The draft horse responded well. Likely since he knew I liked his name.
'Apple'.
It was a simple reminder of my orchard, but just in case I ever forgot, I could reach into one of my many saddlebags and draw out a crisp, delicious red fruit. The horse whinnied in joy. No doubt it could smell the aroma tucked away. He'd be able to enjoy them too—after they were used as projectiles to incapacitate any miscreant or monster hoping to invite themselves onto our day's itinerary.
We certainly weren't going to outpace any adversaries, much less any knights that were sent to usher me back to my impending poverty.
This was no battle steed bred for unmatched pace. Rather, the only thing this draft horse would outrun was a cart. And that's if it was the one pulling it.
Still, I stroked the horse's outrageously shaggy mane and declared myself satisfied.
I was fond of horses. They galloped, plodded and stood still. The three functions I required a horse to do. They did not spill wine over my dresses, straighten the wrong strands of my hair or serve me carrots while trembling with tears and apologies. They had their jobs, and unlike my waiting staff, they did it with exceptional prowess.
Beside me, the barkeeper checked the saddle and bridle.
He went about his task efficiently, tugging at the clasps and ensuring the comfort of both horse and rider. My opinion of village barkeepers rose considerably.
“Do you often require a horse for your line of work?” I queried, noting the way he was carefully inspecting the position of the tack.
The barkeeper didn't look up.
“Not often,” he replied.
The man chose not to annotate. I nodded and looked ahead.
Even the fields around this insignificant village looked modestly impressive when beneath such a welcoming moonlit sky.
“There are provisions, but not for longer than a straight ride to Rolstein. You'd best stop by a village on your way. Your … borrowed money is in a separate pouch, as is my letter.”
“Excellent.”
“Both the letter and the horse is to be delivered to Marina, the local alchemist in Rolstein. You'll find her in her store, if it's still there.”
“If?”
“It's been some time.”
“And if this alchemist isn't available?”
“Then Apple will find his way back. He's a smart one.”
The horse gave a small snort. I took that to be agreement.
“All ready,” said the barkeeper, stepping back. “You've my horse and my night's earnings. Anything else you require before you make for the lowlands?”
“That'll be all. Thank you for your service.”
“And yours, young lady.”
I raised an eyebrow.
A deeply seated part of me wished to remind this commoner about the necessity of referring to proper titles, but I'd declared myself to be Juliette and nobody else.
If my masterful deception were to succeed, then I'd need to maintain the persona of a … well, not a commoner, obviously not, but perhaps some countryside lord's daughter? Or would that arouse too much suspicion?
A problem. I was clearly far too beautiful and well-heeled to be anything less than a duke's favoured child. And all of them were accounted for. Do I pose as somebody else? But who? How should I introduce myself? What questions could I reasonably consider likely to be asked?
For two long seconds, I considered this possible issue.
And then I tossed it to the wayside.
Really now! This is why the kingdom was in the state it was. Why think and stay still when I can think and move? I'd surely come up with an answer by the time I needed to provide one. In fact, why dedicate thoughts to mere possibilities at all?
I was supremely confident in my problem-solving skills. Therefore, once this actually became a problem, it was more efficient to simply come up with the answer there and then as required. My head was too precious to fill up with hypothetical concerns. I had real ones to consider.
Such as figuring out which road was the one south.
“Also, I've provided a map alongside the provisions,” said the barkeeper, his stoic exterior looking progressively more haggled. “It's incomplete, but will help where the roads most often disappear where the woodlands overgrown. Though I'm sure you're well acquainted with the land, there are many areas where even experienced hunters have found themselves suddenly lost.”
This ... This barkeeper!
Once I was back, I would promote him to the royal court! He was far too competent to be serving frothy liquor in a pub with customers that disgraced the floorboards beneath his tables. Why, he should be serving the finest fae wine to dignitaries! Those people only soiled themselves in their guest rooms!
However, that was in the future. Right now, I had to provide him with the only reward I could offer.
Asking his name. And maybe remembering it.
“I … I see! Thank you. Thank you most kindly. I'll use it well in the days ahead. I must say, you've been of considerable service. What is your name, Sir Barkeeper?”
