Chapter Eleven

They practiced the tortoise position and fighting all the next day. Lord Dubois left Remus alone, and the men, forced to work together so much, mingled more. Even Morris and Nate started talking to the others more as the events with their first Commander faded a little.

When they left the next morning, the camp was packed up in good time. The men appeared pleased with themselves since they'd improved, and in the future, setting up or tearing down wouldn't be such a bother.

They made their way across the fields to Redwin. Whisper pranced along for a bit, proud to be the new Royal Steed. Sébastien's horse was on a lead rope tied to a wagon, and he was content to be led along.

The next couple of days went by smoothly, although Remus couldn't quite stomp down the tension that grew a little. He asked how Sébastien planned to get out of staying at the inn.

"I've got a way."

***

When they arrived in Meche, the sun was on its way to bed, and the men were certainly looking forward to a decent one themselves.

Whisper didn't mind the crowds since he had his favorite fairy, and he walked with his head high. He likely considered the rest of the group to be his personal entourage. As they came over a hill in the city, the rest spread out beneath them and merged into the docks. Beyond that, the ocean stretched out, a dark ribbon that was lit more to one side as the sun sank in the west. From their vantage point, Remus was able to make out the massive bluff where the Southern Edge Inn sat. The square stone building was practically a Castle, and a fat coin purse was needed to stay there.

Remus had heard that the food was some of the best, the rooms were luxurious, and it had an enormous balcony facing west so guests could watch the sunset while they had their dinner if they wanted. Besides that, it had a courtyard set up like a garden so people could sit there and eat or drink with bushes and plants offering a sort of protection from the eyes of others.

They made their way down the hill, and Remus was pretty sure he'd figured out what the Prince planned to do. Someone had surely been lurking and watching the road into the city, so they knew the Prince had arrived, although he was late. All of the training hadn't been a part of their original itinerary.

At the inn, the two Knights who'd gone to Meche would wait until night. Once everyone was asleep, or at least in their rooms, the inn would be set on fire in the hopes that the Prince burned to death or died from smoke inhalation. The two Knights might've had a couple of helpers, but on their own, they could do it. It would look like an accident, and it wouldn't be the first or last inn fire to happen in history. A single candle or a spark from a fire can turn into a catastrophe, and while the outside of the Southern Edge was stone, the inside was wood.

If the Prince made it, they'd be waiting on the ship Sébastien was to take.

Sébastien stayed a little ahead as he led the group, although Remus wasn't far behind. The citizens of Meche didn't go to bed early, and the streets were still crowded and noisy. Torches and crystal lanterns in front of inns and taverns were lit to draw customers like a moth to light in the darkening streets. Two sailors were having a fistfight outside of one tavern.

Vendors shouted their wares, and workmen, done for the day, headed home or to drink away the evening and their wages. Remus spotted a couple of barefoot children run by, and a drunk sagged against a shop with a nearly empty bottle clutched in one hand. Carts and wagons rattled by while staying out of their way, and more than one person pointed at the Prince on his unicorn.

Remus hadn't seen any pixies lately, and a couple flew overhead in little clothes made from woven leaves and grass. Another appeared from practically nowhere and landed on the tip of Whisper's horn.

"Woooohooo!" She spread her arms as she faced out and stood on her tippy toes. Whisper tossed his head, forcing her to jump and flap her yellow wings.

She fluttered over to sit on Remus's shoulder and eye him.

"Hi," he said.

She tapped her pouty lips and squinted at him as she folded her wings closer to her back. Most were about six inches high, although she was a bit bigger. They could speak, although not quite like a fairy. When she spotted his collar, she clearly understood that since she grabbed the edge with her tiny hands and tugged as if to rip it away with a scowl on her face.

"That's not coming off," he muttered.

"Free," she whispered, baring her pointy teeth.

Even pixies understood that slavery was wrong.

"You'll never rip that off. Why don't you go home?" He gently pushed her hands off with a finger. "I'll be alright."

She tilted her head before she pulled at the bit of twine she'd tied her hair back with. After stuffing it into his shirt collar, she flew off. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with her present besides keeping it. It was a nice gesture if a pixie gave someone a gift. They'd be highly offended if it was rejected, even if it was a simple flower petal.

