing in the land forgotten by the rest of the kingdom? While it was true the former queen, Iliana, had hailed from Feldgrau, it was never expected for another royal to step foot in the dangerous borderlands.
The people of Feldgrau had lived harsh lives. They suffered through many attacks from the different tribes. Commoners were forced to pay heavy taxes to the crown but received little for their efforts. When the noble abused their powers, there was none to stop them. From men to resources, Feldgrau had lost the most in the Great War. Needless to say, they weren’t people that found it easy to trust outsiders. Especially those of noble lineage.
But the second prince had been different. Although still a boy, he took the title of Lord seriously. His reforms secured their wall and gave the peasants work. The peasants received good money for said work. Farmers were sold seeds from the royal stores at low prices and the young scholars of low ranking noble families were given money to secure themselves an education in the capital and return to serve as civil servants. Those who were corrupt had been easily replaced or reformed.
With the economy stabilized, merchants had once again added Feldgrau to their travels and trade began to flow into their lands. Occasionally, there were even traders from the smaller grassland tribes, although they were always regarded with an extra eye and forced beyond the wall after sunset.
The soldiers who had become homeless and broken after the war found employment at the wall and as guards for the Feldgrau castle. Nikolai awarded capable men and women regardless of status. His rule and aid reached beyond Feldgrau into all of the borderlands. The governors who had try to do well by their small lands were quick to flock to his side.
Cristin himself had been a mere soldier’s son, and, now, he served as the attendant and trusted right hand of the Lord of Feldgrau.
Soon, no one regarded the young man as the son of the king but the proper Lord of Feldgrau, and the lord himself encouraged it. Within a few years, Lord Nikolai had secured the loyalty and stability of his land… and it was more than fool’s luck that allowed him to do so. There was an uncanny intelligence to the man. Although he wasn't a good fighter, he had a way of dismantling his opponents before they ever had a chance to lift their swords.
Really, it was only the capital’s lack of care for the borderlands that allowed Nikolai to carry out his work in peace. Otherwise, the strategic reparations and power the ice prince had secured for himself should have raised more than a few eyes in concern. If Nikolai wanted to challenge for the crown... it would not be a stretch to say that the entirety of the borderlands would drop their own duties and follow him to battle. He was their Lord of Feldgrau.
So, despite the questions burning on the tip of his tongue, Cristin held himself back. Like the others at Feldgrau, he placed the utmost trust in his lord.
The attendant's eyes flittered to where his lord was watching outside the window. Calls and taps came from outside.
“Over here, young master!”
“Come out of your carriage and introduce yourself to us, my lord!”
A group of flowerly dressed females chased the carriage, calling out in colorful, and sometimes, quite provocative language.
Cristin raised a teasing eyebrow.
“You know, my lord, the people were wondering if you would be bringing a Lady Feldgrau back with you.” He crossed his arms. “As much as I enjoy your company, I believe it is high time that you found yourself some company other than me and Darcy in your dark, dingy castle.”
“Shut up,” shot the lord.
As if to emphasize the attendant’s words, there was a knock on the window. A dainty, pale hand slid a white flower past the curtain. The flower floated into the lord’s lap. Giggles outside followed the action.
Cristin shot a glance at his lord’s face. He held back a snort at the mortified look on the young man’s usually blank expression.
Only a day back in the Capital and the ice prince was already popular!
Cristin spluttered as the flower was chucked at his face.
“I can hear your smirking from here,” snapped the prince.
—
“Halt there!” shouted a guard. He pulled out his spear and held it out at the approaching carriage.
The carriage master yanked at reigns. The man winced as the horses protested loudly, stomping their hooves angrily at the abrupt motion. He patted their necks to calm the animals down.
The guard did not falter. He stood steadfast. His spearhead glinted in the bright sunlight.
The carriage master looked around. The carriages beside them had also been forced to stop. The row of guards formed a line preventing any from crossing the road.
Lords and ladies peered out of their windows, arguing with the guards about the holdup, but to their credit, the line of guards held steadfast.
A soft but sharp voice called out from inside the carriage. “Why have we stopped, Dunstan?”
The carriage master scratched his head, just as confused. He turned to murmur lowly to his liege, eyes trained on the spears. “Unclear, my lord. It seems they are waiting for a procession of some sort.” He glanced around. “They’ve stopped all the carriages on this road and the next.”
A pale hand pulled the curtain aside. A noble face peered out. The cold eyes of the Lord of Feldgrau met Dunstan’s. The young man nodded at the carriage master before peering around.
In the distance came the beating of a low drum. The sound was steady and each hit was as powerful as the last. It grew stronger with every passing second. The noise reverberated through the square. It seemed as if even nature had paused as the winds stilled and even the birds paused in their songs.
The commoners and nobles walking on the street took pause. All eyes turned towards where the sound was originating from.
Pebbles on the ground jumped as the tables and wares in the different stalls shook. The people stared at one another in alarm as the ground rumbled beneath their feet. A great group was coming… but who? The stomping of hooves and braying of war horses approached in the distance.
CAW!
The lord lifted his eyes to stare at the dark raven soaring through the sky. It inky wings were a stain against the bright blue sky. The bird flapped its wings twice and then circled back. It let out another hearty call.
And like that, a grand entourage entered the street’s view.
Calvary-men dressed in barbarian armor and holding round shields trotted in between the line of guards. Their horses were creatures bred for war, each standing at least seventeen hands tall. The proud beasts brayed loudly but heeded their riders as they trotted forward. All twenty of the riders were skilled and had fine control over their steeds.
