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Going out into the woods, he was quickly blessed with prey. A fox came skulking by over a nearby ridge, red fur muted in the low light and morning mist. Lucan nocked an arrow and let it fly. His aim was true, and in an instant the creature was dead.
“Someone is looking out for us,” Lucan murmured to himself as he retrieved his kill.
It was not the most tender of beasts, and it may not be the finest of meat, but it was protein, and Lucan knew hunger well enough to be grateful for it. He took the beast back to the hunter’s cottage, stopping outside to bleed and prepare the meat for the prince’s breakfast. It felt good to provide for his monarch.
With some quiet, private time to think, Lucan considered all the options likely available to them. He was certain that the red army, whoever they were, would have been on the hunt for Sebastian at first light. He also knew that nature had a way of protecting the righteous and the good. Sebastian was both. But if they made silly mistakes, or if they took survival for granted for even a moment, they would be punished harshly. Nature knew not crown or king. It would slay a prince just as easily as it would kill a pauper.
Sebastian woke up to the smell of cooking and the warmth of a fire. He opened his eyes to see the broad back of a knight in front of him, stirring meat about a pan so it would not stick.
For a moment, he had absolutely no idea where he was, or who he was with. He only knew he felt safe, but also very sad.
As memories came seeping into his mind like spilled bath water under a door, he let out a small gasp, which brought Lucan around to look at him with a kindly smile.
“You’ve not slept long, sire, but we have food.”
“Is that what that is?”
There was a stench coming from the pan that made Sebastian forget his hunger.
“What meat is that? It smells…”
“Rank,” Lucan said. “It is fox meat. The meat of carnivores and predators is not as satisfying or as tasty as the meat of natural prey. If we had some vinegar to brine it in, some apple juice, even some salt and time for it to all settle, it would smell… well, better.”
“I don’t think I’m hungry,” he said.
“I’m afraid this is what one eats when one is on the run,” Lucan said. “I’d be happier with a wood pigeon, but this is what the forest gave us and we mustn’t be ungrateful. True hunger is not far away.”
They breakfasted reluctantly directly from the pan, which Lucan set to cool on the floor between them, leaving a round mark on the wood below. It was not the only one of its kind. Many hunters had obviously used the hut’s floor as an impromptu cooking and dining service.
Yesterday, Sebastian had been brought a selection of exotic fruits, cheeses, and freshly baked breads to his bedchamber to breakfast upon. He had barely touched any of it, lest he be bloated for his party. Now finding himself confronted with food that barely seemed to meet the criteria of food, he rather regretted that.
“Sire, we need to talk about what will happen next.”
Sebastian was relieved when he no longer had to pretend to be interested in his food. “Oh yes. Next,” he agreed. He wanted to sound like he was competent too, though the truth was he was now utterly dependent on Lucan for everything. As far as he was concerned, next was comprised of whatever Lucan said.
“You are wearing a small ransom in gold, and very fine clothing, sire. We could trade some of it for funds, which can be used to provide provisions, and perhaps recruit the first among your new guard.”
Sebastian looked down at himself. He was still wearing the very fine attire he’d worn to his ill-fated birthday party, and yes, he had an array of jewelry on his fingers, wrists, and neck. Much of it was filthy, but a little dirt did not change its value. However, the prospect of selling it struck him entirely the wrong way. His willingness to do precisely as Lucan said evaporated as he realized that obedience may very well cost him something.
“These are my things. These are the last of my things. The man with the beard took absolutely everything else, and now you tell me I can’t keep a few trinkets?”
“They are your wealth. You can’t wear them. They will draw attention and make us very easy to track. We will have to make our way disguised as peasants. Your finery represents our entire war chest — clothing included.”
“As peasants!?” Sebastian’s voice hit that pitch he hated. “What’s the point of living if one has to do it as a peasant?”