Sébastien suddenly turned away from the main street they'd been using. A cluster of kids scurried out of the way, and the group automatically followed. Lord Dubois rode closer.

"Prince Sébastien, the best way is to go straight until we reach the road that leads up." He pointed at the bluff.

Sébastien paused Whisper and twisted in the saddle to look back at the Earl. "Oh, we're not going there."

The lord blinked at him. "I'm sorry?"

"We're not staying there," said Sébastien. "I decided it's better to not risk it. We'll find some other place to stay."

"Risk what?"

"Southern Edge has gone downhill. I wouldn't go there if you paid me."

"What are you talking about? It's the best of the best." Lord Dubois drew closer to the Prince who squinted at him. "We're supposed to stay there, and it'll be a fine place to get some real rest before the ship."

Sébastien made a face as murmurs rose from the others. "A few courtiers mentioned that the food isn't nearly as good as it used to be. One had a stomach ache all night, and the servants don't clean the rooms properly half of the time. They've also got a roach problem."

"I've heard of no such thing!"

"Good thing you've got me or you'd have a roach cozying up to you in your bed."

"It's true," Remus butted in since Lord Dubois appeared ready to keep arguing. "Even in Rowland, I heard that place is nowhere near as good as it used to be."

Lord Dubois looked at them both like they'd sprouted extra arms. "Do you know how much money they make? They'd never risk-"

"For Elira's sake," snapped the Prince as Whisper fidgeted, eager to keep going. "Do you also know how much it costs to keep up an inn of that size? I'm sure the owner took a long look at his expenses and decided to chop a few corners."

"I know someone who stayed there, Your Majesty," a guard spoke up. "The fish pastries sent him to the privy all night, and I don't want to be next."

"You said nothing earlier about us going to a different inn," said Lord Dubois.

"I guess I forgot." Sébastien shrugged.

"You can't change plans so fast without saying something beforehand."

Sébastien blinked. "Can't I? Last I checked, it's me in line for the throne. Not you. It's not like I'm saying you have to sleep outside."

Lord Dubois tugged on his mustache. "We'll go up there, and you'll see it's fine. No matter how good an inn is, you'll always have a few complainers-"

"If you think I'm sleeping in a place where vermin runs about and the food is liable to have me trapped in a privy for ages, you're wrong, and I'm not arguing about this anymore. I mean, if you want to go up there and spend the night, don't let me stop you. Enjoy having the runs. Maybe a roach will keep you company in the privy and tell you the local news."

Lord Rochefort let out a small laugh and covered it up as a cough. Lord Dubois gritted his teeth. Once they continued, someone said they'd rather sleep on a rock than deal with roaches. Remus had a feeling Lord Dubois knew of the plan. Of course, he wouldn't die in the fire. He'd likely planned to be outside because he'd had "trouble sleeping" and needed "fresh air." How convenient.

Sébastien chose a decent, stone inn. It wasn't big enough for everyone. Some would have to sleep in the stables or make do outback. It was safer that way too since they could watch the carts and wagons.

Remus took care of Whisper, did the inventory as usual, and went inside with his pack. The innkeeper said Prince Sébastien was on the top floor. Remus expected it to be a little bigger when he entered, and there wasn't much space between their beds. It had a small fireplace and an attached privy room. Another door led to the balcony.

Sébastien left to eat with Lord Dubois and Lord Rochefort downstairs in a private dining room. Remus didn't like that, and the Prince said he doubted Lord Dubois would do anything beyond bitch about how they could be eating at Southern Edge.

Food was brought to the room so Remus could eat. Clean and dressed in sleep clothes afterward, he peeked out onto the balcony. For all he knew, two of the Knights might be outside.

Since they'd been waiting for the Prince to arrive, they wouldn't even know about their home being in ruins. Meche was too far for any smoke to have been seen, and news doesn't always travel fast. They could have been anywhere and lurking on the streets to watch since a group of two hundred is rather noticeable.

Remus hadn't seen the face of the one he'd killed due to his helmet, so he'd never recognize one of the brothers. He knew they were big men which wasn't much help.

Once Sébastien returned, Remus was in bed. "Should one of us stay awake? If they can set Southern Edge on fire, they can set any place on fire."

