The Urchin and the Prince [Ava & Eyesoffire]

The white walls of the palace gleamed in the moonlight, elegant conical towers stretching high into the sky, looming over the city as giant icy watchmen. High walls ring the vast collection of buildings that constituted the royal family’s residence, housing along with them a small army of servants. Perched upon the top of a sprawling hillside, the palace had become the centrepiece of the great capitol. Walled gardens and luxurious estates were built into the slopes, sparse at first before growing more numerous in number, clustering together to form the upper district of the city.

Here the wealthy wined and dined, an expansive town square ever bustling with markets and street entertainers. The wide main road was lined with a multitude of shops; a jeweller, a clothier with a tailor next door, an establishment selling sweet smelling soups and candles, a baker and so forth. You name it; the rich had access to it. Their homes were warm and well furnished; their bellies full and every appetite sated.

A cathedral dominated a good portion of the district, accompanied by an expansive graveyard and family crypts for the noble lines which had held positions of high status within the Kingdom for centuries. The bells toll regularly to signal the hours of the day, to celebrate the nuptials of the wealthy or commemorate the passing of an influential Lord.

Between this district and its lower, and poorer, counterpart a wall has been built, separating the classes from each other. While poverty is rampant within this layer of the city, it is also the center of production where blacksmith’s, butchers, carpenters and sculptors hold establishments within the lower market square. Those with a trade are spared the horrors of the capitol’s slums, townhouses and Inns encircling the center of commerce before the buildings grow smaller and less well kept.

Finally these give way to the ramshackle shacks and lean-tos, populated by the poorest and vilest citizens the kingdom has to offer. As the years have progressed so too has the boundaries of the slums expanded, with more and more buildings falling into ill-repair. Here the city guards are rarely seen, thieves and charlatans given free rein to terrorise those already desolate and disillusioned.

~~~~~

Winter had established a hold upon the Kingdom, sinking its cruel talons into the capital and blanketing all in a layer of frost. The streets of the upper and lower district were near enough deserted, nobles shut away behind elaborate doors, languishing in their cushioned chairs before roaring fires, while tradesmen worked to replenish their stocks and shut up their shops. Patrolling guards huddle beneath their armour as they walked the wide, freshly swept cobbles, their breath floating away from them in clouds.

The narrow, blackened streets of the slums were far more occupied. Small groups huddled around rusting brazier’s, tugging at the layers of thread-bare cloth draped around their malnourished bodies. A candle flickers dimly within a red stained glass lantern, one of the panels cracked and broken, swaying lazily in the breeze as it lit the entrance to one of a number of seedy establishments in that particular area of town.

Boisterous laughter spilled out into the street, a drunken dirge echoing up into the night air, as the door was thrown open violently, permitting three men out into the frigid cold. The first drew a heavily patched cloak tighter about his shoulders, gesturing for his two companions to follow as he stepped into the mouth of a dimly lit alleyway.

“You were not followed?” The question was directed to a slender figure clad entirely in dark fabric that swirled about him, his face concealed beneath the shadow of a heavy hood. A laugh followed, cold and hollow as the mouth of the cowl turned toward the one who had spoken - a broad-shouldered male, the lower half of his face covered in a good few days worth of stubble.

“Your concern for my safety is touching, but I can assure you I was not followed.” His diction was unusual for this part of the town, yet neither of his companions seemed at all concerned nor surprised. “Regardless, all has been prepared. I simply require the package I trust you have, Rymos.” All eyes shifted to the third man who, as of yet, had not spoken and instead chose to watch the dimly lit street.

With a grunt, the man named Rymos – a bald and tanned male - fished a filthy handkerchief from his pocket, brushing back the material to reveal a vial nestled within.

The hooded noble snatched it up, stowing it away beneath his cloak. “I will play my part, the King will be face down within his dinner by the end of the festivities the morrow. Then it will be up to-...” A side door flew open with a bang, spilling light into alleyway and dispelling the shadows abruptly. Within the doorway stood a young man, an apron tied about his waist and a plate of half clean chicken bones clutched in one hand.

