"It's already getting dark," the first knight tutted with a shake of his head. "Beurclet is still the better part of the day out, at least while we ride laden." Here he turned in his saddle, looking back at the pony whose head barely peeked out from under the pile of saddlebags on its back. "Hart, my hart, do you think it is worth a few more miles to have to pitch a rugged camp, or should we retire to an inn?" His horse whinnied as though to protest the suggestion, and he agreed with a silent look of petition towards his comrade. "The inn is just behind us," he noted helpfully.

"Nay, I think not." replied the second, from the end of the convoy, as he drew his own steed to a standstill. He reached up to the leather cord in is hair, pulling it loose and letting his locks fall across his face a moment while they rested. He casts his gaze to the heavens, noting the dark clouds creeping in from the horizon. "The hearth calls out for the weary. We've travelled many miles from the capital, and I sense rain on the horizon. Let us rest here." Motioning for his companions to about-face, he flicked his reins to urge his steed and pack-horse back down towards the foot of hill they had crested, where the tiny hamlet sat nestled between the trees. 

Ebin could barely hear what they were discussing. He had not been on a journey quite like this before. A lone prince and his knights! He was like a hero in the stories he read, so why was he so bored.

just then Ebin had noticed Mahao turn on his horse gesturing back. Ebin was lucky to be accompanied by such honored knight, he maybe even felt some jealousy. They carried such a loyalty to each other. It did not feel built on duty, but something deeper that Ebin could sense. They moved effortlessly, like a unit. To watch them fight was almost like a dance together. And in matters of wit they were even more deadly as a pair. 

Ebin could feel the loyalty of station with his knights, but he wanted to feel the warmth of fraternity. He could tell they were sent to Shepard him, but he wanted to be Their Prince not their sheep.

“Is something wrong, are we turning back?”

At first there was no answer but the metallic cawing of crowd and jays. Sir Qana stood tall in his saddle and stared out into the distance. “No, nothing’s wrong,” the taller knight finally cooed, looking back at his charge. “Nothing new, anyway.”

It was plain in his face that the knight t’Amarì was troubled, even behind the soft eyes he turned to the prince to comfort him. “You only have the two of us for an escort, though, and prudence dictates that we stay cautious and alert. Had we numbers, and a proper carriage for you, perhaps we would press on.” He trailed off diplomatically. “Not to gainsay your grandfather’s decision to provision you as he did. There were certainly plenty of conflicting priorities.” Indeed, he thought, it made one wonder why they were doing this at all, right now. “We will rest the night in the village here, so as not to take the woods in the dark and rain.”

Mahao chuckles, smiling over his shoulder at the young prince. "Trust me, Your Highness - a tent in a rainstorm is not how you wish to spend the first night of your journey." He motions the group forward, flicking his reins and setting his steed at a slow walk down the hill, so they could better talk as they rode. "Having done so many times myself, I vote for the inn while we have one available. We have the funds to cover it, so we might as well enjoy some comfort." He draws his steed once more to a standstill as they reach the base of the rise, casting his eyes about the building before them.

The hamlet itself is small, a baker's dozen of stone and wood buildings built between the trees south of the road, roughly encircling a well at their center. The inn, "The Hunter's Mark" according to the placard above the door, was the largest among them, and the welcoming lights from it's windows beckoned after the long day of travel. Behind them, one could see the moving shapes of the residents, enjoying an evening meal and mead, and the faint sounds of a lute and lyre combo wanted towards them through the open door.

Mahao dismounted slowly, turning to his companion. "Ser Qana, your opinion - Should we disguise his Highness? Or hope the residents and travelers here will not recognize his visage?"

"In this land, the simple fact that he walks without a princely retinue is probably enough to disguise him. Our lord 'the Ready' makes a great show of his nation's wealth as a matter of the people's pride." Indeed, money and a few good knights were among the few advantages this duchy possessed, but they were formidable in their own way. "I doubt anyone knows the prince's face here."

