Erin watched, with a pout, as Lysander poured some salty water over the two plucked pigeons. They smelled tasty enough, yet, the small blonde boy still didn't want to eat them. The wanderer must have seen this because he scrunched up his nose.
"It was hard catching them. This will be more filling, than an overpriced meal at the tavern," Lysander said, and Erin's pout grew.
"But, the birdies..." he began, and Lysander huffed.
"Are dead. The least you can do, is get a full belly out of their misfortune," Lysander said. Erin still couldn't wrap it around his mind, just how fast and nimble Lysander was on his feet. They had bought some bread. Just one bun, for a copper coin. Erin remembered how his mouth had been full of water, at the smell of it.
He really wanted to eat some of the bread. He hadn't eaten anything since Brier Village went up in smoke. Yet, instead of Lysander splitting it in half, he took off a small piece, and threw it on the ground. Then, the pigeons had descended on it as if they were starving. Quick as a whip, Lysander had snatched two of the fattest birds, and snapped their necks.
Erin remembered how he had placed his hand on his mouth, shocked. Lysander had chuckled at that.
"The good thing about pigeons is, that no one says that they belong to the Republic," Lysander said, and then continued to pour the salty water over the pigeons. "Quit pouting at me, princeling."
"Quit calling me that," Erin said, his pout growing even more severe.
"Quit being so unrealistic. If you want to stay with me, then you have to make peace with the fact, that most often than not, we will be eating birdies. When we can't catch those, it will be squirrels and rats," Lysander said. Erin made an even more of a pinched face.
"Why can't we eat tasty mushrooms, like back there in the forest?" Erin asked. They were in a forest once more. Just outside Crystargar. The guards had told them they won't be opening the gates, until it was eight in the morning. That didn't seem to bother Lysander as much, as it bothered Erin.
He was used to guards patrolling the streets. If the two boys couldn't be offered this protection, then, how would they be able to sleep at night?
"The truffles in here are accounted for. If people find some of them missing, they will know who the thieves are. Do you know the punishment for thieving from the Republic's forests?" Lysander asked. Erin nodded.
"A spanking," the blonde said, and Lysander burst out laughing.
"Was that the normal punishment you got? For, I don't know, stealing cookies?" Erin blushed, at how dismissing Lysander sounded.
"Yes, was it not the most severe punishment?" Erin asked. In his ten-year-old mind, the spanking with a fly swiper was the most severe punishment of them all.
"They will cut off your right hand, if they catch you stealing," Lysander said, his tone more somber. "You have to forget some of the notions of your past life. No one will just let you go, with only a spanking."
"But, Ly," Erin tried to protest, and then his stomach growled. He bowed his head. Then, he got an idea. "Then what about the herbs you sold? Aren't they also a property of the Republic?"
"Nobody is going to cut off hands for weeds," Lysander said. "As long as they don't know that the one doing the weeding, is a wanderer. Like me."
"Well, they are all meanies, then!" Erin proclaimed loudly. "But that merchant who gave us the cloaks was nice."
"Nice? He charged us an arm and a leg," Lysander said. Erin, who had only gone out to help carry the shopping bags for his mother, tilted his head to the side. "Look, Rin, adults do this thing called haggling. Did your parents ever haggle?"
Erin shook his head. His mother always told him that only crass people haggled.
"Well, you were well off. So, maybe that is why. Yet, normal people, ones who don't live in castles, have to haggle. The thing is, if a child tries to haggle, they will get a broom on their behinds," Lysander said. Erin's eyes went wide.
"A broom?" He asked, and Lysander nodded.
"Along with some nagging," Lysander could still remember how demeaning it was, to end up being chased off with a broom. As if he was some animal.
"But that is not fair!" Erin said. Lysander sighed.
"Life is never fair, princeling," Lysander took out his pocket knife, and tore off some meat off his own pigeon. He brought it to his lips, and blew air on it. When he ate it, he closed his eyes in pure bliss.
"Let us just cool these, and we can have a feast," Lysander said, and Erin blinked at him.
"Where is the bread plate, for the poor?" Erin asked.
"A what now? Rin, we are the poor here. Nobody is going to get any of our food," Lysander looked around, just in case some homeless person came knocking, for a leg, or a wing.
"But a feast always ends with the bread plate being given to the poor. It is reach in sauces and gravy. If we are to have a feast, then we must have bread plates," Erin insisted. Lysander sighed, and then took out two flat breads from his pouch.
"I was saving these, for when the pickings are tough, but you won't let me just eat, will you?" He handed one of the breads to Erin, who placed it in his hand, and then Lysander handed the boy his stick with his pigeon. Erin placed the still steaming pigeon on the flat bread, and smiled.
"There, now we can really have a feast," Erin said.
"If you don't want to eat your flatbread, just give it to me," Lysander asked, feeling hopeful. Erin nodded, still very much a princeling. They waited, for the meat to cool, and then began to eat. Erin had to admit, that Lysander knew how to cook. The bird meat was just as tasty, as any he had eaten. When he was done with the bird, he still felt hungry.
Erin watched, as Lysander began eating his "plate". He pouted at that.
"Are you really going to eat this? That is rude, Ly," Erin said.
"You know what is really rude? Throwing away food," Lysander retorted, and then reached out. "Remember, you promised to give me your flat bread."
Erin huffed, and handed it over. Then, he looked for something to clean his hands with. After he didn't find anything, he just rubbed them on the grass. If his mother could see him now, she'd spank him.
