At daybreak, we pack our things at sunrise and spend a good portion of the morning cantering towards the disreputable town of Farnmoss. The open plains eventually lead us into a densely wooded area where Crispin has promised that the town lays just on the other side. Our pace slows as we are forced to dismount and lead out horses through the forest. Beside me is Crispin—whose dark eyebrows are furrowed together in thought—and I look over my shoulder to see Amiri and Laria bickering about something a few paces behind us—not surprise there.
Turning back towards Crispin, I realize that if I wish to know more about his sister, now would be the time to ask. Trying to think of how to bring it up, I study his gait, noting that each step is placed assuredly onto the pine covered ground. He wears a pair of tight fitting trousers and an equally dark shirt that compliments his hair, which now threatens to reach past his ears. Over the past month, we haven't really gotten a chance to keep up with any personal grooming save for the boys shaving their beards every now and then with a straight razor Amiri
He holds the reigns of his horse in his left hand while his right rests on the hilt of his sword that is attached at his waist. Suddenly, he glances over at me and looks caught off-guard, tilting his head slightly as if asking what I was looking at.
Raising my left shoulder, I chew on the inside of my cheek. "I was wondering what your sister is like? Considering-" I start, but he quickly cuts me off with a glare.
"Considering that you are risking your life for hers?" he asks coldly.
Instinctively, I want to lash out with my own icy remark but bite my tongue. His sister is in the hands of vagrants having who knows what done to her and our forthcoming arrival at Farnmoss has undoubtedly brought those thoughts to the front of his mind so I can't really blame him.
"I was going to say considering she will be traveling with us on our way back to Paevia, I'd like to know a little bit about her," I explain.
Crispin nods and purses his full lips, his face reddening ever so slightly from embarrassment. He loosens the grip from his hilt before rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Right, sorry," he begins, "Her name is Rose and is the youngest of the four siblings. Father loves her but..." he trails, searching for the right words, "Well he just doesn't have a bond with her like he does for me and my other brothers. I'm assuming that's why he sent me to retrieve her—and you I suppose."
My head bobs slowly, taking in his words. It's apparent that the respected royals have a few skeletons in their closets like the rest of us. "But why? And why call on us? I mean he says he was unable to have his troops retreat, but if I were king I'd call on my allies at the very least," I ask. I have no business meddling around in royal matters or their strategies—I was just curious I suppose.
I notice then that the dense forest is thinning out and if we wanted, we could even mount our horses, but for some reason I enjoy strolling along side of the prince, perhaps finally being able to pick through his head even if it's just the surface.
"Well, he specially choose you three because you are both skilled and expendable. Rather than paying armies whose men would only end up getting a small cut along with wasting precious time that can be spent on a battlefield, he'd rather split a large portion of coin on the three of you which would end up saving him money in the long run. He's also not one to throw away lives needlessly, he would much rather risk four lives verses two hundred," he explains.
Even his own son? What kind of father would throw his son's life away so easily? I'm not a parent of course, and might not be one for a long time if I ever even decided to have children, but I can't imagine my children being so expendable. Sure, from the outside on paper it looks better—four lives versus two hundred—but still, offering your namesake?
"Why you though?" I inquire, stepping around a large pine which forces me to walk closer to him. "Why not one of your other brothers?"
Crispin sighs and runs a hand through his tousled curls, "I suppose for starters it's because I was available. Thomas and Rory are off fighting in the war my father created. There is also the matter that I haven't accomplished much in his eyes when compared to my brothers. By my age, they had already claimed three separate victories on their own," he says, giving me a shrug before shaking his head. "I've done nothing but train soldiers, drink, and whore around. When the opportunity rose to actually do something meaningful, I figured what better way than to save my sister," he finishes, giving me a long sigh.
I try to picture myself in his shoes. A life where I live in my older brother's shadows. Day after day I wake up, train men who will have no allegiance to me—only to the two golden boys of the family who will later claim all the glory for how well they have fought. Then when the sun sinks below the horizon, I retreat to what I know best—women. The life from a peasant's point of view probably seems grand, a life of luxury and ease. But from the inside, it's lonely and unfulfilling.
I also find it sad that Crispin sees so little in himself. Though I don't know him well enough, I've gathered that he is charming, strong-willed, determined, and a good friend if you are lucky enough to call him that. How could he believe that all he is good for is a life filled with ale and pleasuring women?
Stealing a glance at him, I see that his face is stony and void of emotions, but his eyes reveal that he is hurting.
Looking away, I try to think of a way to cheer him up. "Not that it matters much to you, but I truly believe that there is great honor in training all those men. You played a part in those victories just as much as your brother's have, perhaps even more so," I say, thinking how different outcomes would be if the Paevian soldiers were novices. "You shouldn't feel as if you have to prove yourself to anyone. I mean you're the infamous Crispin Carlyle—that has to account to something," I say, peering over at him.
