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The woman stopped and peered up at him, craning her neck though it seemed as though it hurt to do so.
“You want Timon, the everything merchant. He sells everything you might need. He’s at the end of the village, with the stables.”
The location pleased Lucan immensely. The prospect of buying everything they needed in one place and then being free to go promised a quick getaway.
“Thank you,” he said, tossing a silver coin into the woman’s basket. Her wizened eyes widened, and she gave thanks. Lucan offered a small bow, and they went on their way through the outskirts of Greenbelt, avoiding the main path.
The everything merchant was not hard to find. There was a wood shack with a plethora of goods outside, sacks of potatoes, carrots, cabbages, apples, and pears. Then there were racks of clothes, which Lucan was very pleased to see. Tunics, leggings, foot wraps and more. Everything a prince fleeing his native land might need in terms of clothing.
There was also a big pile of weapons, simple swords, maces, and the odd shield. Lucan was interested in picking through them in the hopes of finding something light enough to suit Sebastian. None of them would be ideal in battle, of that he was certain, but almost any of them would be a significant improvement over the absolute nothing he currently had to defend himself with.
“Hello, gentlemen!” A big voice boomed from a small man who burst forth from the rear of his shop with great energy, sending several items of various natures skidding across piles of other items. The store was cluttered, a place where items of all levels of quality and usefulness were jumbled together.
Timon stood about four feet tall and was wearing a bright red overcoat, as well as a leather cross band designed to hold various weapons, none of which were actually displayed in the cross band. It was all about appearances, and those appearances were flashy and chaotic.
Timon immediately struck Lucan as a canny dealer. He had clearly soaked up all other merchants in the town and made himself the only fish in the pond. He carried himself with self-importance and an eagerness to do business that once more boded well.
“My companion and I suffered the loss of our clothing when it was mistakenly used to kindle a fire,” Lucan said. “We need doublets, leggings, full attire.”
“Of course, gentlemen. Help yourselves to what is on the racks.”
Sebastian could barely stand the notion of wearing clothing that came off a rack having been already made with some other person in mind. How on earth was anybody supposed to find anything that fitted them if the clothing wasn’t made for them? No wonder these poor peasants were so badly attired. Even the merchant they were dealing with was wearing a jacket with shoulders several inches too wide and nearly a foot too long. It was embarrassing to look upon.
Lucan started looking through the racks. Sebastian couldn’t bring himself to even pretend to be interested. He could feel the merchant’s eyes on him, inspecting him with a pitying curiosity. This man was one of the first commoners Sebastian had ever interacted with. He was surprised to find him so happy, though he clearly only had a few rooms full of eclectic junk to his name. Seb had imagined that all commoners probably spent their days feeling an intense sort of misery because they were weak and poor and had no castles or land. It was certainly how he felt now that he was weak and poor and had no castles or land.
Shoes would be nice, though. There was mud between his toes, creating a certain dry squidginess that felt interesting and probably gross and wrong. He felt dirty, dirtier than he had in his entire life. He had bathed once or twice a week in the castle. He would have liked to have bathed daily, but it caused consternation among those who assumed that cleanliness was some kind of gay thing, along with literally everything else he liked to do. Right now, he yearned for the warm embrace of a bath, for the comfort of home, and for a world where one day was much like every other day — even if that day caused him no small amount of misery.
“This might fit you, Seb,” Lucan said.
Hearing the shortened version of his name out of Lucan’s mouth, a version of his name that had never been spoken into existence prior to Lucan uttering it a few hours earlier, did things to Sebastian. It made him feel warm and tingly, it made him want to blush. It made him feel small and safe, and dare he even think the word to himself? It made him feel loved.
He was quite smitten with Lucan. He always had been. To be the sole focus of the knight, to have Lucan’s dark gaze fall on him and him alone with protective concern almost made losing the entirety of his kingdom worthwhile.
