Julian was too scared to return to the trail by the river, since Regulus had said it was frequented by his soldiers. If Berleant was north, he would head north.
As he stumbled through the dark woods, he tried not to panic. I'm not going to die in these woods, he told himself despite the gnawing hunger pains in his belly. He reached out his hands to the trees blindly to try not to run into anything in the near-darkness.
He reached a break in the woods where the moonlight shown down. He looked down at his arms, which were cut and bleeding by the bramble. A glimmer of light caught his eye, and he lifted his right hand. The ring from Regulus still sat on his finger. Regulus had mentioned it was pure gold. If Julian could find wealthy merchants, surely he could sell it for enough gold to pay his way across the border to Berleant.
Invigorated by this revelation, he walked until he felt he might collapse. Hours into the night, Julian stumbled across the town square of a village. A tavern sat in the middle of the town square, a oil lantern in each window. He could hear the sound of a string band through the windows. What luck.
Julian lifted his eyes to the sky and silently thanked his mother, who was surely looking out for him. He stayed in the shadows as he watched the tavern, observing the drunks and whores stumbling out together. He needed to find the men with the deepest pockets. After spending so much time with Regulus, he knew what to look for.
Near the doorway, two men stood under the swinging tavern sign, each holding a tankard of ale. They wore surcoats, one a dyed red and one a woolen brown. Their black boots were shiny and unscuffed, a sign that they rode horses rather than travelled on foot.
Julian twisted off the ring and held it tightly in his hand as he approached the tavern. The man in the red surcoat noticed him first. He was short and dark-haired, with large bushy eyebrows and dark eyes.
"Lad," The man in red called with a sardonic smile, his gaze travelling down Julian to take in the state of him. "Are you lost?"
Julian knew he looked like a lunatic. He didn't have boots and he wore torn, blooded stockings. His trousers and tunic were similarly muddied and torn. He ran his fingers through his hair to shake off any leaves and twigs.
"You buy and sell things?" Julian asked, ignoring the mocking question.
"Aye, we're merchants. We mostly trade in fabrics." The merchant in red responded with a laugh. "You certainly look like you could some new clothes."
"I'm looking to sell, actually," Julian said, opening his palm to show the gold ring. The merchant in red's eyebrows raised and he stepped forward to get a better look. The merchant in brown looked at Julian instead. He had been silent and more focused on drinking his ale despite his comrade's teasing so far, but he studied Julian with interest now.
"You looking to sell this?" The merchant in red questioned. He reached for it but hesitated. "May I?"
Julian shrugged and let the man take the ring. Regulus did the same thing for his jewels to determine their value. Both of the men were drunker and at least twenty years older, so he didn't consider them much of a threat. The merchant lifted the ring to better look at it in the light of the tavern.
"Where are you running from?" The merchant in brown said, not unkindly. "Son, you're not even wearing shoes."
Julian searched his mind for a lie. His head had begun to ache, and he couldn't recall the name of a single town around the High Castle. If only he had eaten any of that goddamn food that the kitchens had prepared.
"Rothlow," Julian said finally, naming the Capital City that surrounded the High Castle. "I—I'm running from my father."
"Who's your father?" The merchant in brown asked curiously. He was tall and slender, and his hair was nearly entirely grey.
Julian grimaced. "Blacksmith for the King." It came out as more of a question.
"You stole this from your father, then." The merchant in red observed, though he didn't seem angry.
"Does it matter?" Julian shot back, growing impatient by their questioning. "Do you want it or not?"
"How much do you want for it?" The merchant in red asked. "Name your price."
Julian searched his mind for a reasonable price. Regulus had never told him how much he had spent on it, and Julian didn't know its worth. "Twelve gold coins."
Both men's eyes widened. The man in brown clamped his hand down on the forearm of his comrade in red to silence him before he could speak any more.
"Son, we don't discuss business on empty stomachs." The man in brown said, picking up the ring from his friend and handing it back to Julian. He shared a warm smile with Julian. "Let us buy you dinner. You look like hell."
Julian accepted the ring and considered this for a moment. He had to admit he was ravenous. Even if these men couldn't afford the twelve gold pieces, at least they would feed him while they tried to bargain for a lower price. "Alright," He said, sliding the ring back onto his right hand for safekeeping.
He followed the men inside the crowded tavern. His stockings stuck to the sticky floor with each step, and he was jostled by drunks a few times. They sat down, and the man in brown waved over a barmaid. The barmaid placed a bowl of stew in front of each of them. It was mostly broth, with some potatoes and greens, and a chunk of hard bread. Paltry. Julian stirred it dismally as he thought of the roasted pheasant prepared by the castle kitchen.
Never one to complain, Julian began to drink the stew. It scalded his tongue but he was far too hungry to stop. The merchant in red ordered another round of ale for the table.
Julian drank down several large gulps of the ale before he resurfaced. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt.
"I didn't realise the King kept a Veneroi blacksmith," The man in brown said, leaning back in his chair to get a better look at Julian. He tapped his foot against the sticky floor absently. The merchant in red drank down his ale, not as keen as interrogating Julian. He was watching one of the bustier barmaids bend over to clean up empty tankards.
Julian ripped apart the bread and dunked it into the stew to soften it. "Do you want it or not?" He said through a mouthful of bread. The merchant in brown arched an eyebrow.
Julian swallowed quickly, remembering a time when Regulus scolded him for having bad table manners and called him uncouth. Blacksmiths weren't very refined. At least he hadn't pretended to be a lord.