Turning, the three men stared down the thin passage way to find that their conversation had been witnessed by another. In the circle of light cast by the open door a figure knelt huddled by a nearby crate, eyes wide and face smeared with dirt. With a snarl, the noble man pushed his way past his two companions, disappearing from sight with a muttered order. “Deal with this.” In response, the other two stepped forward to bar any exit from the alleyway, a smirk creeping across Rymos’ lips as his dark eyes settled upon the scrawny little urchin, recognition flickering across his face. “Well, well, well...Hello Ells..”

The serving boy spared a glance between the two men and the girl before backing up and drawing the door closed once more, plunging the alley into darkness once more. There was a moment of stillness, the urchin’s barely visible eyes fixed upon the two men who simply stared back. All three moved at once, both men charging forward with fingers outstretch to snag the girl while the urchin darted left then right, throwing herself to the ground and scrambling between the legs of the broad-shouldered stranger.

A foot struck out at her leg, knocking her to the floor with a groan and a cry, grubby fingers clawing at the cobbles as she scrambled away. Somehow she found her feet, plunging into the night with the sound of heavy footsteps echoing off the walls behind her and her own ragged breathing echoing in her ears.

He watched his breath rise up into the dark sky, it was as if his soul was escaping. Nevertheless, Crispin looked on. His left hand rested on the hilt of a sword resting upon his hip. The blade was strong and sharp, its hilt, grip and pommel all elaborate. He knew how to use it, though not to the degree that he would like. He remained upon one of the many balconies of the great palace, leaning against the rail and facing down the hill. He watched the tiny lights flicker in the distance and occasionally heard a voice or two, some of the servants were still working hard.

He wore no less than three layers of fur cloaks, something he found to be distasteful. His love of animals was a trait his father did not share, his mother, on the other hand was over-protective, smothering him until he was literally blue in the face. The last time had been his return from a royal hunting trip not three days ago. Once the queen had heard that he son had been hunting boar instead of stags that was it. She hugged him close and ran her fingers through his black hair as she spoke about Hardian the Long, whose reign was cut short when he had an accident during a boar hunt. His title a cruel mockery of the length of his reign.

"Do not waste breath on ancestors, mother." Crispin had said, pulling away from her. "I am a man, I know the risks and father would wish me to keep my head in the present."
The Queen mother smiled at him. "Your father wishes many things of you." She walked away without a word. It was true, he was a man, not a day younger than 21 summers.
Crispin snapped back to the present with a blink. From here the city looked peaceful, calm and quiet in the dead of winter's night. He knew it was anything but and the large shadow that loomed up from behind him was a constant reminder of that. Bor was clearly the biggest man in the city, he stood almost 7 feet, arms as thick as tree trunks. A thick red beard, cut short, grew on his lower square jaw and peaked out from below his full helmet. He was fully clad in armour from head to toe and Crispin knew that beneath it was no more than his own skin. If the man was experiencing discomfort then he never showed it.
"The queen wants me in bed?" Crispin asked quietly, looking up at his personal bodyguard.
Bor stared at him for a moment and let out a grunt of laughter. "No. I only came to see how you were doing." His voice resonated within his helm and when he was tired and breathing hard he sounded like a bull in a steel pen, his breaths becoming audible and echoing off the metal. Crispin's relationship with Bor had changed over the years, he became more of Crispin's soldier than his mother's. He would confide in Bor and trust that the man would not say anything. It worked out well, there were many things he wished to talk about and Bor was the man to listen. While Bor provided Crispin with the necessary training in combat.

"That is a surprise." Crispin said, crossing his arms. The livery he wore was fine and meant to stand the cold, so that's what Crispin did, he stood in the cold. If there was one thing his father liked about Crispin, it was that he was tolerable of his surrounding circumstances and that he showed no outward sign of his displeasure or otherwise, not until the moment was right.
