“A curse?” Doctor Eryne asked, stirring pork stew in the cauldron, “Now what will you do with it?”

“Everything I can.” said Saer.

She brought a spoonful of gravy near his mouth.

“Tell me if it needs more salt.” She said.

Saer ate it while the spoon was in her wrinkling fingers. Saer judged how he felt about it when the gravy reached to every taste-bud of his tongue.

“It’s good.” Saer said.

“Have you fed my horse?” she asked.

“Left a bundle of haystack before I went to bed last night.”

“Hmm…” she calculated, “Three hours to go and three more to return. He deserved some greenery in his fodder.” She went back to the oven.

“Today I will let him graze.”

“You still want to go there?” she said with ladle in her hand, “He is refusing to train you because-”

“- because he doubts I am not Braden.” Saer added.

“A low blood posing as a royal.” Eryne said, “Maybe you need to see rulebooks of Winstrova.”

She put a loaf of bread on table. Then came stew in her ceramic bowl. Saer, starving, picked spoon and scooped the biggest chunk of meat in the bowl. He remembered bread after two more pieces of tender meat.

“Today may not be like past two days.” She said while Saer was pinching the loaf.

“Could be better.” Saer said and dipped the entire thing in gravy.

“If you are caught, don’t take my name.” she sighed, “I am ready to lose one horse from my stable.”

“Can’t resist the urge to go there.”

“I don’t remember you talking about any urge when you woke up.”

“Because I didn’t have any then.” He scrubbed remaining gravy from last piece of bread and stuffed it in his mouth.

“Thank you for the breakfast, Doctor Eryne.” Saer said.

“Go, untie the horse.” She breathed.

Saer wiped his mouth and left the room. He passed through the crowd of people waiting for their checking then headed for the stable where he fixed the saddle tight on his chosen horse.