Time....

Morning came and the men were up early. As was the case most mornings, Eric and Thaddeus would take a hike into the hills not far from the cottage and spar, taking care to pull their blows a bit and using fallen branches roughly carved into their chosen implements to avoid doing irreparable harm by equipping what gear they brought with them. Equally the case was that someone would end up with more bruises than the other. This day was Eric's turn to wear the bruises, but either one could have passed for it as their shirts covered the damage and both wore their battle wounds on their faces and postures. They waddled into the house, clutching their arms and sat heavily in the main room, crumpling into a heap.

Andrew, while not especially interested in warfare from a physical standpoint, would talk strategy and philosophy with Nathaniel; walking with the other two and then breaking off when the battlements began. Nathaniel, who had been tutoring alongside the younger prince for a reasonable while before Julien went missing, had a keen mind and often kept Andrew guessing, approaching each challenge with sound logic and well thought out arguments, often playing devil's advocate just to sharpen Andrew's defenses. Not entirely unlike his older brother and his sparring partner, Andrew and his verbal sparring partner came into the cottage exhausted, having put their best challenges to one another and now had headaches at least as large as the welts dealt at the hands of their more physical counterparts.

When their appetites had been sated and the cider had been drunk, they took wonderful and deep rest, allowing Andrew to slip away and take a walk with Romi, who was very curious about the city as she would often be left to care for the house while Martha and Sara would take the trips for important matters whether to the village or the city. And so the questions began and there were many, from the castle's chef to how the stablehands cared for their stock; Romi was a wealth of curiosity, but truth be told, more often than not the questions were to make Andrew scramble to find ways to answer her on the fly. His voice was smooth and his presence made her feel safer than she had since her father had passed. So Andrew talked and helped Romi tend to the gardens and, before either of them knew it, the sun was beginning to set.

Andrew sent Romi ahead into the house while he finished the last little bit of the chore they had been working on together. When he was done, he followed. Eric and the others were readying themselves for the evening.
"What's going on here?" Andrew asked, having not been made aware anything was planned.
"Well, brother, we've been invited by the village to a dinner gathering in the main hall at town center and you need to get yourself made to look presentable. Blisters from gardening tools don't match the look we're going for." He smiled and gave Andrew a playful punch in the arm, catching just the right place making his arm go numb for a minute or two.
"No problem," Andrew replied, holding his arm and rushing into a side room with his clothes and returned looking just as his brother and the other two, adorned well for a proper night out.

And so the party left the house, saddled the free horses and mounted the cart. Once all were set, they took the through road to the town square. From inside the house, however, something was stirring; someone was stirring. Inside the main room, from behind the conversation table near the wall, a panel slid back into place, where there had only been a tapestry hanging in place. There, in the darkness, a small bench rested and a platform encapsulated in the space a closet might have occupied. Beside those, a ladder that led into an underground workspace about triple the size; enough room for a built in table, a small shelving unit and a humble amount of walk space. The room was meant to be enough for a full day's worth of occupancy but leaving no space to lay one's head. A lone figure sat at the table, which was covered with small parchments and scrolls ranging from historical documents to ceremonial rites. By candlelight, those eyes glinted and danced as the figure began to write. Once done, the chair was pushed in, candle was extinguished and enough time was elapsed for the smoke to dissipate. The ladder was ascended and latched dispatched and from the darkened room, the figure emerged, letter in hand and out the door towards the village. After all, the gathering might, in fact, garner valuable intelligence and even the darkest gods knew the value of intelligence.

The village had all turned up in force for the wonderful event and, it seemed, no expense was given to the lavish spread with plenty of fresh produce, baked goods, and meats prepared to perfection lining all but the last foot's worth of space around the periphery. Eric, Andrew and their company entered the hall with mouths very much agape. The village leader was an aged man by the name of Matthew and wife, son, and daughter had come out for the event. When the crowd had all found themselves in the hall, he stood from his chair at the head of the table, quieting the masses.

"Alright, everyone find a spot and have a seat," he began. "We are honored to welcome the princes and their caretakers to town this evening and we have come together to give them thanks for re-establishing the markets in the city. As you all know, there were tough times when the markets were put off for harvest hardship, but we thank the princes for keeping us in their thoughts and having the influence to bring us all together once again. Thanks to those who put together this event and those who helped in preparing all of this food both for yourselves as well as for others who cannot afford to do the same. That is the true meaning of community. Long live the princes! Let us fill our plates and glasses in honor of these guests."

The applause moved both princes to the verge of tears. In truth, their reasons for bringing back the markets had less to do with uniting the villages and more to do with paying tribute to Julien, but the byproduct did more to bolster the people's spirits than either one could ever have guessed. Thaddeus, who had been enjoying the revelry, caught sight of a suspicious pair of eyes as he was panning the crowd, but had no intention of alerting his observer, so he tapped Nathaniel and as he whispered into his ear, he pointed in another direction and laughed.
"Near the back exit. We're being watched. Give a passing glance and laugh. We don't want them to know we see them." His voice never carried and Nathaniel gave no indication that anything was wrong to anyone else. Rather than that, he pointed to the punch table and Thaddeus smiled and nodded. Nathaniel stood and walked to the punch table, filling a couple of glasses to near the top and giving the cloaked figure a veiled glance before walking back, handing Thaddeus his cup and whispering in response.
"I don't think we're looking at a man, but I have no real way of knowing unless I want to find myself on the wrong side of a mob beating. Any ideas about how to draw them out?"
Nathaniel let out a massive belly laugh as if Thaddeus had been telling the best story he'd ever heard
at a dinner party.

The cloaked figure remained partially obscured as Nathaniel leaned over Thaddeus in their conversation and, though the cat and mouse routine was entirely seen by only two parties as the princes were otherwise occupied with various conversations with the villagers around the table. Both Thaddeus and Nathaniel wished to put any sort of possible confrontation behind them before the evening wore on. Thaddeus, being the more hearty fighter, leaned back and whispered for Nathaniel to take his seat while he exited the front door, breaking into a full sprint around the backside of the hall. At the back door, a dark cloak bearing a hearthy, fragrance; undoubtedly feminine, but there was no trace as to which direction the owner of said cloak might have gone. He carried the cloak back to their table, placing it on his chair before sitting atop. He needed evidence, after all, and this was, above all else, evidence....they were being watched.