The next morning, Crow woke up on his own again. He sat up on his bed and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm, yawning tiredly and looking over the empty room. It still seemed rather early, based on both the soft light coming in through the window and the fact that Preston had yet to show up to wait on him. Suddenly, he blinked. Preston wasn’t here yet. That meant he still had a chance to get ready for the day without the attendant’s unnecessary help.
Encouraged by the thought, he climbed down from the bed and ambled over to the large wardrobe, where he had seen Hunter and Preston get his clothes before. However, when he opened the door, he paused. Having lived with just one set of clothes on his back for most of his life, it was overwhelming to have so many choices available. There was a variety of different garments—tunics, vests, surcoats, et cetera—that he had never worn before. It was strange to think that he had so many expensive shirts and trousers in his room, while there were some families in the outer villages who were dressing their children in burlap sacks.
“I’ll help you with that.”
Crow startled at the sound of a voice and turned around to see Preston walking toward him from the door. Apparently, in his distraction, the attendant had had enough time to show up in his bed chamber. He glanced back at the open wardrobe once more before taking a step away from it. Though he preferred to dress himself, he didn’t know enough about the clothes of nobleman to put together an ensemble that the other people in the castle would find acceptable. Normally he wouldn’t have cared if they approved or not, but he didn’t want to draw more attention to himself than he already did. Plus, it was just easier for the servant, who already knew what he was doing, to do the simple task for him.
Oh, gods. Am I becoming like them? He thought with a grimace as he realized he was actually starting to accept Preston’s help. Not wanting to dwell on it, he focused instead on paying attention to the clothes his attendant selected for him from the wardrobe, so he would be able to get better at doing the menial job for himself in the future.
When the boy handed the articles over to him, the viceroy changed clothes quickly and put on his boots to get ready for breakfast. However, he hesitated before heading for the door as his conversation with Naida and Penelope suddenly came back to him. When he went to the Great Hall today, neither his sister nor the knight was going to be there. The thought of spending a meal in the company of people who hated him made him reluctant to leave the room.
“Is there a problem?” Preston asked, noticing that he was lingering.
Crow shifted his weight. Despite his discomfort, he didn’t want to admit to the attendant that he was nervous about eating in the Great Hall without the two people he was familiar with. “No,” he lied, forcing himself to walk to the door. “I just remembered something. It’s not important though. Come on, I want to eat.”
Luckily, the boy didn’t question him any further, and Crow made it to the Great Hall without having to explain himself.
When they arrived, the viceroy wavered by the door, taking a moment to look for an empty table that was as far from the other nobles as he could get. When he found one, he wasted no time heading over to sit down. As always, the nobles he passed casted him dirty looks, and he avoided their gazes, in no mood to start a fight with anyone when he was so severely outnumbered. To his relief, he made it to the spot he’d been eyeing without any trouble.
Preston studied him curiously, and Crow didn’t doubt that the attendant was wondering why he was keeping to himself today. Fortunately, the boy had enough sense not to ask him about it. “Should I bring you your food?” he offered instead.
“Yeah,” Crow nodded, casting the servant a smile. “Thanks.”
Preston bowed and walked away, leaving him alone. Meanwhile, Crow propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand as he gazed out over the crowd of noblemen and women in the Great Hall. As he’d expected, the bustling castle felt much lonelier without Penelope and Naida around to keep him company. He hoped the day would go by quickly, so he wouldn’t have to be alone for much longer.
In a strange way, he got his wish.
“You look like you could use some company.”
Crow turned around in surprise as a familiar voice caught his attention. Penelope’s father, John, was approaching him from another part of the room. He shuffled his feet beneath the table, unsure how to act around the stoic man. After their last encounter had ended so badly, he wanted to restore his image to the older knight. “I guess so,” he shrugged, trying to act nonchalant despite the discomfort he felt about being alone with his lover’s father.
If John noticed his unease, he didn’t comment on it. The knight sat down across from him and folded his arms on the table, “I’ve been meaning to find you.”
“You have?” Crow swallowed nervously. He couldn’t think of very many reasons why Penelope’s father would be looking for him, and he doubted the knight had shown up to give him his blessing.
“Yes,” John nodded. “I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but I’m going to be in charge of some of your training. In order for me to do a thorough job, I’m going to need you to tell me a few things, so I’ll be better prepared to teach you.”
Crow felt his shoulders fall with relief. It seemed that the knight hadn’t come to reprimand him after all. “Oh,” he managed a weak smile. “What did you want me to tell you?”
“I need to know what skills you already have, as well as what you lack,” John said curtly. “To start, tell me a bit about what you know of fighting. Penelope told me you already have an understanding, but I’d like to know to what degree you can handle different weapons.”
“Well,” Crow drummed his fingers on the table as he thought. “I do know how to fight fairly well, in my own opinion. I’ve used a lot of different weapons too, like swords, daggers, bows… I even practiced a little with a flail that I stole from a knight once.”
“That’s good,” John said contemplatively. “And would you say you’re skilled with these weapons?”
“Not all of them,” Crow admitted. He felt a bit strange speaking about his weaknesses to a knight, and he had to remind himself that it was just for the purpose of getting better. “I find bows the easiest to use, but I prefer to fight up close with my enemies, so I’ve also spent a lot of time learning how to use daggers.”
“And how would you compare your skill with a knight’s?”
“It’s hard to say,” Crow shrugged. “I can usually hold my own in a fight, but I also rely on surprising my opponent to get ahead. It’s often worked for me during this war, since all the knights are just looking out for enemy colors. They never expect a peasant like me to swing a blade at them.”
John studied him thoughtfully, “And in a fair fight?”
Crow shifted his weight as he confessed hesitantly: “It’s harder for me to win when knights are prepared for my attack.”
“Then we’ll work on that,” John said matter-of-factly.
“Alright,” Crow glanced to the side as Preston brought out his food. The boy tested it quickly and walked away again, leaving the two men alone.
As they ate their breakfast, the viceroy snuck occasional glances at the older knight. It was still strange to him that the man had decided to join him for a meal. He supposed he should have been happy, since it seemed to mean that Penelope’s father was giving him a chance, but he couldn’t shake his worry that he was one tongue-slip away from setting John off again. Deciding to err on the side of caution, he kept his mouth shut and finished his food in tense silence.
When he was done eating, Penelope’s father stood up from the table, “I’ll start integrating physical training into your regimen sometime in the next few days. If I don’t see you again before then, Udolf will let you know when to expect it.”
“Okay,” Crow nodded, hesitating for a moment before he added: “Thank you.”
John just grunted in response and turned to walk away, leaving the viceroy behind as he left the Great Hall without another word. Once he was gone, Crow let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and got up as well. With no reason to stick around, he headed back to his room, hoping he wasn’t late for his next lesson with his ornery tutor.