Surprisingly, my plan works. The corners of his lips draw up ever so slightly and he gives me an appreciative nod.
Feeling the need to change the depressing topic, I turn it back to its origins. "I've heard that Rose is quite the beauty. Is that true?"
The ghost of a smile morphs into a real one and he gives me another nod, "Aye. She's a beauty. Takes after my mother," he replies.
"What happened to her?" I ask a little too quickly, once again stepping out of place. I had heard when I first arrived to Paevia that the queen had passed years ago, but considering it was before my time and the information wouldn't help me keep food in my belly, I could have cared less.
His beautiful smile falters and he glances at me for a moment. "She died in childbirth with my sister," he tells me in an empty tone. Perhaps this is why the king has an aversion his daughter? Because she looks like his deceased wife or because she was the reason she left him a widower?
A moment of silence passes by us, the only sounds are our footsteps as leaves and pine needles crunch under our boots. Suddenly, a snicker that comes from Amiri and I peer over my shoulder to see a displeased look on Laria's face.
"I'm sorry I asked," I say, turning back to face him, "I didn't know."
He shakes his head and forces a sad smile that does not reach his eyes. "It's alright. It's all in the past and you didn't know, so," he tells me.
We walk in silence once, each lost in thought. Birds chirp overhead and a breeze rustles the pines, causing the limbs to shake and sway ever so slightly. Brushing a strand of blond hair behind my ear, my thoughts begin to drift off to his sister.
"You know, I haven't really talked like this to anyone before—about my family I mean," he says, gaining my attention once again.
For some reason, this bit of information has me pleased. Knowing that he has chosen to open up and share his thoughts with me leaves me feeling somewhat closer to the prince. I assumed that after a long night in the sheets with the women he's been with, he would have uttered his thoughts and secrets in their ears at some point. Even the woman who clang to his arm the morning of our departure seemed rather close in a way to Crispin, and knowing that he has chosen me above all of them leaves me content.
"What are you smiling for?" he asks, cocking a thick dark eyebrow at me. "Do you find joy in my misery?" he teases.
My grin falters as I hadn't realized I was. Instead of lying or try to hide it, I decide to be honest. Shrugging nonchalantly, I look at him, "I just find it amusing that you've decided to be so open with me considering how much you used to detest me. Now look at us, one would say we were almost friends," I reply.
He throws his head back and lets out a deep, clear laugh. "The key word is almost," he says, shooting me a wink. I can't help but chuckle and I'm beginning to think that perhaps Crispin Carlyle is alright.
"I just don't understand why we have to get dirty too," I mutter as I smear my cheek with a glob of dirt. I do understand of course, complaining just makes me feel better. Farnmoss has come into view, meaning we can't go riding in looking like anything else other than a lowlife—even our horses, who seem a bit agitated we spent a good fifteen minutes making them look like mangy inbreed mounts.
"It's only for a few hours, love. When we get to the inn we can take baths and treat ourselves to a bath maid," Amiri tells me, endearingly. There is nothing romantic between the two of us, but he has quickly become a very good friend of mine and he means well. On the other hand, at the word bathmaid Laria rolls her eyes and packs away her heavy armor into one of her bags. Once again she is left in only a pair of trousers and a loose shirt, leaving her feeling exposed.
We have stashed any item that could single us out of a crowd, tipping off that we are not the usual passerby. I am left in nothing but a simple tunic, a pair of tights, and mud covered boots while Crispin and Amiri sport baggy trousers and worn shirts. They aren't as flattering as their usual clothes, but given that both are handsome it's hardly noticeable.
"How does this look?" I ask out loud to no one in particular.
Crispin smirks and steps forward, licking his thumb and wiping some of the dirt away from my face. "Like you are trying too hard," he answers.
Rolling my eyes, I stick my foot in my stallion's stirrup and climb up, ready to get into town and take that bath Amiri was talking about and try to ignore the moisture on my check from Crispin. The others follow suit and we begin a slow trot towards Farnmoss.
"Remember, if someone asks questions don't give away any information but don't avoid them altogether—either will raise suspicions. We are just a group of bandits passing through, got it?" Crispin asks us.
We nod agreeing and close the distance between us and the city.
The smell is what hits me first when we are only about a hundred yards from the outskirts, causing and my stomach to twists into knots. I thought Ipswitch was foul-smelling but this place is outright putrid. An aroma mixed with feces from cows, pigs, horses, and humans wafts through the small area of houses and I'm tempted to breathe through my mouth but I'd rather not have whatever floats in the air inside my body.
"I'm sure we'll get used to it," Laria states, her face twisted up in disgust.