"I rather doubt they'll try," said Sébastien. "To ensure my death, I'm sure they've paid for rooms there, and they've likely snuck in pitch or tar."

At night, once the innkeeper and any employees finally went to sleep, they'd spread some more around to ensure they had a nice blaze. With the inn on a bluff, the fire would be quite noticeable. By the time citizens got up there and started a waterline, it'd be too late.

"It'd be harder and less likely here," agreed Remus. "They'd have to get the pitch and tar out, bring it down here, and spread it around. More people are on the street outside. Since you're not staying there, they have no reason to set it on fire, and others staying there will be safe now."

"I know. We'll be going out later, so don't get too comfortable."

"Uh, where are we going?"

"You'll see."

"I'd prefer to know. I'm not a dog that's eager to follow just because you say so."

Sébastien raised an eyebrow. "You'll know when you know."

"Aren't I supposed to protect you? That means I should have more information. Also, I haven't done anything to screw with your plans before. I haven't proved that?"

Sébastien opened his trunk. "You can still protect me without knowing every damn thing. If someone tries to attack me in the street, break their neck. Don't argue with me."

Poking him would only arouse the anger, and Remus wasn't in the mood. He was tempted to get comfy in bed, roll over, and ignore any complaints that came his way.

Whatever it was, it was likely important. Sébastien wouldn't go on a nighttime walk for funsies, and they'd fight if Remus tried to ignore him. He got up to get clothes from his pack.

"When we're dressed, we'll turn off the lights and make it seem like we've gone to sleep."

***

The inn was quiet when they went downstairs after midnight and took a back door out. A slave with his ankle chained to a ring in the wall had a pallet by it.

"The word when you knock is orange, m'lords," the slave said before he closed the door and the lock slid into place.

When they returned, knocked, and said the word, he would let them in. That made Remus feel better since any old person couldn't sneak in and pretend to be a guest who'd gone out for a bit.

Outside, the cool, salty night air felt good on Remus's face. Both wore black cloaks and looked like any other commoner. He kept an eye out in case they were being followed. Pickpockets and other unpleasant folks lurked at night.

From what he could see in the starlight and the occasional torch or crystal lantern left outside, the city degraded as they walked. The only thing Remus could imagine Sébastien doing in the poor part was finding a contact for some sneaky plot.

They finally stopped outside of a blacksmith's shop, and Sébastien hammered on the door. Nobody answered, so he tried again.

"Can't you see I'm closed?" a voice called from above. Remus looked up to see an open window. "Can't a man get some sleep after working all day?"

"I've got a man who wants his collar off," Sébastien called up in an accent that sounded rough and more northern. "It's after midnight, and his sentence is officially up, so come down and let him have his freedom."

"Can't it wait until morning?"

"Would you want to wait until morning?"

"I don't commit crimes."

"I'll give you three lans, plus the collar and cuffs if that'll get you off your arse. They're gold."

The window squeaked as the blacksmith closed it. Remus stood frozen as he wondered if he'd heard that right.

"Don't get ideas," Sébastien said in a low voice. "You're still my slave, and running once that collar is off won't be a good idea. You haven't earned your freedom."

They were still on Soleilian soil, and every soldier in the group knew what Remus looked like.

"Why?"

"It'll make me look bad if we arrive in Midland, and I've got a slave. I'm sure the Middies have heard that you were sent to me."

"They'll guess who I am when they see me. Even if they've never laid eyes on me or a portrait, they'll figure out why you've got a big guy tagging around. Do you think you can fool them that easily?"

"That's why you're going to say I've freed you."

"You said you would." If it turned out he was lying and thought he was going to keep Remus later…

"I said you could earn it later, and we're certainly not done," Sébastien hissed.

Was he saying that because he was afraid Remus might think to walk away from him now and wanted to make him feel obligated to stick around so they could aid each other?

Remus shut his mouth as footsteps thumped closer. A big guy with a beard opened the door to the shop.

The blacksmith ushered them in. Sébastien kept his hood up and handed three lans to the blacksmith who quickly pocketed the money.

"Cut off his wrist cuffs too," Sébastien said, still speaking in the fake accent.

"You haven't got the keys for any of that stuff?"