He turned to Bor and pursed his lips before speaking. "Perhaps a ride through the grounds and near the wall would do me some good."
"I am unsure of that my prince-"
"I am not. Stay here then...I'll be fine on my own tonight."
"My prince I-"
"You'll do nothing. Just pretend I'm in my room and make my parents think the same."

Bor only nodded and walked off, the huge town-handed axe that hung on his back gleamed in the moonlight. Crispin watched him go before moving down to the stables.

A barrel toppled, clattering against the frozen cobbles sharply followed swiftly by a string of curses, an intoxicated tramp struggling to right himself after a bundle of tatter fabric and fear had run head long into him. The girl stumbled, staggering from the impact yet somehow managing to maintain her footing to plunge on down the dimly lit street. Her two pursuers were hot on her heels, their misted breath hanging behind them in the frigid night air as they threw aside the unsteady stranger who had inadvertently lumbered into their path. Ells swung right sharply, almost slamming straight into the wooden wall of ramshackle lean to before pushing off the rough surface and surging on.

Poorly shod feet slapped loudly against the hardened filth beneath her feet, each step sending sharp stabs of prickling pain up thin legs, numbness long since having settled into the girl's bones. Teeth clenched, her breath coming out in ragged gasps as she took another turn and then another. The spaces between the buildings were gradually beginning to grow wider, the building themselves in better repair, confirming that she was drawing closer to the lower market square as she had hoped. Just as the street opened up into the vast empty space, hard stone giving away to the shadows of untended market stalls, something heavy struck solidly between her shoulder blades, pitching her forward violently.

The cold ground rushed up to meet her. Her fragile body slamming into the cruel stone in a tangle of limbs and tattered fabric, forcing the air from her lungs in a single agonising rush. Darkness pricked at the back of her eyes, every nerve raw to the pain that coursed through her and the icy terror that fell over her with the shadows of the two men. "Little bitch..." Rymos spat, swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand before sucking in a deep lungful of crisp air before stooping to get a grasp of the girl's tangled dark locks.

His fingers never found their purchase however, for no sooner had he begun to bend than he staggered backward with a howl of pain. A foot had lashed out violently, all the girl's might focused upon sending her foot into the middle of the bald man's shin, enough to create a brief window for escape. It was enough. Ells clawed at the ground, feet scrambling to gain purchase as she almost fell face first onto the cobbles again. She staggered, an arm clutching at her side as she caught her balance and began to move again, half running and half stumbling, legs heavy and sluggish. Rymos was cursing, his voice carrying across the empty square as he instructed his caped companion to give chase.

By now, the girl had reached the other side of the courtyard and disappeared from sight, feeling desperately along the wall of the nearest building. She glanced up. The high wall of the upper district towered above her, a silent and resolute remainder that she was not welcome upon the cleanly swept cobbles of the wealthy and influential. Heavy footsteps grew louder, drawing closer. Expression set in grim determination, Ells pushed off from the wall she had been leaning on and began to run again, as fast as her weary body would allow, following the road that swept up to and past the nearest gate, hugging the shadows as best she could.

The high arch came into view between the buildings, lit by a number of flickering torches secured firmly within their brackets, illuminating the figures of a number of guards milling about in an effort to remain warm. With what energy she had left, the girl put on a burst of speed and was upon the gate before any of the watchmen even noticed. A shout went up, figures began moving toward her but she stumbled on, head down, ignoring them. She passed by the heavy wooden doors, great slabs of wood held together by iron, laid open and unbarred. Fingers suddenly snagged at her arm, a firm leather-clad hand taking hold and whirling her round sharply, a nearby torch providing a warm glow by which both urchin and guard could see each other.

"Oi, two more...look lively lads." Her head snapped back toward the way she had come just as Rymos and his companion stepped into the torch-light, a self-satisfied smirk touching his lips. She was caught, trapped. The guard would bundle her back into cheap side and into the bald thug's waiting arms.

