The next morning was just as stressful as the last two had been for Crow. As was becoming normal, he woke up in a cold sweat, wide-eyed and trembling from the aftereffects of his recurring nightmare. He lowered his head into his hands as he tried to orient himself, panting to get his breath back. It took some time, although he wasn’t sure how much, before he finally came back to himself enough to realize where he was. Exhaling slowly, he let his hands fall to his lap again and looked up. His bed chambers were the same as the day before. There were no screaming villagers or bloodthirsty thieves. It had all been a dream again.

Off to the side, Preston sat at the table by the window, observing him with a strange look—pity, perhaps? Whatever it was, it only served to make the viceroy feel more embarrassed about being seen in his current state. He didn’t want to come across so weak. To be frightened into shock by a [i]nightmare[/i] of all things… it was pathetic. But unfortunately, there wasn’t much he could do to hide it. His terror gripped him too firmly for him to act like everything was fine.

Once the attendant saw that he had calmed down, he stood up and stepped over to his bedside. “Water?” he offered, tentatively holding out a full glass that he had brought to the room.

Crow eyed the drink for a moment without moving. His pride wanted him to turn down the offer just to be obstinate—he could take care of himself, after all—but his sore throat was a bit more persuasive. He took the glass with a quiet “thanks” and lifted it to his lips, downing the whole thing in a few large gulps.

Preston dipped his head in response. A brief quiet fell between them before he spoke again in a hesitant voice, “So… are you still not going to tell me what’s going on?”

Crow shook his head, “There’s no point.”

“I wouldn’t tell anyone else, you know,” Preston frowned. “If it’s because you’re worried I’ll start a rumor—”

“It’s not that,” Crow interrupted, averting his gaze. “It’s just not something I take any pleasure in discussing, so I’d rather not talk about it at all… not to you or anyone else.”

The attendant pursed his lips, seeming ready to keep pressing him for information. However, after a moment, he let out a sigh instead. “Fine,” he relented. He shifted his weight slightly before adding: “I just want you to know that if you ever decide you want to share this burden, whatever it is, with someone else… you can trust me.”

Crow turned toward him again, slightly surprised by the offer. He wasn’t used to other people volunteering to “share his burdens” so selflessly. Even when he’d lived with the other thieves, they had all kept to themselves unless their burdens had impacted anyone else. It was strangely warming to know that the servant cared enough to make such a gesture.

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” he said genuinely. Even though he doubted he would choose to open up about the traumatic parts of his past to Preston, he wanted the boy to know that he wasn’t closing the door all the way.

Preston nodded, seeming satisfied. “Would you like to get dressed for breakfast?” he asked, moving on from the subject now that they had reached something of an agreement.

“Yeah,” Crow swung his legs over the edge of the bed and then froze, wincing suddenly.

“Are you alright?” Preston knitted his brow.

“I’m fine,” Crow answered, wrinkling his nose as he rubbed his side. “That Vermillion just bruised me pretty good yesterday.”

“Oh,” the attendant studied him thoughtfully. “Do you need help?”

“No. I can get dressed by myself.”

“If you say so.”

With a bit of effort, Crow climbed down from the bed and made his way over to the wardrobe to get ready. It took him longer than usual, since he had to move carefully to keep from straining the various bruises on his body, but he managed to dress himself without assistance. Once he was ready to go, he and Preston headed to the Great Hall for breakfast.

--

“No, no, definitely Priscilla.”

Crow rested his chin in his palm and sighed softly. Since Penelope was busy that morning, he had sat down at a table with Wayne, Robyn, and a couple other noblemen he didn’t know. So far, the group had spent most of the meal discussing which noblewomen they were trying to court and bickering whenever they found out two of them were vying for the same woman’s attention. The viceroy found the conversation to be boring. Perhaps if he didn’t already have Penelope, he would have been more interested in talking about women, but as things were, it wasn’t really a topic he could participate in.

As the others went on, he turned his attention to his food, popping a bite of bread into his mouth and chewing slowly as his mind wandered to his upcoming lesson with Udolf. He wondered what the old man was going to teach him next, since he had already made so much progress with his ability to read and write. He felt like he had even reached a point where he could virtually teach himself what he didn’t know—aside, of course, from punctuation, which still confused him quite a bit.

