"Oi bard!" The attention came to the hunter-escort as they yelled. "Can't you see his highness is scared of you? He's still a child for goodness sake."
Raising up his head, he said "Alright, alright." Glaring at the back of the head of the prince, he said "But you must answer me why you think your older brother's the reason."
"I— I will." He looked at the hunter, mouthing his gratitude. Chrysostomos watched the boy, growing more distant from each other.
Chrysostomos bribed him, "I'll give you some sweetmeats if you wish." Pwyll halfway turned his whole head to see him, but he stopped himself and slumped over just to hum.
The bard grinned, swaying and hopping through any outgrown roots. "Don't forget about what I asked, okay?"
He responded with his head down, "Yeah…" Chrysostomos was thrown the corpse of the wren. He felt the weight of it, the still fresh blood drenching his clothes and the lyre.
"Could've warned me, you know?"
"That wouldn't be as fun as what happened," the escort guffawed, brushing the feathers off. It didn't take long before only the sounds of nature and men jesting to each other to relieve the mood.
Long was the journey back to the castle. Even after the incident, Pwyll came closer to the bard. He didn't know, or even care to understand them enough to make the escorts his acquaintance.
Baffled at this, Chrysostomos asked "Why come closer to me? Try to meet other people, maybe you'll like them."
"I'd really rather… Not."
"Why?"
"Feels awkward."
"If you came here, then you want to talk about something." Chrysostomos hugged the wren, blowing away the feather nearing his mouth. "Or am I wrong?"
The prince opens his mouth, slowly but surely shut once again. The bard shook his head. "Later it is." The bard then thought where, then remembered "The large spruce tree?"
"N— no. I don't think we need to go there."
"Alright then." It didn't take long to get out of the forest. The sound is what they followed, filled with horns being blown and the marks of arrows scattered around. "Never have I thought that people would truly use this as an archery range."
"Why?"
"Better to have it inside the forest, no?"
Narrowed eyes, Pwyll asks once more "Why?"
"Oh I don't know." He kicked a rock. Moving it before it turned to the left. "Skirmish tactics, ambushes and training by hunting. Although I think it best not to eradicate the animals. Speaking of that, I should teach you the fundamentals one day."
They were greeted forthwith by a carriage, not of which shows wealth but only practicality and a cloth that draped over the body to make it "beautiful". All in all, it looks oh so bland.
"Is this what you can afford?" Chrysostomos japed.
Pwyll informed him "We came here by foot."
There was this moment of anger in the bard's face. "I should've kept that rock, dammit now I feel stupid." He only murmured it, not wanting the boy to hear that word. "Call out your escorts."
The prince himself drew his string, an arrow aimed at the window, which was only a hole with a small curtain closing it. It was pushed open, shaking Pwyll to lower his weapon.
"What in God's graces are you doing, Pwyll?"
"I uh… Um…" He took a step back. Understanding the situation, Chrysostomos answered for him.
"It feels threatening to meet a carriage when we came back, your highness. As you would know, we walked on foot."
Rolling his eyes, the young adult told him "Not my fault that the driver was excited to meet both of us." The bard glared at the said man, greeting him with a hello. The younger prince hid behind the bard.
The driver asked "Do you wish to ride it, your highness?"
Pwyll shook his head. "No… I'd rather walk, but thanks for your offer." He paused before saying "My brother paid this too. It wouldn't be nice to take it."
"It would be for free, sir. Wouldn't be much of a hassle," the coachman persuaded.
Then the boy thought about it. Hiding in that vehicle, not much seen by his kin. It was tempting, oh so tempting that he walked to it. Until the words of Chrysostomos reminded him of what he said.
"The boy said it would be unfair to His Highness, Prince Rhodri."
With an understanding but a downcast look, the driver nodded. Not soon after, they lamented "Perhaps another chance."
Going back to topic, Chrysostomos said "I still do not understand the reason as to why you'd be using this type of vehicle other than not being detected as a rich nobleman."
"It's great to have someone else say it other than I." Opening the door, the older prince went out. "Also, I did think it through. Extremely idiotic and wastes too much time, no?"
"Why are you here?" the young prince asked.
"Do you not see why?" replied Rhodri. The horns have been blared. There, they were ordered to greet the heir of the principality of Gwynedd. With how few men there were, the line was made quicker than what the levy and militia men could make.
"Ah." Pwyll shuffled behind his warden, shying away from his brother's glare. A faint curiosity came as he saw the bandaged arm of Pwyll, but he brushed it off as nothing for now.
"You're becoming a soldier, are you now?" Chrysostomos laughed. "How the years have passed! It seems that I'm getting older, and it gives me such happy, depressing thoughts that you've grown up."
"And you're still the same as ever," Rhodri replied. "Oh," he resumed, back facing the bowmen. "I was thinking, if you had a chance, could you give me intel on the English' armour?"
"Oh?" The English? So soon? "Why is that?" Chrysostomos pondered, he whispered to himself "Marcher lords perhaps? But we're not…" He widened his mouth that said "I have to ask, why?"