~~~~

Ells paused and turned to look back down the winding road she had been staggering up for the past half hour. Below her the districts of the city sprawled out on all but one side, faint lights winking in the stillness of the night. Behind her the palace loomed still higher, many windows still illuminated with the glow of a multitude of candles. It was beautiful, even from this distance - away form the sights and smells of poverty - the slums looked almost quaint. Thin fingers raked through the tangled wisps of hair that floated idly in the wind that had began to pick up the higher she climbed.

She wasn't sure how she had managed to get this far - fate, the gods, pity, or simply good fortune, whatever it was she truly didn't care. All she knew was the guard's grip upon her arm loosened, for whatever reason, sufficiently that she had been able to wrench herself free and bolt before anyone had a chance to stop her. Rymos, enraged that his prey had slipped the net, had violently shoved one of the guards out of his path, resulting in the full attention of all watchmen to fall upon both men. Whether they had eventually got passed or not Ells didn't know, but the delay had allowed her to put a good deal of distance between herself and them. Enough to buy her some time to consider her options.

While the streets of the upper district had been near deserted during her hurried passage through them, she knew all too well what would happen to any unfortunate soul found begging on these streets. In theory, the pickings were certainly better; if you could find a noble woman with half a heart you were in for a rather generous amount of coin. Unfortunately in practice, you'd be lucky if you escaped with anything less than a few bruises. The guards, as well as the citizens, within this part of the city were merciless when it came to the poor and down trodden - even the youngest of beggars beaten to within an inch of their lives, and sometimes beyond.

Neither could she return to the slums, or any of the lower district for that matter. Ells knew Rymos and Rymos knew her, as well as a good many others that frequented those dirty streets. She'd be lucky if she lasted a day without him catching up with her. So she had only one option; to throw herself on the mercy of the palace guards and hope that the information she carried would buy her something, even if that was only a night in the cells.

~~~~

This gate was far better guarded than the last, well disciplined men clad in armour and cold stares stamped their feet and strode back and forth in an attempt to build some warmth into their bodies. One of the heavy doors had been bolted shut, the gap left by the unsecured door well manned. There would be no slipping by these men. In fact even as Ells made her painful approach, a shout rang out from one of the sentries posted upon the wall and before she had barely had a chance to step into the circle of light provided by the torches a voice called out to her. "State your business." It was a command, not a request. An order, not a question. The girl stopped, still cradling her side as she took a moment to try and slow her ragged breathing.

"I-...I have a message..." Her voice cracked and broke, wavering pitiably, "...For the King." No sooner had she finished than several of the nearest men began to laugh, another voice repeated her request loudly and obnoxiously. More laughter followed. The girl felt an anger stir within her, an indignation at being so simply dismissed. "It's important!" She raised her voice, trying to shout over the sound of their mocking, stepping further into the circle of light which only seemed to ignite the men's mirth further upon seeing her tatty clothing and generally grubby appearance. Ells felt her cheeks flush, her jaw tighten. She had risked her life for this. "There is a plot to kill him!"

The mood changed drastically, what had been amusement at her expense now became cold indifference, expressions growing stern. "Mind your words, filth. Threaten the King again and I will have your head."

"No, not me but someone else-..." Her persistence was cut short, an armoured guard stepping forward to meet her as she took another tentative step forward.
"Enough. Crawl back to your hole, wretch. We aren't listening to your tales.." When she made no move to leave, the man sneered, grabbing a handful of her rags and shoving her backward forcefully. Ells just barely managed to maintain her balance, stumbling before straightening herself and standing her ground, pale leaf green eyes lifting to stare up into the face of the stranger.
"Someone is going to poison him, I heard them say it!" The second push was far more forceful, sending the girl sprawling onto the ground to the sound of snickering and jeers.



