“Ribald, sit,” said Ribald’s neighbour. Young, delicate, he looked better suited to the Church than to battles. But Guy knew who he was, had seen him several times at the king’s court. He was the Breton Count Stefan. “I’m told you come seeking my brother?”
Guy bowed deeply from where he stood at the far end of the hall. “Lord. I do seek audience with Count Alan. On a matter most urgent.”
“Ho! Hark at his delicate manners! Who’s his lord, did he say?” called a blond drunkard from the high-table.
“See the badge on the boy?” said his companion. “Belongs to that old fart Rainald.”
106 words, excerpt from Bellinn Road, a time-slip fantasy posted in 2012-2013 as Neve.
For details: Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt