All men must serve, that was the holy law of the order. But as Rodry adjusted the heavy grey plate of his armor, he couldn't help but think the Father never intended for those in power to be such an insufferable bitch about it.
Most knights would have wept with joy to be assigned the personal protection of the Prince's heir, yet Rodry felt only the dull ache of a mounting migraine. Had he known that catching a glimpse of the boy sneaking through the camp would result in this, he would have kept his mouth shut and let the fucking boy be.
He should have stayed silent and let some other poor bastard find the "thief," but fate had a cruel sense of irony. The golden boy had asked his father for a new toy, and the Prince had acquiesced; as for the toy's opinion?Who cares.
For a time, Rodry had actually feared that Basil desired him dead. As dead as the soldiers that during the siege of the Bastion had simply... disappeared while scouting or foraging. But sense eventually took hold.