(Eh...Sorry, that got stupidly long >.< I'm not sure i'll ever post that much again, unless you particularly enjoy reading )

Crispin silently moved through the palace, it was one of his guilty pleasures to move through the city at night and even once or twice he had gone into the impoverished areas looking at the people and their lives there. Of course his family assumed such a rabble would tear their only child apart and so never allowed him more than two steps from the inner wall if he was unguarded. He knew that his father's fear of the people was right, they far outnumbered the rich and their army. Were there to be a revolt, the royal family wouldn't last too long. But there were structures in place that held the people back, at least in Crispin's father's mind. In the capitol the soldiers numbered no more than 1000 strong, however this was one city and not nearly a fraction of the entire kingdom's strength. Nearby cities governed by loyal and noble lords housed thousands of more troops and if their might descended upon the capitol then a massacre would follow.

However only once did Crispin think such thoughts, he knew better than to entice the poor people, they needed so much and he had lots to offer, yet the upper-class citizens thought little of their poorer counterparts. But Crispin had learned much, the truth of the state of the lower city. He knew when his father's lords lied to him about the lower city, they'd say it was fine, stable, or that poverty had decreased and there were more smiles on people's faces. It was the opposite, there were no smiles, and the weather had nothing to do with it. Crispin had been there in the middle of summer and still people were starving. The world was still so attractive, so different and interesting, something new around the corner. His observation of how people survived on sometimes the most pitiful of scraps was a wonder to him. He felt a pang of sorrow intermingled with interest and fascination.

Crispin had found his way to the stables and taken his gorgeous black stallion from it's stall, loaded it with a new saddle and mounted the steed before walking it quietly down to the lower gates. The only sound heard as he moved was the clopping of his horse's hooves upon the clean cobblestone. The moon came out from behind the clouds and covered everything in a blue light for a moment and Crispin's path was illuminated by more than just firelight. He moved slowly, riding deliberately in a single direction.
That was when he heard the laughing.

It came from just outside the nearest gate and he urged the horse into a trot until he had reached the area through a seldom used postern gate. The scene before him was not something he was expecting. The soldiers were clearly overpowering the person in rags and when it fell he could tell it was a girl from the sound. He rode up quietly and slowly and leaned down, his arms crossed over the neck of his horse and he looked down at the Urchin. Crispin pursed his lips and looked back at the surprised guards. They stared at him in awe until one man swallowed and cleared his throat. "My prince, we did not see you. This...uncouth swine suddenly appeared and well we decided to prevent it's further advance-"

"You did well, soldier." Crispin said quietly, raising his hand. "You did your job the way my father wished it to happen." He looked down at the girl. "You two." He pointed to two different men. "Bring her into the kitchens of the palace. Surely a poor person such as this could not have gotten to this point without some sort of help or some force to drive her." He looked back at the girl for a moment before turning his horse and riding to the palace.

The ground was as solid and unforgiving as before, halting the momentum of her fall with prompt abruptness. She expected pain, the sharp stab ushered in by her fragile figuring slamming into the frozen earth, but all she felt was a heavy numbness, a deep cold that sunk into her very bones. All her energy had been exhausted in the walk up here, she didn't have the strength to lift herself and so she lay still. The guards' voices sounded distant, muffled and far away, before a rough boot dug into her side, rolling her onto her back carelessly. Perhaps her lack of movement had concerned the guards enough to check that she was still alive, but any further interference, help or hindrance, was interrupted by the arrival of a large blurred shape that looked remotely horse shaped.

Perhaps if she had known who sat peering down at her, she would have felt some form of comfort, but instead all that settled over her was a uneasy sense of dread. Figures suddenly loomed over her, hands taking hold of her arms and dragging her upward, off the frozen earth until her feet were hanging in mid-air. The heavy stone archway of the gate towered over them as they passed beneath it, armoured boots thudding rhythmically against the ground as they carried her off to her fate.

