"Was sure I'd have to come wake you myself." The captain was an English guard who had fled after an attempt to assassinate the duke he worked for had failed. A dirty man, almost as crooked as his yellowed, incomplete teeth, Gawain deduced from their late-night talks while they enjoyed the calming waves, a jar of rum or ale each in their hands. The night before was one of those nights as Gawain had turned to ale instead to distract him of what laid ahead.
"Aye captain, I did nae drink that much." Gawain was polite at all times. Men who sailed were never to be trusted. "I’ve been told we’ll dock soon. Thank ye fer yer kind hospitality."
"And thank you for your kind donation, Sir MacLachlan, wasn't it?"
"Aye." Gawain toyed with a gold coin in his breeches before he handed it to the captain, not missing the wide eyes. No more words were said between them and frankly, Gawain hoped he never encountered the captain again.
The ship docked a few hours at sunrise and he hurried off along with the other passengers. It was times like this he was grateful that he did not own much. Slinging his bag over his shoulders, he was met by the familiar port. The ships for journey docked on one side, while ships for goods, sat on the other. The hustle and bustle of the docks was just as he remembered, nothing changed from when he left. Mindless chatter and shouts filled the air, there was the occasional fight breaking out between people or merchants. Gawain braced himself as he started his last journey to the clan's castle.
He stuck to walking rather than paying for a cart or horse ride. He sighted guards wearing the clan's tunic, each one with their head held high on their stress. They paraded the docks, market and even the forests. The village's population increased, the different and new sights at the market intrigued him, often pausing to see what a few merchants sold.
As he crouched down in front of a young girl who manned a space which sold beaded jewelry, a commotion broke out behind him. Hurrying to his feet to see what was the problem, he was surprised and angry to see a guard was the problem.
The guard had a young man by the front of his shirt. Gawain tapped on a woman's shoulder, asking about the problem and his anger flared at her words. "Nae, do nae worry. They do this all the time. The guard's horse was startled and it kicked away the boy's stall. They will leave him alone soon. It happened to me granddaughter a few days ago too."
"But this should nae be happening." Gawain was about to take a step forward but was held back by the woman who shook her head at him.
"It should nae but it’ll end fast if ye do nae interfere." The old woman warned as she let go of his arm.
"I was nae—"
"I can see it in yer eyes. Ye are angry. If you fight fer him now, they'll leave but they'll come back fer him. Ye might be long gone by then. Believe me, there is nothing ye can do to help but watch."
Gawain saw no reason to, other than the guards having a chance to abuse their power over the people but the woman was right. It wasn't his concern anymore. It was his brother's concern. It never was as his father had said. It took him years to realize it was the truth.
It wasn't his birthright, it wasn't his place, it wasn't his responsibility. He tried to make it his and he suffered for it. He had to be careful, trying too hard didn’t work for him the first time around. In the meantime, he’ll try to enjoy doing nothing.
Chapter Two
Davinia froze, forest green eyes widening at the loud crash that came from behind her. "Oh dear." She turned, slowly assessing the damage. It was a new servant so occurrences like that often came by. The servant girl had already begun to wail as she tried to salvage what was left of the spilt broth, but the liquid slipped from her fingers. Hurrying over to the girl, Davinia tucked her hands under the girl's and pulled her to her feet.
"Miss, I split it. I split the broth, miss. I did nae mean fer it to happen." The girl years running down the sides of her face, a slight vein popping out by her left temple. This earned a few snickers from the other servants as Davinia wiped off her tears with the back of her hand.
"Stop crying, child. It's only broth. Ye’re too young to carry something this big, didn't the cook tell ye? But it is fine, do nae fret." Davinia held the girl's hands to inspect them, frowning slightly at the redness of her palm. "Oh, ye burnt yerself. That's enough, go back to yer quarters, wrap a wet cloth around it. I'll see to ye once I tell the cook about the broth."
"But she will be angry with me, miss." The servant protested but Davinia turned the girl around and gave her a tap on the back to get going. She couldn't have anyone getting injured or upset over broth. She looked down at the broth and shook her head. She would have to hurry to the kitchen and have the cook make another one.
"Gwen, please clean this up fer me." Davinia hurried off to the kitchen after the order, meeting the head cook fretting over her stove. "Is there a problem?"
"Nothing I can't fix, miss." The woman replied, still not looking at Davinia. "Everything is going smoothly here. There's no need to hound us." Davinia plastered a toothy smile on her face as the woman turned to face her. "What?"
"Can ye make another broth?" She folded her hands behind her back as Gelda raised a greying eyebrow at her.
"What happened to the last one?"
"I split it. On accident."
"Or a servant split it and ye do nae want me to give them a scolding." Gelda scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest, head raised high.
"Yer scolding is rather harsh, Gelda. The girls are terrified."
"As they should be. Not every crying face is innocent, miss."
"Thank ye fer the advice, Gelda. And the broth."
"I never said I would make another broth!"
"But I ken ye will because ye would want yer dishes perfect and complete." Davinia teased lightly before the older woman cracked a smile.