This peeked the merchant in red's attention again. He looked at his companion and leaned forward, folding his arms on the table. "We want the ring, and we'll pay you the twelve gold coins."
"Why don't you fetch the gold coins for the lad?" The merchant in brown said, sliding his a silver key across the table to the merchant in red. They stared at each other for a moment, before the merchant in red collected the key and left the table.
"I keep my gold locked upstairs," The merchant explained to Julian. "Would you like another round of ale?"
Julian shrugged. Now that his hunger pains had lapsed, he was growing more suspicious of the pair. He worried they didn't have the gold since they were putting off the purchase. Should he suggest that he would sell for less? Or were the men trying to steal from him? The men in brown had returned the ring quickly enough.
Julian rested his hands on the table and folded them so he could always keep sight of the ring. The man in brown leaned forward and brushed back the sleeves of Julian's tunic to reveal the bruising on his wrist.
"Your father did this to you?" The man questioned, glancing up at Julian.
Julian's cheeks colored. "He's a cruel drunk," He muttered, tugging the sleeve back down to hide it.
"How terrible." The man in brown said softly. He drummed his fingers on the table, and was silent a few minutes before he spoke. "You say you come from the High Castle?"
Julian leaned in closer to hear him over the sound of the tavern. He didn't say anything in response, too nervous to speak.
"We just came from the High Castle." The merchant explained, locking eyes with Julian. "Sold some fabrics to the King's tailor."
Julian dropped his spoon back into the stew. His heart began to beat quickly.
"He says the King keeps a Veneroi lover." The merchant said. "A young man, if you can believe it. Fair-haired and pretty like a woman."
Julian rose to his feet so suddenly, he knocked back his chair. He looked around for an escape, but they were surrounded by crowds of drunks. The door to the tavern was past several crowded tables, men gambling and dancing with women. He would have to get around the merchant.
"Sit down, son," The man said, eyeing Julian with a small smile. "My companion didn't recognize you. I won't share your secret."
Julian took a step back, and knocked into a barmaid carrying two pitchers of ale. She swore as her splashed over the edges of the tankards. The merchant in brown stood up too.
"I don't mean to frighten you," The merchant said, though his smile that had once been comforting now seemed menacing. "You must understand my curiosity. We'll give you the gold you ask for—"
Julian moved past the barmaid and rushed to the back of the tavern, certain there was a backdoor. He elbowed his way through the drunks until he reached the back of the tavern. He moved past the men working in the kitchen, stirring a giant cauldron of broth and pouring ale into tankards. Ignoring the shouts of the cooks, he burst through the back door and ran back into the dark woods.
~
For about two days, Julian walked through the forests. He slept at night in the forest, drank from the streams, and foraged berries and mushrooms. He went to sleep at night on the forest floor, dreaming of the feasts in the Great Hall.
If he came across a village, he didn't enter it. A part of him knew that he suffered some bad luck with the merchants and was not likely to run across someone that knew his story again, especially as he travelled away from the High Castle. The other part of him was too petrified to step foot in another town again.
On the second day, Julian came across a farm with a small house and roaming chickens. It was a dilapidated parcel of property. Part of the house's roof was collapsed, the fences were termite-eaten and falling down, and the chickens roamed. Not a single vegetable or fruit was growing on the farm. He thought it abandoned until he came across clothes hanging on the laundry line.
Julian hung back in the shadows of the woods and watched a young woman emerge from the house. She unpinned the clothes from the laundry line and placed them in her basket, before returning to the house. He considered begging her for scraps, but he couldn't explain the panic that rose in his chest at the thought.
Over the next few days, he stayed in the woods and observed the farm girl. In the mornings, before she came out to feed the chickens, he snuck into the chicken coops and stole a few eggs. As he walked back to the comfort of the forest, he smashed the egg, held it to his lips, and drank the raw yolk.
Every morning, the farm girl fed the chickens, collected the eggs, and walked down a dirt road with her basket of goods. When she returned home in the afternoon, she went to the river to wash clothes and bring water to the house. As the sun set, she hung laundry. She worked tirelessly, and Julian never saw any other person come to the house despite the men's clothes that she hung on the line. One morning, she slaughtered a chicken, defeathered it, and cooked the meat over a fire in the back of the house. His stomach ached for the cooked chicken, but this girl seemed about as hungry as him. Eggs were one thing, but he wasn't willing to take meat from the girl too.
One day, it poured rain. Desperate for warmth, Julian snuck into the barn. It still had hay in it from some large animals, but he assumed the impoverished farm girl had sold or slaughtered the last one.
Julian climbed the rungs to the overhead of the barn. He laid down on the straw, shaking in his wet clothes, but at least he was mostly sheltered from the rain. Somehow, rain still seeped in and wet the straw. He rolled on his side and tried to burrow under the straw as much as possible.
Julian wondered if it was too late to return to Regulus. There was hell, and then there was this.
~
Julian woke to sunlight streaming over his face. He opened his eyes and stared at a hole in the roof. He groaned and rubbed his face. His clothes were still damp from the night before.
Julian sat up slowly, his stomach and head aching. He needed to get to the chicken coops before the girl did. He swung his legs over the side to jump down, but froze at the sight before him.
The peasant girl was wielding a pitchfork threateningly and glaring at him. She had long, mousy brown hair that she tied back behind her head, and big, brown eyes. She was tiny, but her pitchfork was large.
"Get down," The girl growled at Julian, jabbing the air with her pitchfork.