Altair was in a rather good mood. When he'd gotten home the day before, he was a bit overcome with a feeling of "What have I agreed to?" He'd called in his valet, Tomas, and asked him to prepare him for two days in the woods. Tomas, who had lived his entire life serving in noble houses, couldn't understand why Altair would do such a thing, and had appealed to the butler for help.
Luckily, and to Altair and Tomas's surprise, it turned out that Fauntleroy had been a hunter in his early adulthood. He made up a list and sent Tomas out to purchase supplies. He'd sent a maid to the kitchens to order some food, and then he'd briskly set himself to the task of helping Altair pack.
"What do you think you'll be doing there?" the old butler had admonished, taking things out of his pack right and left. "Why would you need this? Do you think you'll be attending a ball? And what even is this?"
"It's for hair," Altair mumbled.
The butler turned and stared at him. "Right. Well, we'll do something about that hair before you leave, so you won't need this." He paused again, holding up a very tiny stuffed cactoid curiously.
Altair snatched it out of his hand and stuffed it into his pocket. "That is coming with me," he snapped.
By the time Tomas came back with the supplies and the maid came back with a pack of food, Fauntleroy had made a very compact bag of necessities with the bedroll attached. "Right," he said again, and turned on Altair. "Now for you."
By now, nearly the whole staff was involved in some capacity or another. Altair was beginning to suspect they were enjoying the diversion. A kitchen maid who was good at doing the other maids' hair was found, and she neatly braided Altair's long hair into a hundred tiny braids, then secured the braids in a tail at the nape of his neck with a wide elastic band. "Now you won' gotta do anythin' wit' it 'til you come back," she explained in a thick Tenements accent.
So Altair had left at dawn that morning with a pack he could carry, dressed and prepared for his adventure. He'd always known he was the favorite of the staff, but he realized that they hadn't had to do what they'd done for him. It would have been funnier to make him go out on his own, completely unprepared. It was what he would have done in the same situation.
Now, though, after a day of walking and hunting, he was starting to feel tired. He walked in the city, of course, but not nearly so much in one day. His feet were blistering in his boots, and he was absolutely famished. At least he hadn't had to carry his own pack. He'd given it to Wil to carry in exchange for forgiving a portion of Wil's debt. And he'd gotten more marksmanship practice in than he had since just before the Festival. So he had very little to complain about, all in all. Not that he was going to complain at all in front of Wil and Drake, both of whom already seemed to think he was soft.