“Thomas.”
I gestured at him to continue.
He paused, seeming to hesitate before doing so. An action I saw frequently. Those of lesser status were always fretful to reveal their family name, for fear of open admonishment.
In truth, this barkeeper had nothing to fear. I already ranked him above every nobleman to have ever visited the Royal Villa. Why, if I requisitioned their horse and crowns, they'd protest as if I was some brigand!
“Thomas Lainsfont.”
“... Lainsfont?”
The man nodded.
Curiously, I found myself eyeing some distant cloud as my mind was struck by a hint of recognition. How strange that this should be the case.
Lainsfont.
I didn't recognise it. Nor should I. I had far too many names to forget as it was before I needed to start including the names of commoners as well.
Even so, this one tickled my memory like a word on the tip of my tongue, even where most others failed.
“Thomas Lainsfont. Now why does that name sound … familiar?”
“I wouldn't know. I'm a barkeeper.”
I eyed him, for what was the very first time, and in doing so officially upgraded him from barkeeper to known person of use.
A man in his forties with the beginnings of grey hair in his stubble. Still, he boasted remarkably young eyes. And his stature. It wasn't lowered by the pouring of mead or the hauling kegs for inebriated louts.
Indeed, his frame remained remarkably tall. And proud.
Hmm.
Interesting.
“Were you ever in service to the kingdom, Mr. Lainsfont?”
The man raised an eyebrow.
“By ensuring the layabouts of this village have somewhere to sleep off their drunkenness, certainly.”
“... I see. Well, if you ever wish to hone your skills on better dressed clientele, I may have a prospective offer of employment for you as soon as I return. Note that better dressed does not mean more palatable, however. Just less … unidentifiable stains involved.”
“I'll look forward to it.”
“Good, good.”
Turning my attention from this known person of use, I gently tugged on the horse's reins. He set off on a slow trot. Eventually, he'd need to test his pace. Rolstein was some distance away, while our knights were closer. I intended to ride through the night and into the next day.
It was only then that I realised something very important.
… I hadn't used the restroom yet.
The draft horse responded well. Likely since he knew I liked his name.
'Apple'.
It was a simple reminder of my orchard, but just in case I ever forgot, I could reach into one of my many saddlebags and draw out a crisp, delicious red fruit. The horse whinnied in joy. No doubt it could smell the aroma tucked away. He'd be able to enjoy them too—after they were used as projectiles to incapacitate any miscreant or monster hoping to invite themselves onto our day's itinerary.
We certainly weren't going to outpace any adversaries, much less any knights that were sent to usher me back to my impending poverty.
This was no battle steed bred for unmatched pace. Rather, the only thing this draft horse would outrun was a cart. And that's if it was the one pulling it.
Still, I stroked the horse's outrageously shaggy mane and declared myself satisfied.
I was fond of horses. They galloped, plodded and stood still. The three functions I required a horse to do. They did not spill wine over my dresses, straighten the wrong strands of my hair or serve me carrots while trembling with tears and apologies. They had their jobs, and unlike my waiting staff, they did it with exceptional prowess.
Beside me, the barkeeper checked the saddle and bridle.
He went about his task efficiently, tugging at the clasps and ensuring the comfort of both horse and rider. My opinion of village barkeepers rose considerably.
“Do you often require a horse for your line of work?” I queried, noting the way he was carefully inspecting the position of the tack.
The barkeeper didn't look up.
“Not often,” he replied.
The man chose not to annotate. I nodded and looked ahead.
Even the fields around this insignificant village looked modestly impressive when beneath such a welcoming moonlit sky.
“There are provisions, but not for longer than a straight ride to Rolstein. You'd best stop by a village on your way. Your … borrowed money is in a separate pouch, as is my letter.”
“Excellent.”
“Both the letter and the horse is to be delivered to Marina, the local alchemist in Rolstein. You'll find her in her store, if it's still there.”
“If?”
“It's been some time.”
“And if this alchemist isn't available?”
“Then Apple will find his way back. He's a smart one.”
The horse gave a small snort. I took that to be agreement.
