Ⅶ
"It's safe here!"
A commoner led Pistrie Hamlet into a shed in the Harbor District-it had only a roof and one wall supporting it. Apart from the posts, the other three sides were packed with straw.
That straw was the commoner's prized possession.
It served as both his bed and his blanket.
Of course, there were fleas in it, too.
Pistrie stumbled as he was dragged inside, still utterly dazed.
Even now, the Old Lion's youngest son could not believe that his uncle had launched a rebellion.
And, of course, he found it even harder to believe that his best friend had betrayed him.
Why?
Pistrie desperately wanted to shout that question.
As the Old Lion's youngest son, Pistrie Hamlet had a poor reputation among the nobles of the Inner Bay because he spent so much time mingling with commoners.
The nobles considered the Old Lion's youngest son depraved, someone who had forgotten noble honor.
For a long time, the Old Lion's youngest son had even been absent from the Inner Bay's noble salons.
He did not care.
He hated those endless banquets and salons.
He hated even more the utterly insincere pleasantries between people who were clearly itching to stab each other to death.
What he liked was sincerity and openness.
He liked seeing a wife and children patiently await a husband's return after a busy day, then sit together as a family to eat roasted potatoes and dark bran bread.
There was no soup, much less any seasoning.
But there was warmth.
The warmth of a home.
He liked that.
So he was willing to make friends with commoners.
Of course, he concealed his identity, too.
It was not that he did not want to reveal it. Once, he had boldly done so, only for a friend