"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 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."

ebin whispers into Mahao’s ear. “I thought we were to take it easy on the “His Graces” he smirked and without thinking gave the knight a playful squeeze on his bicep between plates of armor. The prince was stunned at the firmness but tried his best not to show his shock. It’s sent a surprising charge through him… downwards.  

Ebin stammers for a moment. “m’LAd.. ahem, M’lady, why not your largest of the single rooms then. Surely there is one that could fit three. Though I don’t like the idea of them on the floor, maybe at least something warm? With a fire?” Ebin turned to look at the room behind him hearing the rainstorm roll through, heavy on the wood shutters. 

A scheming thought enters the young prince’s mind. If they were going to be too proper. He needed to get their guards down, put them on equal footing

”Even better, might you have a bath? Even just something warm out back to soak in, it has been a long ride and my friend here is quite, stiff”

the woman was a little taken aback at all the sudden requests but without blinking an eye Ebin had a gold piece quietly into her hands. His fast hands knew how to bribe, he could be in and out before any could notice. Ebin’s hands worked on a fine line between a popper and prince. Before she could really think she was readying what she could while they waited for Qana. 

Qana was already bathed—or rather showered. He trudges into the hall dripping and scowling as a peal of thunder announces his entrance. A curt conversation later, and he adjusts the heavy burlap riding sacks that he had hauled indoors with him up a tight flight of stairs and into the "largest room available," which is the same size as every other room, so far as Qana can see. He is ready to grouse as he walks into the room, but stops short when he sees his companions tending a boiling kettle next to a tub of water.

He sighs and sets the satchels down heavily. "Well, that will be a more welcome sight if I could get out of this soaked breastplate." His laughter is exhausted but genuine. "Give me a few minutes to try to tease these straps apart so I can dry it off. Otherwise it will rust and I'll get a chill besides."

Ebin wiggled his tail instinctively at the sound of an amused knight. The room had been a bit further than expected but the large knight sized basin was worth it, and filling was coming along well. This was much more service and work than Ebin was used to. 
 
The rain was coming down even harder outside. Ebin could feel the chill coming off of Qana as he removed heavy steel layers. There was not much in the room but every chair and post became a stand for gear. The room began to smell of Qana. Every corner beginning to fill with a sect of cedar, rose oil, and a heavier but not unpleasant musk. Ebin could feel a dwindling masculinity. Sure he was royalty and his subjects listened to his words, but it lead ebin towards a modesty lest his ego took hold. These knights had an audacity, masculinity and authority earned through action. As the room began to fill with confident knights Ebin could help but feel a little small. 

Mahao grunts a welcome as he empties another bucket of water into the wash basin. His own armour had been shed and cleaned immediately upon entering the room, and was neatly stacked beneath the window. Bare chested now, a fine film of sweat covers his back and shoulders from the heat of the fire and the exertion of filling the basin. He refills the kettle, hanging it back over the flames with an ease that belies the vessel's weight before turning to greet his companion properly, wiping a hand across his brow.

"There is oil in my pack should you need it." He pushes his hair out of his eyes before stepping towards Qana'to, taking a forearm in his hands and picking at the leather thongs holding it in place. "Your Grace," he says over his shoulder, a defiant smirk playing across his lips at the renewed formality behind closed doors, "Please tend to the fire, and let me know when the water is boiled. Would not do to have you injured trying to move it."   

They work together in silence, gently teasing apart leather and metal and fabric for a good several minutes. The pot requires tending twice before the elder knight is fully divested and the metal pieces are oiled and set aside. Qana had stripped off the last of his garments, sodden as they were, and now stretches and stamps around the room to ease a twinged shoulder muscle. He smiles at the other two across the steaming basin, tall enough to come to his thigh but not to hide the way his cock lifts just slightly away from his sack, the only hint of rakish mischief coloring his otherwise carefully blank discipline.

“I’m just glad we’re escorting a male principal, my hart,” he grins. “I’d just have to sit in wet garments all evening if we were still ferrying the Duchess of Rigeuvin about and only had one inn room. We didn’t pack bedclothes, even, to save weight! I’d be soaked until morning. I’m sure I smell strong enough as it is.”

Mahao grins across the room from where he now stands by the fire, as he hangs the last of Qana’s damp clothes by the fire to dry. His eyes not fail to notice the way the other man’s cock twitches, and he notes the slightest tightening of his loincloth as a fresh cloud of musk wafts up from the fabric in his hands.

“You say that like she would have minded. Her Grace was infatuated with you; she’d have loved nothing more than to have you strip for her, I’m sure.” He pauses for a moment before continuing. “You do smell plenty strongly though, tis true.”

“I wouldn’t have minded myself,” Qana replies, rubbing his hands down his stomach and hips. “I was as ever a prisoner to duty, but if she asked I’d have happily laid myself out for her inspection.” He laughs giddily at the thought. “Oh, the idea! Can you imagine? Her ordering us up to inspect like her husband’s horses? I wonder if either of us could have kept our own reigns firmly in hand at that!” He leans on the tub’s edge and flashes his teeth once more. “Though ahe’d faint dead away from the embarrassment as we stripped, I think. Provided you didn’t beat her to it.”

Ebin sits back on the bed giving his knights the respect of duty they have earned. He quickly grabs a pillow and tosses it in-front of his groin. All the talks of inspection, he’s begun to look his knights over.

As Qana removes his damp gear, peeking leather from his milk chocolate skin. His armor peeling from his damp flesh. Goosebumps across his skin, warmed by the adjacent fire place. He is so confident in his form, there is no second thought to disrobing in front of Mahao. It’s as if they have done it a million times before. The prince can feel the arousal run deeper then ever before, his nipples have begun to tighten, almost out of instinct. 

ebin throws another blanket on top of himself, to cover his nipples. He tries to turn his attention to mahao as if to not get caught staring. But mahao is wearing that sheepish grin of which the prince is so fond, with just a wink and a grin he has seen him move villages. 

suddenly Ebin feels out of his element. His body is warm in ways he hasn’t experienced before. He’s been around men, but these are real “Men”. Glistening and almost unconscious of their hard physiques. It comes so naturally that ebin isn’t sure if he should look away of keep staring.