He turned to the prince. "By your leave, you shall be a minor merchant-count for the purposes of tonight. 'Ebin' is a royal name in these parts, and therefore popular enough among the petty classes. But your surname shall be, ah... 'Ouraigne" if anyone asks. That's the name of the village we are headed to for this proclamation. As for everything else, like our destination and the like, we may as well be honest." So saying, he dismounted and took the horses' reigns. "I shall take these to the stable. You two go in and get a single room for the three of us, if you can, and then help me drag all our gear and such to the room. We can eat right after."

Ebin watches as Qana takes the two horse by the bridal sand walks them off. He notes the deep control His Knight seems to have despite the proud nature of the horses. Qana’s regulars size compared to the horses he fells somehow grand as he walking away.

Ebin poked Mahao in the side playfully causing him to turn and with swift move the little prince stays in his blind spot to poke him again from the other side. “Hehe you’re going to have to be faster then that if you are to protect me Ma… ahem, sir t’Moui” shooting him an impish grin. The two knight were always quite professional but Ebin could often goad Mahao into a smirk.

Ebin had gotten faster to. He would never have the firm muscles of Mahao that Ebin could feel under his poking and prodding, but he was starting to get around him quickly. If Ebin didn’t know any better he would even think his knight liked the tease. 

With a smirk Ebin looks over his knight. “Come Sir t’Moui. I have had a long day of… merchant-ing. Let us go find the softest bed his highness can buy in this quaint little place.” The two walk off to find and inn as Ebin takes a Quick Look over his shoulder to watch Qana walking off in the distance, his firm outline striding towards the nearest stable.   

Sir Qana could hear the playful banter as he strode away, and a small paused a moment to collect himself. His brother-in-arms was indeed entertaining to taunt, and the prince’s carefree playfulness in so doing left him fuzzy and warm in his chest. He longed to turn back and give his fellow knight a sidelong glance or a wink or perhaps some other confirmation of their bond of affection. Instead he shakes out his leg to ease the pressure under his codpiece and clicks his tongue at the horses in his care.

He set them with the stablehand with instructions to be ready to ride again tomorrow. The pack pony was small, and the prince’s horse not too much bigger. The other two were stallions, yet calm and affectionate with each other. Much like their masters.

The slightest hints of a smirk tugged at the corner of the knights mouth as he regarded his charge, and he fought to to keep his tone serious and level as he replied to the the young prince.

"Were it not a breach of protocol to do so, Your Grace, I might show you just how quickly I can move to protect my charge." He lets the sentence hang in the air a moment as the young man continues to dance about him, before he shakes his head and starts striding in the opposite direction from where his companion has departed with the horses, shadowing Ebin as they made their way towards The Hunter's Mark.

He sighed happily as the pair pushed open the door, taking a deep breath of the smells that greeted them. He's never admit as much while at court, but he far preferred the simple meals of campfires and inns to the lavish feasts at the castle, and the scent of the stew over the fire immediately set his stomach rumbling. He made his way to the bar, relying on his imposing presence to clear a path where needed. Food could wait; first, a bed. He smiled at the innkeeper, leaning an elbow against the wood beneath him.

"Hail. Have you any chambers for the evening? For three - we've been riding for some time, and His Grace longs for a rest." He motions over his shoulder at Ebin, before smiling once more at the innkeep. "Personally, though - I long for some of that stew that sounds divine, so three of those as well, if you can spare some."

The woman smiles at the man before her, subconsciously reaching to twist a lock of hair around her finger as she regards him. The hamlet, while right on the road, is not often visited by travelers, so the knight before her is a welcome change of pace  "My, hello there sir. It's a rarity that we get anyone of noble enough stature to be called 'His Grace' - or accompanied by such a handsome guard. I can certainly spare a room, and as much stew as you desire!"

She pulls a book out from under the counter, flipping through it quickly until she found the last entry. She scans the page, frowning slightly.

"Lets see...it looks like all our multi bed chambers are full. I can do three individual chambers?"  

Mahao shakes his head, smiling. "Nay, I think just the best bed possible for His Grace, and a comfy patch of floor, or perhaps two chairs, for his guards."