Felix smiled. "Aren't you going to ask for my medallion? For proof?"
"Oh! Yes, please," and the lad flushed, looking away so that Felix practically had to thrust the medallion under his nose to get him to look at the damn thing long enough to recognise its insignia.
One side bore a sword much the same as the one he carried, bisecting a teardrop-shaped shield; once turned over the mark of the King was engraved upon the other side, the crowned horse and quartered elements with a star above. It was always heavier than Felix expected, though that was likely due to the rarity with which he handled it. Usually he kept it in its pouch at his waist and tried to forget about it.
The Guard looked at the gold shining in Felix's palm but did not pick it up, simultaneously seeming both captivated and desperate not to breathe on it. He looked up, and the wretched look on the lad's face was enough to force Felix to hold in a laugh. "Honestly, sir," the lad said, holding his hands up in defeat and stepping back, "I wouldn't be able to tell a fake from the real thing if Divine Va'anya flew in on a swan and told me her own self."
Felix tucked the coin back into its pouch and swung his foot up into the stirrup, mounting up again in one swift motion. Arrow was well-enough trained to skitter only a little across the cobbles in protest at the renewed weight, well enough to settle when Felix put his hand on the strong curve of his neck. "There's not many as would." He nodded more formally, touched a hand to his forelock where his hair was getting just long enough to start to curl. "The Master will know. Which way to the castle proper?"
"Up, sir. Your Grace, sir. Well, most everywhere is up in Bonnea, sir." The Guard stepped back to let him pass, saluting smartly as he did. "An honour to have you here, your Grace, sir."
Felix looked back over his shoulder just before he passed back into the sunlight at the far end of the passage, and smiled. "None of that, man, I work for a living. Call me Felix."
"Oh! Yes, please," and the lad flushed, looking away so that Felix practically had to thrust the medallion under his nose to get him to look at the damn thing long enough to recognise its insignia.
One side bore a sword much the same as the one he carried, bisecting a teardrop-shaped shield; once turned over the mark of the King was engraved upon the other side, the crowned horse and quartered elements with a star above. It was always heavier than Felix expected, though that was likely due to the rarity with which he handled it. Usually he kept it in its pouch at his waist and tried to forget about it.
The Guard looked at the gold shining in Felix's palm but did not pick it up, simultaneously seeming both captivated and desperate not to breathe on it. He looked up, and the wretched look on the lad's face was enough to force Felix to hold in a laugh. "Honestly, sir," the lad said, holding his hands up in defeat and stepping back, "I wouldn't be able to tell a fake from the real thing if Divine Va'anya flew in on a swan and told me her own self."
Felix tucked the coin back into its pouch and swung his foot up into the stirrup, mounting up again in one swift motion. Arrow was well-enough trained to skitter only a little across the cobbles in protest at the renewed weight, well enough to settle when Felix put his hand on the strong curve of his neck. "There's not many as would." He nodded more formally, touched a hand to his forelock where his hair was getting just long enough to start to curl. "The Master will know. Which way to the castle proper?"
"Up, sir. Your Grace, sir. Well, most everywhere is up in Bonnea, sir." The Guard stepped back to let him pass, saluting smartly as he did. "An honour to have you here, your Grace, sir."
Felix looked back over his shoulder just before he passed back into the sunlight at the far end of the passage, and smiled. "None of that, man, I work for a living. Call me Felix."