"I bought him from Glornia. They filled the collar's keyhole with liquid gold."

The blacksmith eyed Remus. "Did you try to run before?"

"Maybe," said Remus, trying to use a Soleilian accent so he'd sound like he'd been in the Kingdom for a while at least.

"I lost the ones for the wrist cuffs," Sébastien added.

"Bloody fuck. How'd you lose the keys?" The blacksmith mumbled to himself as he went around this counter and to a backroom.

His merchandise consisted of a couple of plain swords, basic daggers, nails, hinges, metal pails, and a few other ready-made items that people could purchase if they didn't need something special.

The blacksmith came out with a pair of shears, although they were a lot bigger than the ones used for fabric. "Take off your cloak. I know it looks scary, but I won't lop off your head. Hopefully." He chuckled. "Sit on this stool here."

Remus didn't ask and simply thrust his cloak at Sébastien to take before he went around. The blacksmith gave no indication that he recognized Remus's face. He was just a guy who'd committed a crime and paid for it like any other criminal on Soleilian soil.

It wasn't comfortable when one side of the shears was worked under the collar opposite the hinge. Remus had to lean over a bit and tilt his head away. The blacksmith closed the shears in one smooth motion, and the metal grating against metal to snap the gold and lirek collar nearly sent a shiver down his spine.

The pressure was suddenly gone, and the collar hit the floor with a clank. It was finally off. On the other side of the counter, not a strand of Sébastien's hair had escaped the bun he'd put it in, and his hood obscured most of his face. Remus would still recognize that chin and mouth anywhere along with the stiffness in his lips.

Elira knew what he was thinking.

"Put a hand out," said the blacksmith.

He had to turn the shears a bit to get a blade under, and he managed them relatively quickly. They too fell, and Remus could use his magic once more.

Without the weight, he felt surprisingly light. He could walk around anywhere, and no one would think he was a slave. The blacksmith picked up the gold pieces and said they were good to go.

Out in the street, Remus touched his neck almost in disbelief before rubbing his wrists. As soon as the door shut, he was sure he noticed Sébastien's form tense beside him in the dark street.

With his magic, Remus could give him a solid punch to the face and shock him until he was laid out on the cobblestones. Once the Prince was drooling on himself, Remus could run. By the time Sébastien dragged himself back to the inn and told the others, Remus could be anywhere in the city and maybe even outside of it.

Getting on a ship alone would be hard. He had no money, and he'd rather not run from Meche and try to get by in Soleil while a group of two hundred went on a wild search for the Prince's escaped slave. His future depended on staying with Sébastien for a bit. If the Prince kept his word and allowed him to go later, which he'd better because his life depended on it too, he'd be glad he hadn't run off like an idiot.

"I'll give you some high-neck shirts," said Sébastien. "Wear them at all times. Lord Dubois will have a stroke if he sees you without the collar right now."

If he had shirts in Remus's size, he'd also planned this before they left the Palace. Like usual, he'd said nothing, and if Remus brought it up, he'd get a snarky response. "I'm supposed to say you freed me if the Middies ask?"

"Yes. Lord Dubois can have a stroke if he feels like doing so later."

"Am I always supposed to keep my sleeves down even if I get too hot?"

Sébastien paused. "If anyone notices, we'll say I allowed the cuffs to come off because the weight might impede you from wielding a sword against potentially furious Middies. Don't think this means you can do whatever you want. I still own you."

He paused as if daring Remus to tell him to fuck off or say anything defiant. Remus leaned down.

"You might have enslaved my body for a time, but you've never enslaved my mind or owned me. I think you know that. You don't own me no matter how much you hiss and bitch that you do."

"Run, and lose everything. Go ahead."

Sébastien needed him, but if Remus was to get his throne back, he needed help too. If the Prince wasn't lying, part of Remus didn't want to run away and leave him by the wayside either. If they kept their peace, did what they set out to do, and didn't lie, things could potentially work out in the end, right?

"You need me too," said Sébastien.

The silence crackled between them.

"Are you still going to keep your word about me earning my freedom later?" Remus continued. "Or do you think to pull a Quintus and trick me at the last second as some shitty, final bit of revenge for your family? Because if you do, you'll still never truly own me."

"I meant what I said."

Anyone could say that.