Stolen Path

3|| Fine Dining

-Loti-

The gambeson was a deep shade of mulberry with stitches running across it in a pattern not dissimilar to harlequin diamonds. Loti's mouth hung agape in awe as they stroked the wool – it was so stiff yet still somehow soft, "This must have cost a small fortune." They gasped.

"Oh, don't worry about that." Their father sat on the hotel bed beside them, his face creased into smile lines, "It's a congratulatory present. You can wear it at the feast tonight."

"Are you sure? It's so fine – I'd hate to ruin it somehow." They fiddled with the leather straps. Each had been carved with an intricate floral pattern and sewed to the wool with jet black embroidery.

"I can't imagine that you won't be careful. Besides, it's a gambeson not a doublet – virtually indestructible." He patted the purple wool then pulled the bairn close and kissed their forehead, "You don't have to be so worried. Rells and I will be there."

"I'm not worried." Loti lied. The bairn rubbed their face then frowned, "Maybe slightly – talking's so much more complicated than sword fighting."

Their father let out a laugh and rubbed their shoulder comfortingly, "Some say conversation with nobles is a duel of sorts. I've never been much of a fan, but you'll be alright – you are next to Cadfael. He's a good lad."

Loti snuggled into their father's shoulder. The hint of bergamot reminded them of how they'd curl up on his lap as a child. Before time caused lines to grow across his face and his joints to stiffen, the two of them would go riding or take long walks and spend the evenings by the fire. Loti would never have considered themselves a spoiled child, but it was undeniable that they never felt unloved.

"Should I get changed?" They murmured.

"That might be for the best." He fished a gold-plated pocket watch from his doublet and inhaled sharply, "Blast."

"What?"

"The carriage comes in fifteen minutes."

-Adney-

The dining hall was slowly but surely filling up with guests. On one end, a roaring fire blazed behind the royal table – it had been a rather cold Drimon, after all. In other circumstances, Adney would be standing behind that table but, as the feast was in honour of the junior and adult tournaments, he was stationed behind the Crown Prince's seat on the junior victor's table which was to the right of the royals' seats facing the large central table that took up most of the space in the hall.

Adney held himself upright with his hands behind his back. A stance that he considered to strike a balance between professional and personable. Before him, the Crown Prince sat and drummed his long fingers against the polished oak table. They were pale against the stained timbre; Prince Cadfael had the sort of delicate hands made for playing the harpsicord or writing poetry. At least, that's what the boy thought.

"Adney?" The prince turned in his seat to face the boy. Tonight, he wore an ultramarine gambeson over a stark white shirt. When he had walked with the prince from his chamber to the great hall, Adney had smiled to himself: his own uniform (a short-sleeved gambeson with a diagonal two tone) matched the colours of the prince's own attire, "Never mind... It'll come back to me." He shook his head and turned back to facing forwards.

-Loti-

Walking into the great hall, Loti couldn't help but marvel at the ceiling. It curved like the hull of a great warship – decadent and mighty. For a moment, they wondered at the cost of it all, before dashing those thoughts from their mind. Their job was to try and enjoy themselves, even if just slightly. There was no point feeling guilty about some pretty woodwork that was over thrice their age.