The following morning.

Your dreams that night are troubled. You see invaders, brutish figures in bestial golden masks, sweeping across the continent, putting all you know to the torch. You see good people slaughtered in their thousands. You see the hideous octopean mask of their commander, as they mutilate any who stand before them with axe and sword.

After what feels like uncomfortable hours beyond counting, you are jolted from your bleak reverie by a beam of light.

Startled, you heave yourself out of the bed and onto your feet in a low stance, a sort of predatory instinct kicking in.

At the window you see a young maid, blonde of hair and blue of eye, dusting the curtains

“Your Majes- King Bryce!” the girl yelps. “Forgive me, I didn't know you were still abed, I thought you were already on your way. I-”

“Enough.” you say, holding up your hand to silence the lass. You feel your heart pounding in your chest. You were too on edge. Here she was, a girl no older than you, come to clean your chamber and you had reacted like it was a night ambush. You had to calm down.

“I merely came to... dust the curtains.” the blonde whispers, taking a step or two closer.

“They seem quite clean already.” you respond tersely.

“You're right, of course.” the girl concedes. You're well aware it was mere pretext, a justification for her presence in your bedchamber. “Well then, King Bryce, is there anything else Sarah, the lowly serving girl, can do for you?”

She's very close to you now. She smells good. You inhale again. She really is very pretty. Her face is youthful, untroubled. A far cry from the haggard and harried girls, the ones unfortunate enough to serve less... hospitable nobles you've seen in your time.

“Some food. Food'd be nice.” you tell her.

“Well,” Sarah says, flashing you a smile. “I'm sure we can see to that.”

-

The blonde serving girl returns shortly, skilfully bearing a platter of various foods. You're glad to eat in your chambers for now, it feels more comfortable.

Sarah sets the tray down on your table. It's a fine selection, freshly roasted meat, bread, a little fruit and porridge. And with your choice of ale or water to wash it all down with. It's enough to make you salivate there on the spot. You waste little time on getting stuck in, not quite understanding how hungry you were until you laid eyes on it all.

You're overcome by the taste of it. The pork is as fulfilling as any you've tasted. The ale, cool and refreshing.

“Will that be all, King Bryce?” Sarah asks politely, standing before you, watching you wolf down your breakfast.

You pause, tearing yourself away from the delights produced by the castle's kitchen. You really could get used to this.

You regard Sarah once again. She strikes you once again as young, innocent, a figure unravaged by the harshness of the world, despite her lowly station. You should talk to her. To hear her thoughts on the world, on the times she lives in, could be valuable indeed.

“Sit with me.” you bid her. “If you don't mind.” you add, after the initial request comes out more forceful than you had intended.

“Of course, King Bryce.” Sarah says, flashing you her pretty smile once more.

“Help yourself.” you tell her, gesturing to the food. “There's more here than I could eat in a week.”

“That's quite alright.” Sarah says quietly. “I've already broken my fast.”

“Already?” you snort. “Must've been early, indeed.”

“That's... relative, King Bryce.” the serving girl says with a hesitant smile. Of course, you think. To service the king and his court, people like her would have to rise long before you did.

“Tell me, what's an average day for you like, Sarah?” you ask.

“Oh,” she exhales. “You'd really find it very boring, Sire. I do all manner of things, both to support the running of the castle, and make sure you're able to go about your far more important business without distraction or impediment.”

“I appreciate all that you do, but that's not what I meant.” you say with a smile. “You must get a day off now and then, yes? A day a month, something like that?”

“It's a day a week, King Bryce.” Sarah smiles. “For which I'm extremely grateful”

“Of course.” you say, shaking your head. “I, er, imagine one day off with every moon would be rather exhausting, huh?”

“I'd imagine there are thralls up in Dean who get more time to themselves than that!” Sarah titters. “No, one day out of the week is about usual. I've friends who work elsewhere in the Capital, and that's what they're given too.”

“So when you don't have to dust my curtains, or bring me breakfast, what occupies your time?” you ask again.

“Oh, the usual. I browse the shops in the city, go to the tavern with my friends, stroll on the common, feed the ducks.”

You chuckle before you can help yourself.

“I'm sorry.” Sarah blushes, covering her face in mortification. “I know you wanted me to talk, but surely you didn't want me to jabber so!”

“You have nothing to apologise for, Sarah.” you assure her. “Hearing you talk about these things is... well, it's a comfort.”

Lowering her hands from her face, the servant locks eyes with you.

“I... didn't realise. Part of you must lament not being able to experience something so mundane, hmm? Even as a prince, your life must've been so demanding.” Sarah realises.

“You... don't know the half of it.” you confess.

Reaching across the table, Sarah puts her hand on yours, affectionately squeezing it.

“Remember, Your Majesty. My job is ensure you're comfortable.” Sarah says, her tone warm and welcoming. “However I can.”