The cavalry was followed by a horde of foot soldiers. The lines of soldiers held long poles with a flag on top that mirrored the symbol on their shields. The dark, blood-red banners bore the sigil of the Wenge clan, the largest and the most formidable of the barbarian clans. The clan of Fadye, the bear-hawk who had the strength of a bear and the foresight of a hawk. The family must have had an affinity for birds. The young man's lips quirked in amusement. Ironic that their heir was known as the Raven General.
The people suddenly gasped and faltered back, tripping over one another. Some pushed forward to get a better look while others hurried to get out of the way.
Although Eburean and the Wenge were technically allies, after the agreement of the treaty was broken, the alliance had been one wrought with tension and suspicion. It was said that any wrong move could lead the two groups to fall into yet another devastating war.
The entire square fell silent. The air was frozen. None dared to move from their spots as if afraid that a single loud breath could lead to a surprise attack. There was only the sound of the marching Wenge horses and soldiers.
In the middle of the line of soldiers were two carriages. The first was smaller but still held a grand air about it. The red curtain billowed in the wind, revealing glimpses of the old men and women sitting inside. But what caught everyone’s attention was the huge carriage behind the first.
Lanterns with golden etchings hung from its sides. The second carriage was three times the size of the first. The wood gleamed, polished to perfection in animal fat. Golden horns extended out of the tops of the carriage as the Wenge’s Chief’s Sigil was carved into all four sides of the wood. Even the horses dragging the carriage were magnificent. The great beasts easily dwarfed all normal horses. Their strong muscles rippled and their coats shimmered, reflecting the prestigious pedigree.
On top of the carriage was a wooden carving of a raven… not unlike the dark bird flying overhead.
Watching the procession with his face resting against his fist, Nikolai’s eyes glinted. The carriage could only be holding the most esteemed guest of the Wenge delegates… the heir of Fadye.
He tried to squint past the thick red curtains of the large carriage, but even he could only make out glimpses of the lone, straight-backed general. Still, the man in the carriage could be none other than the Raven General. There was a gleam of gold as the light reflected off of the metal.
As if sensing the other’s gaze, the general turned their head. Behind a golden mask, amber eyes cut through the crowd and distance to stare at the Lord Feldgrau sitting boredly in his own carriage.
Nikolai’s eyes narrowed. He stared straight back into those piercing eyes.
For the briefest of moments, the Prince and the General stared straight at one another as cold blue and fiery amber met.
---
Cristin frittered around Nikolai. His neck teemed with nervous sweat.
“Are you sure about this, my lord?” He really, really hoped the man would just give in, for once. He sighed, already knowing the uselessness of his pleas.
"I've never seen you this nervous except in front of Dacey," teased the lord with a straight face.
Cristin spluttered, face bright red, but the other man took no notice and continued, "I'll be back soon."
Their carriage was parked outside of the great castle of the Eburean castle. Its mighty structure was a testament to the Eburean founders' resolution for a lasting and prosperous kingdom.
Dunstant was tending to their horses as the servants unloaded what little items they had brought.
Off in the distance, the Wenge delegation was also unpacking. Their servants, all dressed in white silky material making them stand out from the Ebureans, scurried back and forth between their supplies and the castle.
Nikolai adjusted the hood of the simple threadbare cloak. The blue material was soft and thick, but unfitting of a prince.
Cristin stared alarmingly at the dark stain on the back of it. He shook his head. “My lord…” he started. At least just change the cloak he wanted to beg.
The young man patted his attendant on the shoulder. “If anyone asks, tell them that I am taking a royal nap and am not to be disturbed.”
The attendant stared baffled at his liege. Since when do you take naps, he wanted to protest! He stepped forward, voice serious.
“The queen will be nitpicking your every move. Now is not the time to raise her suspicion! We do not have many allies here.” Cristin started forward. “Please, let me go in your stead.”
“No,” Nikolai shook his head. “The Wenge delegation was larger than we expected. Rewanna is planning something but we don't know what." He stared intently at his trusted aide. "We can’t afford to be caught off-guard, Feldgrau needs to be prepared.”
Cristin crossed his arms, frowning darkly. “Then let me go!”
“You’ve never been in the capital, you’ll only raise their suspicions.” Nikolai nodded towards the group of Wenge serving girls headed off into the city. “I know the marketplace like the back of my hand. Plus, the serving girls will have a looser tongue compared to trained soldiers. It’s almost safe.”
“Almost safe he says,” muttered the attendant faintly. Cristin didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He hadn’t meant for his lord to take his advice on pursuing women so literally!
Seeing the turmoil on the other man’s face, Nikolai merely smirked and patted the defeated Cristin’s shoulders. “Cheer up! Enjoy the food and music. From what I remember, the chefs are quite talented.”
Cristin glared. Did Nikolai really think music and food would be occupying his mind while his liege wandered a dangerous city alone?
The lord continued, “And if you find yourself in some enjoyable company…” He tapped his lips with his fingers. “Just don't get too excited, I wouldn't want to have to report your actions to Dacey...”
"You-! "Cristin’s face purpled. "We're not like that!"
But the young man was already gone. With his hood pulled up, the lord disappeared into the crowd, becoming one with the giant group of people. Cristin could barely make him out as the blue cloak followed after the serving girls.
Sighing, Cristin held his face in his hands. “Why do I get a bad feeling about this?”
He bemoaned his fate. What was he supposed to do? “Maybe I will get some food…”
The attendant headed towards the castle.
He didn't get paid enough to do this. What use was it having control of the best intelligence gathering system in all the lands if his liege was just going to run head first into danger? Gosh, now, Cristin was just spiraling. What would Dacey say, he bemoaned. Probably slap him over the head. As he entered the castle, the man headed over towards the food tables, grabbing two plates. He already knew he going to need it.
He headed towards the servants holding the trays of food. Stress eating it was!