Ells assumed that she was bound for the cells; a straw-covered floor to sleep on, stale bread and water to eat - it sounded like heaven. So you can imagine the girl's surprise when she was carried into the expansive room that housed the palace kitchens, the warmth of a large and well-built fireplace washing over her as they stepped through the door. Even at this late hour servants were busy peeling, chopping and dicing while a rather portly red faced woman, who appeared to be very much in charge, kept a watchful eye on them all. Upon the arrival of the two palace guards and the bundle of ragged cloth, she turned and looked over them, clucking like a disapproving mother. "Prince Crispin wished her to be brought here, he probably wants her fed..."

The cook cut him off with the wave of a dismissive hand and directed them to the end of a long table nearest the fire, "Sit her there, Rebecca fetch a couple slices of one of the loaves we baked early, and a few good thick slices of cheese...quickly now." One of the servants scurried into action, abandoning her previous task to fetch the necessary items as the guards dragged Ells round and deposited her upon one of the benches. "Emily, a blanket for our guest, hmm? She looks chilled to the bone." Stubby fingers pushed back the tangled mop of Ells hair, the woman's kind eyes settling upon the urchin's face as violent shivers shook her slim body. Within a matter of moments the girl was bundled up in a thick blanket, sitting next to a roaring fire with a plate of two slices of bread as thick as the cook's finger and several slices of cheese equally thick. The cook also poured a rather generous amount of honeyed mead into a tankard and set this before Ells as well, a fact that left the two guards grumbling between themselves as they stood in the corridor awaiting to be dismissed.

As of yet she hadn't touched any of it, despite the hunger the knotted her stomach. Instead she sat, hunched over the table with the blanket pulled tightly about herself, teeth chattering faintly as her eyes sweep feverishly from person to person.

When Crispin arrived in the kitchens a good 10 minutes had passed by. He had veered away from the kitchens in order to fetch Bor. The man had other skills that could be put to use if necessary. Bor was found in his own room, carving the second of a pair of figures. It was the man's hobby, he had regularly said that if he wasn't to become a solider he'd have been a woodcarver.
"Is that you're wife, or your daughter that you're working on tonight?" Crispin asked, standing by the room door, watching Bor carve the fingers of a right hand. "My wife." He replied softly. "I hope you don't mind if I bother you." Crispin said, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. Bor stopped and rose, grabbing his weapon. "I knew riding about on your own would land you in some sort of situation."
Crispin chuckled. "Well it's not necessarily a bad one, see for yourself. It won't take long, I promise."

They descended into the kitchens soon after with Crispin making Bor swear that he'd tell none of this to his parents. This wasn't new to Bor, he'd kept many of Crispin's secrets, however Crispin ensured that the ones he was made to keep were always benign and harmless. Crispin looked to the guards first, as they entered the kitchen. "Make up your mind, men, you either grab something quick to eat and leave, or you go back to your posts now." The guards looked at one another and took an apple, while another took a piece of a warm pie. Someone would be missing out on their dessert.

Crispin and Bor made their way to the girl by the fire. The Prince's eyes darted to the food and drink. He bent down to her level and looked at her face. "Not hungry, I take it?" He asked quietly, then said. "Of course you're hungry...look at you. It's not poisoned, go ahead and take a bite." He waited a little longer. Bor, behind Crispin, crossed his arms and looked down at the girl as well. Crispin waited a moment and then moved to try a different approach, he held out his hand to her. Bor made a small move, his hand moving back to the handle of his blade, but once he realized that Crispin only wanted to introduce himself he did nothing more.

Crispin smiled a little at the girl and tilted his head to the side like a curious dog. "Obviously you know I'm Prince Crispin...but who are you?"

By the time Prince Crispin arrived the cook had already dismissed the servants that had been assisting her, sending them off to their beds while the rotund woman moved about the room, finishing off various tasks as she kept a close eye upon the unexpected guest. As the commanding voice of the Prince echoed down the empty corridors, the cook turned as she wiped her floury hands on the apron that hung about her waist, dipping into a rather awkward curtsey as he entered the room. "M'lord." She greeted quietly, casting a careful glance toward the huddled figure of the girl wrapped in blankets, concern capturing the usually jolly features of the woman. Whatever burdened her was left unsaid as she turned back toward the counter, tucking pastry dough delicately into pie tins to be cooked later.

