Eritopia

No Place for a Prince

As the King wavered and Melos pondered, Not-Bear and Jod waited in their cell. Meanwhile Martin and Beetle were enjoying their freedom.

They sat in the palace kitchens, eating sandwiches made from roast chicken from a cooler.

'I didn't know the Palace kept chickens,' Beetle was saying.

'The King keeps a lot of things denied the common citizen: chickens, and goats for milk and cheese.'

'Goats!'

'Yes, and he doesn't treat them kindly either. If they don't produce, they get slaughtered.'

Beetle let out a slow whistle. 'Goats and chickens. 'ow come you never bring good stuff 'ome?'

'We aren't allowed luxuries. Besides, if news got out such things were on the palace grounds...well, we are sworn to secrecy. One lad I remember, tried to take some eggs out in a bag under his shirt. They took him away – no one saw him again.'

'Ruthless,' mumbled Beetle, 'Is there any butter?'

Martin retrieved some butter from the cooler. Beetle opened his sandwich and smeared it over his bread.

'Great,' he declared as he took a bite.

Martin looked at him. 'Don't get used to it, you'll never taste it again.'

'Spoilsport. Now, if we could get one of those there chickens...'

'Forget it. We've got a job to do. We've got to free the wolf and his friends. And don't try any funny stuff. If you try to get us caught again I swear I –.'

'Don't worry. I've learned me lesson,' Beetle snapped and rubbed his throat.

They left the kitchens, turning into a long corridor. Reaching the end of it they crept up some stairs. They could hear the shouts of soldiers in adjacent corridors. The smell of cooking pervaded the place.

'Dinner time,' Beetle hissed.

'We'll check the dungeons first,' Martin whispered. They had to press into the shadows to avoid a group of soldiers shuffling by. They were talking as they passed and Martin stiffened as one word slipped out.

'They were talking about him,' Martin said when they had gone.

'Who?'

'The wolf. Come on.'

They followed the soldiers at a distance. A few corridors later they entered a corner room. There were others in what seemed to be a restroom. Swords and uniforms lay heaped on chairs, boots and trousers scattered on the floor. The soldiers lounged about, smoking and chatting.

After the group had entered the room, Martin slid up and bent by the door to listen.

'...Obsessed by the Wolf,' he heard through the door.

'Not worried about our coin,' said another. 'When was the last time they paid you?'

'Same as you, Harry. A long time ago. I was even thinking of packing it in.'

'Good luck with that. I heard even more people are coming.'

'What? Soldiers?'

'Nah. Just people. Old 'uns and young 'uns. Suppose we'll have to train 'em.'

'For what?'

'To fight.'

'Pah, who's going to pay for that?'

Loud cursing started and continued until someone told them to be quiet.

'Talk costs lives,' another voice said.