The Prince & The Sorcerer [Weak Hero Fanfiction]

The Meeting

There was a light throbbing in Gray's head. He shifted and there was triple the pain in his abdomen. He hissed and grabbed his side, too aware of the searing pain to return to sleep. His bleary eyes opened and he squinted against the ray of white sunlight streaming into his field of vision. Where am I? His fingers brushed the surface beneath him and he felt straw rather than the downy coverings of his own bed.

"Good morning."

Gray bolted upwards and reached for the dagger which should've been in the scabbard by his side, but he panicked, realizing it wasn't there. He looked down; these were not his clothes. His hunting attire had been traded for a thin, sack-like cotton shirt. He grimaced, seeing a growing spot of blood in the fabric.

A hand came to touch his side and Gray jerked away, grabbing the arm it was attached to. Frenzy blurred his vision. "Who are you? What've you done? Do you know--" He clenched his teeth as the injury in his side brought about another wave of pain, loosening his grip but not giving in the desire to lay back down. He had to stay alert. He might be in an enemy's camp, and Camelot had plenty of enemies to spare.

"Will you let me redress that wound?" the voice asked, a man around his age. Gray hadn't gotten a good look and he only saw the back of the man's head as he removed Gray's hand and turned his back to survey the room for some item. It was a small place, stacked with all manner of baskets full of herbs Gray hadn't seen even in the palace physician's chambers. There was a rope hanging about the room, large green leaves and ruby-red berries growing on the vines encircling it. There was an entrance and a small window where a few quaint pots grew spring vegetables. Gray hadn't known tomatoes could grow this time of year. Whoever had kidnapped him was obviously very talented at their profession.

The man himself had yet to say anything further, and Gray realized he should say something in response. "Who are you?"

The man removed a glass jar from a wooden cabinet. "I found you last night."

"Found me?" Gray wished he could recall which situation the man was referring to, but his mind came up blank in the face of the headache that continued to persist.

"I believe you were on your way to your coronation," the man said.

Gray jolted. Right. He and a troupe of his most loyal knights had embarked on a hunting trip to commemorate the penultimate day before Gray would ascend the throne. The hunt had been bountiful and his soldiers had bragged about the palace's kitchens not needing to purchase veal for the feast that would be held. They'd begun the day-long trip back to Camelot before Gray's memory faded into nothing. He pressed a finger against his temple and shuddered at the shooting pain that accompanied it.

He glanced at the man, who finally turned around, a hand on one hip, and his other holding a jarred green poultice by its base. He was wearing a cotton shirt similar to Gray's, though his shirt fit his long, lanky frame more suitably than it did Gray's smaller body. His long pigs'-skin apron matched the color of the roomy work pants that sagged over bare feet. His face was smudged with dirt in some places. His eyes were honey brown and his lopsided smile was kind. Gray commanded himself to remain on guard. This stranger could still be the enemy, though that was becoming less of a likelihood. He'd clearly been ambushed, and this person had saved him.

"What's your name?"

The man bowed. "Stephen, my lord."

Gray nodded. "And your profession?"

"I'm a physician's apprentice, sire." He grinned when Gray gestured around at the well-equipped room with a doubtful flourish. "My master's away on a herb discovery expedition, so I've taken over his practice for the time being." He hurried forward. "I've prepared medicine for your wound so it will heal faster."