The Hunt Continues

[Sir Darton de Lac]

The fool did not stop in Meirin. Instead, he traveled north and west into Shalefort, the duchy that belonged to the de Vere family. Darton was bemused to learn the Prince bypassed the relative comfort of Meirin when the storm descended, instead risking his neck in braving the elements. Perhaps the man was mad, as was already being bruited about the Court. Surely madness could drive so promising a young man to such rash and imprudent actions, they'd said.

Darton did not care whether Nikolai Fyodorov was mad or sane, but the young man proved more elusive than he anticipated for one who did not know the layout of the lands well. He did not stop to enquire of the merchants what supplies the Prince acquired; it made sense that he obtained a map as well as food and other necessary items. If so, then the Prince would indeed lead him a merry chase over hill and through dale. Darton bared his teeth for a moment in anticipation; he enjoyed little more than a long and involved hunt.

A rueful thought was spared; he did not think to bring a second messenger bird, compelling him to halt in one of the cities to dispatch a letter to Riordan to keep him informed. Bound by honour and promise, Darton was not likely to betray his lord's confidence. That, and he wished an update on matters in the Court itself, his concern for the royal family unabated.

For now, he resumed his focus on tracking the rogue Prince and returning him to the King to face the proverbial music. He was solidly on the man's trail, determined to chase Nikolai to Arton, to hell and back.