Skandra sneered at every pair of eyes that found its way to him. This was a tavern meant for the soldiers of the day, which in this section of the city meant guards from the jail and members of the civil watch. They were all farmhands that had given up an honest trade for a life of harassing good men doing good deeds to one another for their own benefit at the table. If sometimes they were profane or wild because of the drink they took in - well, the only people who weren't okay with that were the soldiers who arrested such men. They remembered him more than he remembered him, because one pale face glaring at you with the wrath of a thousand suns was just like another. They were all glaring, now that he realized it. And they were all... there, only he didn't remember them. He knew what they were by their uniform. The insignia on the shoulder was not one that he recognized well, but they belonged to the princess, all right.
"What do you want?" one of the men had the temerity to ask.
"A drink," Skandra answered bluntly - it wasn't long since he'd regained his effects, so he touched the hilt of his sword with a lazy hand. "My sword is thirsty, too, but she doesn't drink ale."
"Enough," one of the soldiers stood up slowly. "You're in the presence of our prince, you lot. Drink and be silent."
Some of the fellows in the tavern were wearing an earring on one side, a long bronze clip that pinned to their ear from base to height, curving around the edge of the ear lobe. There were four bevels and a chain that looped from one to the other, hanging oddly - almost like a curtain - and on that draping chain were suspended beads and jewels of different color. He had two red and a blue, which made him a company commander, though his rank was lieutenant from the blue. A Captain would have worn three, if he wore the earring at all. Some preferred the slashes of color on their robes. The man nodded once - respectfully - before he turned away. Skandra was tempted to run him through first - he had probably orchestrated the tension they all experienced upon entering the tavern - but resisted the urge for the sake of present company.
Instead he hooked a foot around one of the rickety chairs that was left rickety for the sake of authenticity, and yanked it out for Vedette. That was before he collapsed like a pile of bones and exhaustion into his own seat.
"I ran into a couple of bloody fine fellows," Skandra muttered when he sat down. "And they just happen to be conspirators against your father. Then the third fellow is investigating the first two, under orders from your sister, and he takes me when the other two escape. Does that sound about right to you?"
Lethe leading an investigation into a soldier. Worse, a king's man who seemed poised to sell his affections. Even worse, Ithacles had never been told that there was a threat against his father's life. Worst of all, they were going to have to do something about it whether they wanted to or not.
"What concerns me," and he glanced over his shoulder before he spoke. "What if that isn't the only king's man who's trying to sell himself on the street?"
That was unlikely, but he didn't want Ithacles to assume it was impossible because Ithacles himself did not believe it.