"Don't tell me you've forgotten," Rhodri chortled. "My wife's domain needed aid for liberating the south."
"Of course," Chrysostomos said. "How could I forget?" He fixed himself, moved his cloak to a more comfortable place. "I will have to consult my journals before I do. It has been a while since I've opened it up. Perhaps I could—"
The bard had felt a tug of his tunic. He didn't need to turn to know who it was. The bard gave an apologetic grin as he said "It was pleasant to be with you, if only for a moment."
With a genuine smile, the heir said "I would say the same to you." Precision was the main aim of the session, as many of them were younger than the prince himself. Pwyll wished to stay, to watch and mimic them. Alas, he'd rather leave than stay with his brother.
The bard took the bird's corpse, seeing the stains on his clean clothes. He cringed. "To be honest with you, I thought I'd lost the wren." He saw the carriage once more.
Then Pwyll thought against it. 'What a load of bull, taking a fucking carriage that someone else paid. What an idiot.' The boy degraded himself further as he was walking away with a smile.
"The escorts you had probably stayed with, am I correct?" Chrysostomos asked.
Pwyll glanced at his back, seeing that there were still some handful. Handful being three, of course. "No, there are still some."
"Guess that there's still some who still do their jobs."
Hearing this, one escort retorted "It's better than your scrawny arse being the only one taking care of a child."
With a dismissive tone, he nodded and said "Yeah, yeah." It was an awkward walk back "home". Pwyll was the farthest, speed-walking than trotting, or even, normally walking.
"You couldn't wait for us?" Chrysostomos questioned, trying to catch up with the bird being his hindrance.
"No," Pwyll answered.
Groaning, he asks "Do you want me to take care of this?"
Facing him and wearing a smug smile, Pwyll replied with a fast "Yes."
How the bard wishes to punch that bastard right now. Chrysostomos had a façade of a tired face, quelling inside the absolute shots of cusses he's making.
It was then they saw a castle, dull on the outside as it was only walls. The moat was large although the water that it contains was of a horrid colour.
The bard had put the corpse at his shoulders, continuously shaking off the flies and covering his nose from the smell of not only the corpse, but also the moat itself. Seeing this, one of them said "It doesn't smell that bad."
"I've a sensitive nose," he replied, walking faster to the bridge. He eventually caught up to the boy. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but I'll waste your money."
Scoffing, the prince said "Why would I worry about that?"
"It's your money, Pwyll."
"It's not mine, it's my father's."
Baffled, Chrysostomos said "Your money. That's your money. It's in your possession, not his majesty's."
Shoulders up, alongside his hands, he said "If that's what you think, then sure." Chrysostomos clenched his hand.
"If you weren't a child, I would've pushed you in the moat."
After hearing that, Pwyll had a scrunched-up face, horrified at the idea of it. "Yuck."
"I will do it, but there's no guarantee when it will happen." Pwyll started to go slower, still processing the threat. The bard however, was pleased at the result. It wasn't that he wanted to scare the boy though.
They went to the gates, greeting the gardens of white daisies, poppy flowers, flowers sprouting in the stems in the shade of reddish-purple called red bartsia.
Near the waters, a bell-shaped, purple and violet coloured, chequered flower that drooped brightened the place, depressing as it may look. In the middle though, it was a paved road, although stone is not present below their feet.
"We're here." They were greeted with both servants and soldiers, the halls of the castle exposed although still farther away. There was a loud bout of shouting, as if there was a feast even though there was no such holiday.
It felt off, although it was the norm for the nobleman. "Did you pay them?" Chrysostomos mentioned the escorts who had started to go inside.
"Yeah, of course I did. I don't want to look pathetic and run to my room to get the money to pay them."
"I guess that makes sense. Now," He let the bird's carcass now be in front of him. "What do I do with this?"
"Give it to the servants." Tilting his head and raising both of his brows, he asks "What about the "trophy" thing you want?"
"What do you need for that?"
"Oh, you know… The skin, the beak, the eyes, the feathers, maybe even the legs."
Raising his brow, the boy asks "Do you need everything?"
"Not the inside parts that we eat. Those are some things we don't want." The boy emphasised that he could give the bird to the servants and, of course not trusting much of the skills of the workers, he disagreed.
So, instead, he asks "Where is the kitchen?"
"Behind the garden, it's near the stairs, I think." He goes there, taking a small and thick knife. He pierced the back of the bird, going above the tail up to the part below the head.
The process thereafter wasn't difficult but it was not as clean as he wanted it. He finished as fast as he could, gifting the servants who were watching the meat that was left.
Washing his hands in a basin, he said before leaving in a rush "Would anyone please take it out to dry? Thank you."
Although he lived here, he didn't know where the throne was. He hasn't been there that much as he was more of a squire for Pwyll than the musician that he thought he'd be when he got the position.
"Do you know where the throne room is?" he queries one of the passing servants.
"It's on the left, go straight and then go up. You'll immediately see the large doors," they answered, going back to their task.
Chrysostomos nodded, visualising it and trying to memorise it. "Thanks." He said, going away and doing the directions.