We make our way through the large town where the houses sit, stacked on top of each other the closer we get to the main square. People look at us—well, sneer mostly—and I get the notion that do not appreciate any outsiders visiting them.
The deeper we get into the city the smell seems to improve thankfully and I only catch the occasional whiff of piss from a narrow alleyway. The muddy dirt roads turn into cobblestone, causing our horses hooves to clap with each step. Dozens and dozens of stores are open and people walk about freely as they haggle and shop. I also notice then that most of the people here are men. There are of course a few women here and there on the streets, but most wave at us from their balconies in scantily clad clothing, if you could even call it that.
"I'll show you a good time, handsome!" one calls down, causing Amiri and Crispin to share a glance.
"Oi, up here girly!" another calls down, her breasts practically spilling out of her thin dress. "I'll only charge you half!"
It's obvious where their income comes from, and with a flushed face I jerk my head away and focus only on the cobble road ahead.
Soon we arrive at the inn—a skinny three story building made out of various types of wood with a large sign that reads "Bellamy's Bed and Breakfast"—and a stable boy takes our horses, promising that they will be well taken care of. "They better be," Laria says, placing two extra shillings in his hand for good measure. "Take it as an incentive if you will."
The boy grins and with a bit more pep in his step and leads the four horses to their stables.
"Come," Crispin says, and we follow him inside.
The floor creaks with each step we take before we lean against the counter, awaiting to be served. There is a small bell to ring, so after waiting a solid two minutes Amiri shrugs and pulls the rope repeatedly.
"I'm coming I'm coming," a fragile but hostile voice says from down the stairs. A plump old woman appears on her decent and she gives us a smirk, shaking her head. "I swear I can't go five minutes without someone needing me. How am I supposed to run an establishment if I can't get anything done?" she grumbles to herself.
"Are you Bellamy?" Laria asks courteously.
The woman frowns, narrowing her eyes as if that was a stupid thing say. "Do I look like a Bellamy?" From the corner of my eyes, I see Laria's head jerk back in surprise.
Looking around, it's clear the Crispin and Amiri are entertained by this with stifled laughs. Seeing as that I stand in the middle of the two I give them a quick jab in the ribs with my elbows as she makes her way behind the counter.
"Gigi! Ain't you know we have customers?!" she yells over her shoulder, but no one responds. Grunting, she steps up onto a stool and places her wrinkled hands on the counter. "Who are you and how long will you be stayin'?" she demands.
"My name is Cristof and these are my friends Alistor, Lorraine, and Christine. We're just passing by and would like a room for a night please," he says with ease.
She looks between the four of us through squinting eyes, "Even though you're lying through your teeth I'll let you stay. The price is five shillings a night per room. Got the coin?" she asks, holding out her hand. I notice her fingernails are long and dirty and I try not to shudder.
I can see that Crispin is caught off guard, but he digs in his pocket and lays the payment out on the counter. "How did you know?" he asks curiously.
The woman gives a sharp laugh and scoops up the coin in her hands and places it in her apron. "You don't live as long as I have and not know when someone is lyin' to you," she explains. "Each of your rooms are scattered about so take a key and pick which ever you want. Breakfast is served each morning at seven and I'll warn you here and now, it ain't no good but it's something in your bellies. By evening tomorrow I expect you lot to be out of here, understood?"
We nod and she places our keys on the counter, each of us grabbing one randomly. She then disappears yelling for the Gigi woman and leaves us to our own devices.
"I'm going to get settled in and take a bath," Laria says.
"Want some help? You know in case the bathmaids are busy," Amiri asks, shooting her a wink.
She rolls her eyes and brushes past him, heading up the stairs. "I think I can manage," she mutters.
Amiri grins and looks down at his key, reading the number in the black leather tag that is attached. "305, I'm assuming that's on the third floor," he says. He then gives Crispin a hard clap on the back and says that he'll meet him in the tavern before making his way up.
Crispin then turns to me and slings his bag over his shoulder, "Looks like I'm on the third floor too. See you around and make sure you don't draw too much attention to yourself," he says and begins to ascend the small wooden stair case before turning around, "And make sure you watch out for yourself. There's a lot of bad people here"
"Yes mother," I call out and roll my eyes, looking down at my own tag. It reads 101 so I grab my belongings and make a left down the musty corridor. My room is easy to find so I shove the key in and am pleased to see a bed, wardrobe and a fireplace that is already lit.
A note is sitting on the made up bed so I sit my things down and read it. It's a welcome letter and just goes over what the old woman said as well as letting us know there are two bath houses behind the inn—one for men and another for women. "Guess there aren't any maids," I say out loud, thinking of Amiri and shake my head in bemusement.
If there are any mistakes or misspellings let me know! I typed a lot of it on my phone and auto correct can be a total pain in the peach lol