Withstanding Trials: Day 5

Word Count: 30,188

Summary of Events:

Saraid went out to draw water from the well in the early morning fog and was unnerved by some rustling nearby before being frightened by an arrow that nearly hit her, which came from the bow of the local huntsman, who hadn't realised he was so close to town, and had been trying to hit a deer that ran away unscathed. Aodhán was taken to Finscéalta by Ceallach despite having already been there, and instead of maybe being shown some sights like he expected to be, he was taken directly to the taverns on the waterfront to drink, with Ceallach intending to introduce Aodhán to everyone, which Aodhán didn't want him to…

Excerpt of the Day:

“They can ask me who I am directly,” Aodhán said.

“It’s easier to just tell everyone at once,” Ceallach said.

“They will ask me who I am directly,” Aodhán said sternly. “And that is an order.”
“Excuse me sir?” the keeper asked. “Are you ordering us to ask you directly who you are?”

“No, I am ordering him to not tell everyone who I am, but to let each of you who are interested to ask me directly who I am,” Aodhán replied.

“You can’t order me around,” Ceallach said. “You’re not older than me.”
“Yes I am,” Aodhán replied. “I’ll be eighteen by the end of the year, you’ll only turn next year. Furthermore, even if I was younger than you, I outrank you, therefore I can give you orders and it is your duty to obey them unless someone who outranks me counteracts or voids my orders to you.”

Ceallach furrowed his brow, visibly disgruntled.

“Well, then, sir, if I may ask, who are you?” the keeper asked.

“Aodhán Ó Maolmhuaidh,” Aodhán replied.

The keeper moved his mouth in a silent repetition of the surname before his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.

“The prince?” he whispered, looking at Aodhán wonderingly.

“Yes,” Aodhán replied.

The keeper bowed deeply. “My lord, forgive me for being so informal with you.”

“I was comparably informal with you,” Aodhán replied. “But if you feel it needs forgiving, then I forgive you.”

“Who’s the prince?” someone else asked, following which a murmur that sounded to feature the word ‘prince’ several times over rippled through the tavern.

Aodhán turned around to face the crowd of patrons, who were now all looking in his general direction.

“Who enquired?” he asked.

“Are you the prince?” a man asked, stepping forward.

“I am,” Aodhán replied.

Immediately everyone in the tavern went wide-eyed and those who were standing bowed. Clearly proper etiquette when interacting with high-ranking persons was widely practised in Finscéalta.

“What brings you to this place, my lord?” another patron asked.

“My cousin gave it his recommendation,” Aodhán replied, gesturing to Ceallach.

“The best brew in the Taoisceach!” Ceallach proclaimed, raising his mug.

“To the prince’s health!” a man to Aodhán’s left exclaimed, raising his mug.

Everyone in the tavern took up their mug.

“To the prince!” they shouted mostly as one, raising their mugs aloft and striking them together before drinking deeply of the brew within them.

Aodhán hadn’t been toasted before, and he had to admit that he felt it was a little odd, but he wasn’t going to tell people not to toast him if they wanted to. At least if they were toasting him he didn’t have to drink, necessarily.

“Long live the prince!” another patron called, raising his mug.

“Long live the prince!” everyone else shouted before drinking deeply again.

“Thank you,” Aodhán said.

“To the best–”

“Ceallach,” Aodhán interrupted. “Thank you, but I’ve had enough toasts.”

“But it should be three toasts, for good luck,” Ceallach said.

“I don’t need good luck,” Aodhán replied.