He was so caught up in his musings that he didn’t hear Robyn address him.

“Hey, Collin,” the nobleman gave his shoulder a prod. “Are you still with us?”

“Huh?” Crow blinked.

Robyn smirked, “I asked you what your type is.”

“My type?” the viceroy echoed confusedly, having disengaged from the conversation long enough that he didn’t know what the noble was talking about.

“Yeah,” the other man grinned. “You haven’t said a word about any of the women we’ve brought up. What kind of ladies suit your fancy?”

Crow took a moment to think. He already knew the answer—he’d figured out his “type” long ago—but he was still hesitant to talk about himself to other people. He didn’t like letting them know any more about him than they already did. But, then again, what was the harm in sharing what sort of women he was attracted to? It was harmless information as far as he could tell.

“Well,” he started slowly, drawing the rest of the table’s attention when he spoke up. He guessed they were all curious to find out if the opinion of a former peasant was different than their own. “I suppose my ideal woman would be brunette. She’d have fair skin with a little color from the sun to show that she isn’t afraid of spending time outdoors, and she’d have a kind smile. Of course, I’d like her to have curves too, but I’d also want her to be fit enough to keep up with me in more strenuous activities.” The other men whistled suggestively at that, and Crow blushed. He had been thinking of the occasional escapades he’d had to perform in the outer villages when he’d made the comment. However, he supposed their interpretation hadn’t really been wrong though, so he didn’t bother to correct them.

“I think you’d really like Bethany,” Robyn proposed. “She’s the daughter of a baron from Bexley, and she’s not afraid to get her hands dirty.”

“Or Alice,” another man suggested.

“Maybe he should even join your pursuit of Priscilla,” a third man nudged Robyn teasingly. “She’s just as adventurous as Bethany.”

Robyn blanched, “W-Well, I think he’d like Bethany better, since Priscilla is blonde…”

“You’re just scared she’ll pick him over you because he’s a viceroy,” the other man laughed, making Robyn turn red.

“It doesn’t matter who she’d pick,” Wayne rolled his eyes. “I’ve already introduced Collin to Mercia, and they got along great, right?” He turned expectantly to Crow, who was staring at them wordlessly.

As the noblemen continued to argue amongst themselves, the viceroy sank a little further down in his seat. He hadn’t expected them to start giving him suggestions, but he supposed he should have known better. He and Alistair had had similar conversations in the past, but neither of them knew enough women in the outer villages to give each other ideas. These men seemed to know the names of all the women in the castle. He wished he could just tell them that he was already with someone else, but he was still hesitant to reveal his relationship with Penelope to anyone else yet.

He was just beginning to figure out how he was going to get out of the mess he’d landed himself in, when the table suddenly quieted of its own accord. Crow glanced between the other noblemen curiously, wondering why they had fallen silent, and then blinked as he realized they were all staring at something over his shoulder. Turning around in his seat, his eyes widened slightly when his gaze fell on his father. He’d never seen Albin come to the Great Hall outside of a banquet.

“Ah, Collin, I was hoping I would find you here,” the king said, seeming amused by the other men’s reaction as he approached their table.

“Did you need something?” Crow asked.

“Yes,” Albin nodded. “I’ve got a task for you today. If you’re finished eating, I’ll need you to come with me.”

“Alright,” Crow stood up from the table and glanced at the others with a shrug. “Guess I’ll see you blokes around some other time.”

“R-Right,” Robyn said distantly, watching the king with a mixture of surprise and reverence.

“See you later, Collin,” Wayne was no better as he kept his gaze fixed on Albin.

The viceroy rolled his eyes, finding their reactions to be a bit extreme. His father may have been the king, but he was still a man. These nobles were acting like they were in the presence of a god. [i]He’s not even close to that,[/i] he thought, sneaking a glance at Albin as he thought about his encounter with Aeklora two years ago.

“Come along,” the king beckoned for his viceroy as he turned back to the exit of the Great Hall.

Crow followed at his heel, curious to find out what sort of task his father planned to give him.