“All ready,” said the barkeeper, stepping back. “You've my horse and my night's earnings. Anything else you require before you make for the lowlands?”
“That'll be all. Thank you for your service.”
“And yours, young lady.”
I raised an eyebrow.
A deeply seated part of me wished to remind this commoner about the necessity of referring to proper titles, but I'd declared myself to be Juliette and nobody else.
If my masterful deception were to succeed, then I'd need to maintain the persona of a … well, not a commoner, obviously not, but perhaps some countryside lord's daughter? Or would that arouse too much suspicion?
A problem. I was clearly far too beautiful and well-heeled to be anything less than a duke's favoured child. And all of them were accounted for. Do I pose as somebody else? But who? How should I introduce myself? What questions could I reasonably consider likely to be asked?
For two long seconds, I considered this possible issue.
And then I tossed it to the wayside.
Really now! This is why the kingdom was in the state it was. Why think and stay still when I can think and move? I'd surely come up with an answer by the time I needed to provide one. In fact, why dedicate thoughts to mere possibilities at all?
I was supremely confident in my problem-solving skills. Therefore, once this actually became a problem, it was more efficient to simply come up with the answer there and then as required. My head was too precious to fill up with hypothetical concerns. I had real ones to consider.
Such as figuring out which road was the one south.
“Also, I've provided a map alongside the provisions,” said the barkeeper, his stoic exterior looking progressively more haggled. “It's incomplete, but will help where the roads most often disappear where the woodlands overgrown. Though I'm sure you're well acquainted with the land, there are many areas where even experienced hunters have found themselves suddenly lost.”
This ... This barkeeper!
Once I was back, I would promote him to the royal court! He was far too competent to be serving frothy liquor in a pub with customers that disgraced the floorboards beneath his tables. Why, he should be serving the finest fae wine to dignitaries! Those people only soiled themselves in their guest rooms!
However, that was in the future. Right now, I had to provide him with the only reward I could offer.
Asking his name. And maybe remembering it.
“I … I see! Thank you. Thank you most kindly. I'll use it well in the days ahead. I must say, you've been of considerable service. What is your name, Sir Barkeeper?”
“Thomas.”
I gestured at him to continue.
He paused, seeming to hesitate before doing so. An action I saw frequently. Those of lesser status were always fretful to reveal their family name, for fear of open admonishment.
In truth, this barkeeper had nothing to fear. I already ranked him above every nobleman to have ever visited the Royal Villa. Why, if I requisitioned their horse and crowns, they'd protest as if I was some brigand!
“Thomas Lainsfont.”
“... Lainsfont?”
The man nodded.
Curiously, I found myself eyeing some distant cloud as my mind was struck by a hint of recognition. How strange that this should be the case.
Lainsfont.
I didn't recognise it. Nor should I. I had far too many names to forget as it was before I needed to start including the names of commoners as well.
Even so, this one tickled my memory like a word on the tip of my tongue, even where most others failed.
“Thomas Lainsfont. Now why does that name sound … familiar?”
“I wouldn't know. I'm a barkeeper.”
I eyed him, for what was the very first time, and in doing so officially upgraded him from barkeeper to known person of use.
A man in his forties with the beginnings of grey hair in his stubble. Still, he boasted remarkably young eyes. And his stature. It wasn't lowered by the pouring of mead or the hauling kegs for inebriated louts.
Indeed, his frame remained remarkably tall. And proud.
Hmm.
Interesting.
“Were you ever in service to the kingdom, Mr. Lainsfont?”
The man raised an eyebrow.
“By ensuring the layabouts of this village have somewhere to sleep off their drunkenness, certainly.”
“... I see. Well, if you ever wish to hone your skills on better dressed clientele, I may have a prospective offer of employment for you as soon as I return. Note that better dressed does not mean more palatable, however. Just less … unidentifiable stains involved.”
“I'll look forward to it.”
“Good, good.”
Turning my attention from this known person of use, I gently tugged on the horse's reins. He set off on a slow trot. Eventually, he'd need to test his pace. Rolstein was some distance away, while our knights were closer. I intended to ride through the night and into the next day.
It was only then that I realised something very important.
… I hadn't used the restroom yet.
