Roel knew he was being observed the moment he left the throne room. It could be inferred that after twelve years of service, his instincts had developed to such a point that he could sense even the most discrete glances. However, that was an absurd extrapolation made by the romantics. The simplest truth was that he was used to being gawked at and the person doing the gawking wasn’t doing the best job at staying unnoticed. He waited until he reached a small, empty courtyard before he confronted the person.

“What do you want from me?” he called out.

A boy with cropped black hair stepped out from behind a pillar. He wore a dark brown tunic that was a bit too short for his lanky body, and his wool cloak indicated that he was a servant. He had a wide, nervous grin.

“Damn, I knew I’d be caught, but still,” the boy said.

“Dagfinn?”

The boy was taken aback. “What? How’d you know my name?”

“Char –” he caught himself just in time, “you were with the prince, weren’t you?

Dagfinn nodded thoughtfully. “So, he was telling the truth, huh. He said he got to talk to you, but I told him he was dreaming.”

“He told you?” He spoke sharper than he intended. “I hope he hasn’t repeated this to anyone else.”

“No, no, he wouldn’t tell anyone else! He’s not that dumb.” Dagfinn was pretending to be nonchalant, but Roel saw that his left leg was slightly trembling.

“Did he send you to see me then?”

“No, and you can’t tell him.”

“Oh?” Roel waited for him to continue, but Dagfinn averted his gaze to the ground. A moment passed. And then another. He opened his mouth, then closed it, and then opened it again.

“Can you…uh, won’t you protect Prince Charles?” he stammered.

“What do you mean by that?”

“You…I mean, Sir Roel, it is imperative for you that your liege–”

“You can drop the formality.”

Dagfinn nodded. “For some reason, Charlie really respects you. More so than any other paladin. Last month, Sir Narcisse visited, and he came to speak to Charlie, but Charlie didn’t take to him at all. Said there was something wrong with his eyes.”

Roel held back a chuckle. Narcisse, the 41st Paladin, was often characterized in stories as handsome and charismatic. His exploits were often discussed most by young girls, but Roel knew better than to underestimate the man. Narcisse’s stories involved him charming some member of the gentry, but when stripped down to the facts those stories revealed a cunning nature in the man that was often overlooked.

They had worked together once, which was an anomaly because paladins were rarely assigned the same mission, and Roel recalled the calculating look on Narcisse’s face, his bright blue eyes a distraction from his more sinister qualities. It seemed that the prince could be discerning after all.

Well, to an extent. Roel sighed. “I don’t get it either. I’ve explained to him that I’m not as great as he thinks I am. I can’t go into detail but trust me. I’m not trying to be humble.”

“Yeah, you certainly don’t seem as great as Sir Orlando,” Dagfinn agreed, and Roel tried not to let it show that the comment had pricked him a bit. “I thought maybe he was drawn to your participation in the Battle of Wetshard, but he doesn’t seem as interested in it as he should be.”

Roel had thought the same. The Battle of Wetshard was his most notable accomplishment, but Charlie hadn’t asked too much about it on the balcony. “Well, what can I do for Charlie then? Is he in some sort of trouble?”

“No, I just think it’s important that he has supporters. Caroline is…”

“Princess Caroline?” He thought of the nervous young girl who had talked to him at the banquet. In Calorin, succession always went to the eldest son. After that was the eldest daughter. But recently, the queen had given birth to another boy. It was unlikely that she would become the queen.

Dagfinn shook his head. “I don’t have any evidence or any real doubts. But I think it’s important that the prince understood that he’s a…well, a prince. And there will be a time when he needs allies.”

Roel watched the boy carefully as he spoke, and he compiled everything he knew about him in his mind. Dagfinn: close friend to the prince, most likely due to his age and irreverent way of speaking, but a servant of unknown origin, nonetheless.

For him to approach Roel so quickly after the meeting…was it just a coincidence? His motive to help his friend seemed to be obvious, but that made it all that much more suspicious. Or was he overthinking it? Wasn’t he judging a child too harshly? He was so needlessly paranoid all the time.

Regardless, he truly didn’t have time for this. The quicker he reconvened with Prince Ghislain, the more time he had to assess the situation and come up with a plan.

“I will do everything in my power to protect the prince.”

“Yeah?” Dagfinn didn’t hide his frown. “But you say that kind of stuff all the time, don’t you?”

In return, Roel didn’t hold back his sigh. After less than two days in the palace, Roel had decided that he wasn’t going to have children any time soon. “Again, I’ll do what I can. But both of you severely overestimate my capabilities.”

That still didn’t satisfy the boy, but he gave a short bow. “Thank you.” He turned to leave, but then stopped short. “Oh, and Charlie said your eyes look down when you talk to people. He was right.” He ran off.

Roel wondered if that was some sort of cheap provocation from Dagfinn, but at the same time, he got irritated with himself for letting the comment affect him. He cleared his mind and thought about the logistics of what he had to do next.

Unfortunately, a carriage was out of the question. He would have to take a horse. Maybe restock on some supplies. At some point, he’d have to write and deliver a letter to Olivier to give him a general idea of where he was headed. As always, he wanted to tell him more, but he couldn’t. Letters could be intercepted.

He couldn’t say that he felt sad about leaving the palace so soon. All he had gotten from it was a harrowing meeting with the boy-prince and a possible death sentence. But as he made his way back to his room, there was a strange nostalgia that overtook him, and it was possible that he walked a little slower than usual.