Ells had been sitting, staring at the thick slabs of bread and cheese that sat in front of her. The smell of the warm, fresh bread was intoxicating, making her empty stomach twist and growl, and her mouth water. Yet her limbs felt leaden, her eyelids heavy with exhaustion. She felt numb and cold despite the warmth of the fire, her muscle twitching and trembling uncontrollably beneath the thick blanket that swamped her slender figure. Shadows jumped and flickered with the tongues of flame within the hearth, causing the girl to flinch as wide panicked eyes swept the expansive room again and again. Paranoia plagued her, the image of that hooded man swathed in a fabric so dark and rich it flowed like a black river. An expensive robe, concealing a man who spoke with poise and perfect diction...a man who would fit in well amongst the nobles that frequented the palace.

Blinking furiously, Ells struggled to gather all her energy to focus upon the man that crouched down next to her and spoke so gently. This was a Prince? This softly spoken man that patiently questioned her, encouraging her to eat, was the son of the man that had ignored and neglected his people so completely? The girl's eyes darted past Crispin to settle upon the large wall of a man that loomed ominously behind him, watching and waiting, ready should she place even a toe out line. Had she come all this way just to be dispatched by this giant.

"She's feverish, m'lord. Hot to the touch, but she's tremblin' like a little leaf. Don't reckon she knows who she is or what's happenin'. Keeps startin' like a rabbit at every little thing." The cook intervened, having paused in her work to glance in their direction as the silence had grown longer. This was enough to snap the girl's gaze away from Bor, darting toward the cook and then away again, grubby fingers drawing the blanket tighter about her shoulders, clenching her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering so violently.

"They want to kill 'im, the King. They're going to poison 'im..." The words sounded cumbersome in her mouth, awkward and stuttering. She wondered if they were even intelligible as she dared to spare a brief glance toward the Prince, careful not to meet his gaze for more than a few seconds before staring down at the table. Suddenly terrified of the response this revelation would bring.

Crispin's arm still lingered in the air, a sign of the past discussion they'd had, suddenly everything seemed to have been turned upon its head. His jaw hung slightly open as well as he looked down at the little urchin. Bor behind him was completely silent. In fact the only things making a sound in the massive kitchens at this point was the crackling of the flames. Eventually Crispin pulled his hand away and stood up straight. He looked sidelong at Bor, the man still stood still. "That is a....um....a serious claim." Crispin said slowly, he continued to stare at the girl. "I mean...to spread a rumour like that...the punishment by law is-" A heavy hand fell on Crispin shoulder and Bor pulled him back. "My prince." He said.

Crispin and Bor moved a little away from the girl to speak privately. The big man spoke. "I feel that this is not a lie." Crispin frowned. "She came here to tell us this...I think." Bor shrugged. "Look at the state that she is in, she wouldn't live another night out there like that. We've given her all we can right now, it's up to her to accept the rest. But I feel that the fact that she's come this close to us, to you my prince, in the state she's in clearly explains that she is not one to begin rumours." Bor gave Crispin a long look and eventually the prince nodded. He turned back to the girl with pursed lips, looking to the floor as he walked up to her. "My friend believes you, and he is a good person." Crispin explained. "There are more things I'd like to ask you, details I want to know. Finish your food and I'll find someone to clean you up with hot water. Then we'll meet again and talk...if you would have it."

He offered her a choice, not something regularly given to someone like her, or at least Crispin assumed. He was unsure what she'd do, but he wasn't going to force her to divulge all of this information so readily. It was clear she needed to be safe from many things and if he offered her that then perhaps he'd be able to coax out of her the information he needed.