Erin watched, with a pout, as Lysander poured some salty water over the two plucked pigeons. They smelled tasty enough, yet, the small blonde boy still didn't want to eat them. The wanderer must have seen this because he scrunched up his nose.
"It was hard catching them. This will be more filling, than an overpriced meal at the tavern," Lysander said, and Erin's pout grew.
"But, the birdies..." he began, and Lysander huffed.
"Are dead. The least you can do, is get a full belly out of their misfortune," Lysander said. Erin still couldn't wrap it around his mind, just how fast and nimble Lysander was on his feet. They had bought some bread. Just one bun, for a copper coin. Erin remembered how his mouth had been full of water, at the smell of it.
He really wanted to eat some of the bread. He hadn't eaten anything since Brier Village went up in smoke. Yet, instead of Lysander splitting it in half, he took off a small piece, and threw it on the ground. Then, the pigeons had descended on it as if they were starving. Quick as a whip, Lysander had snatched two of the fattest birds, and snapped their necks.
Erin remembered how he had placed his hand on his mouth, shocked. Lysander had chuckled at that.
"The good thing about pigeons is, that no one says that they belong to the Republic," Lysander said, and then continued to pour the salty water over the pigeons. "Quit pouting at me, princeling."
"Quit calling me that," Erin said, his pout growing even more severe.
"Quit being so unrealistic. If you want to stay with me, then you have to make peace with the fact, that most often than not, we will be eating birdies. When we can't catch those, it will be squirrels and rats," Lysander said. Erin made an even more of a pinched face.
"Why can't we eat tasty mushrooms, like back there in the forest?" Erin asked. They were in a forest once more. Just outside Crystargar. The guards had told them they won't be opening the gates, until it was eight in the morning. That didn't seem to bother Lysander as much, as it bothered Erin.
He was used to guards patrolling the streets. If the two boys couldn't be offered this protection, then, how would they be able to sleep at night?
"The truffles in here are accounted for. If people find some of them missing, they will know who the thieves are. Do you know the punishment for thieving from the Republic's forests?" Lysander asked. Erin nodded.
"A spanking," the blonde said, and Lysander burst out laughing.
"Was that the normal punishment you got? For, I don't know, stealing cookies?" Erin blushed, at how dismissing Lysander sounded.
"Yes, was it not the most severe punishment?" Erin asked. In his ten-year-old mind, the spanking with a fly swiper was the most severe punishment of them all.
"They will cut off your right hand, if they catch you stealing," Lysander said, his tone more somber. "You have to forget some of the notions of your past life. No one will just let you go, with only a spanking."
"But, Ly," Erin tried to protest, and then his stomach growled. He bowed his head. Then, he got an idea. "Then what about the herbs you sold? Aren't they also a property of the Republic?"
"Nobody is going to cut off hands for weeds," Lysander said. "As long as they don't know that the one doing the weeding, is a wanderer. Like me."
"Well, they are all meanies, then!" Erin proclaimed loudly. "But that merchant who gave us the cloaks was nice."
"Nice? He charged us an arm and a leg," Lysander said. Erin, who had only gone out to help carry the shopping bags for his mother, tilted his head to the side. "Look, Rin, adults do this thing called haggling. Did your parents ever haggle?"
Erin shook his head. His mother always told him that only crass people haggled.
"Well, you were well off. So, maybe that is why. Yet, normal people, ones who don't live in castles, have to haggle. The thing is, if a child tries to haggle, they will get a broom on their behinds," Lysander said. Erin's eyes went wide.
"A broom?" He asked, and Lysander nodded.
"Along with some nagging," Lysander could still remember how demeaning it was, to end up being chased off with a broom. As if he was some animal.
"But that is not fair!" Erin said. Lysander sighed.
"Life is never fair, princeling," Lysander took out his pocket knife, and tore off some meat off his own pigeon. He brought it to his lips, and blew air on it. When he ate it, he closed his eyes in pure bliss.
"Let us just cool these, and we can have a feast," Lysander said, and Erin blinked at him.
"Where is the bread plate, for the poor?" Erin asked.
"A what now? Rin, we are the poor here. Nobody is going to get any of our food," Lysander looked around, just in case some homeless person came knocking, for a leg, or a wing.
"But a feast always ends with the bread plate being given to the poor. It is reach in sauces and gravy. If we are to have a feast, then we must have bread plates," Erin insisted. Lysander sighed, and then took out two flat breads from his pouch.
"I was saving these, for when the pickings are tough, but you won't let me just eat, will you?" He handed one of the breads to Erin, who placed it in his hand, and then Lysander handed the boy his stick with his pigeon. Erin placed the still steaming pigeon on the flat bread, and smiled.
"There, now we can really have a feast," Erin said.
"If you don't want to eat your flatbread, just give it to me," Lysander asked, feeling hopeful. Erin nodded, still very much a princeling. They waited, for the meat to cool, and then began to eat. Erin had to admit, that Lysander knew how to cook. The bird meat was just as tasty, as any he had eaten. When he was done with the bird, he still felt hungry.
Erin watched, as Lysander began eating his "plate". He pouted at that.
"Are you really going to eat this? That is rude, Ly," Erin said.
"You know what is really rude? Throwing away food," Lysander retorted, and then reached out. "Remember, you promised to give me your flat bread."
Erin huffed, and handed it over. Then, he looked for something to clean his hands with. After he didn't find anything, he just rubbed them on the grass. If his mother could see him now, she'd spank him.
