“Sit down, boys.”

As soon as the front door shut, Burt was waving the boys to the supper table, which had four cups already laid out. Kurt laid the skins on the table and handed his father the pouch of coins, still mostly full.

“Good, good,” Burt said, tying the pouch to his belt again. “Have a seat. We’ve all got a lot to discuss, as a family. Kurt, go ahead and pour the wine.”

Kurt untied one of the skins and poured a generous amount into the cups. When he’d tied off the skin again, he sat and took a deep draught of the sweet wine.

“Now,” Burt began, holding his cup between his wide hands, “we’ve always been a comfortable family. We’ve been lucky—people are buying what I sell, and Carole’s not doing so bad with her herbs and potions and whatnot. But it’s high time we thought about what you boys want for the future.”

He turned to Finn first.

“What I want to know from you is if you want to apprentice with me and take over when I…can’t anymore.”

Finn’s eyes widened.

“You mean…become a merchant?”

“That’s right,” Burt smiled, leaning back and nodding. “You’ll need some training, but I think you got it in you.”

“Thanks, Burt,” Finn answered, grinning. “When can I start?”

“When I get back from Westerville later this week,” Burt replied. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning, I should be back the third day after that. I can start going over the basics with you then, and the next market I go to I’ll bring you along so you can see how it goes.”

Burt turned to Kurt, who had been silently sipping at his wine.

“Now,” Burt said. “Have you thought about what we talked about earlier?”

Kurt’s mouth drew into a thin line as he debated telling his father about Sebastian’s offer. He sighed, reluctant, even afraid, to speak of it. His father knew about Sebastian’s proclivities, as well. Everyone did. And Kurt wasn’t sure he wanted Burt worrying about it—which he would, if Kurt decided to divulge anything.

“Could you two leave us alone for a bit?” Burt said, turning to Carole when Kurt didn’t answer for several long moments. “I need to speak to my son in private.”

As the two left, Burt refilled Kurt’s cup, filling it to the brim, and then doing the same with his own.

“I have a feeling we’re going to need these,” Burt sighed. “So what’s got you spooked? What aren’t you telling me?”

Kurt smiled wryly. His father knew him too well.

“Some of the men from the regiment were at the tavern tonight,” he said quietly, toying with his cup. “Including Lord Smythe.”

“And what did he do?” Burt prompted as Kurt paused, finding his words.

“Well, first, he got Karofsky and Azimio to back off when they started in on me,” Kurt admitted. “But then he…spoke to me.”

Burt’s eyebrows rose. “And what does that mean?”

“He seemed…interested in me,” Kurt continued haltingly, choosing his words deliberately. “He kissed my hand. Then he followed me to the bar while I bought the wine, and…paid me compliments. He said I seemed educated, and admired my clothing.”

“And it’s got you worried?” Burt asked. He was smirking in a knowing fashion. “Nothing wrong with someone admiring you a little.”

“Dad, you know the rumors,” Kurt reprimanded. “Sebastian Smythe seduces any innocent he can get his hands on and then…discards them like trash.”

“And you think he’d like to do this with you?”

“He offered to have me apprentice to his clothier,” Kurt finally said. “It’s an amazing opportunity. And I don’t think I’ll have another one quite as good. I’m just afraid that it will come at a price, Dad. Or that he doesn’t want me for that at all and he’s just looking for an excuse.”

Burt didn’t reply. He simply looked at Kurt and waited for him to get to the point.

“I don’t want to be Lord Smythe’s whore,” he continued. “But I don’t see what else I can do. What other prospects do I have? No one will take me on around here, and you can’t expect me to believe that people will think any differently of me in another village. It’ll be the same—I’m too…too different.”

“Kurt, if you don’t want anything to do with Lord Smythe, then you don’t have to do a damn thing,” Burt said firmly. “This might look like a golden opportunity, but it’s not the only one that’s going to come our way. Sebastian Smythe may be a lord, but he can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. I don’t think you want to trade your integrity for that kind of life, no matter how comfortable a life it might be. And you shouldn’t throw yourself around like you don’t matter. Because you matter, Kurt.”

Kurt smiled at his father as he spoke again.

“So. When I go to Westerville tomorrow, who should I look for? A bard or a tailor? Because I know you want to sing and tell your stories, but bards live a tough life and you might be more comfortable staying in one place and sewing your clothes. Up to you.”

Kurt pondered for a moment, swirling the remainder of his wine in his cup before drinking it.

“A bard,” Kurt replied, smiling assuredly. “If you can find a respectable one who’s willing to take me on. I never thought I’d say this, but maybe roughing it on the road will do me some good. I have always wanted to see the world. But if there are none looking for a student, I would be willing to apprentice under a tailor.”

“Don’t take the bard because you want to change yourself, Kurt. You’re just fine the way you are, you don’t need to toughen up, or—”

“I’m sure, Dad,” Kurt assured. “I’m not changing who I am. I’m taking the only route available to me in being myself. If that requires certain…sacrifices, so be it.”

“All right then. Very good,” Burt said. “So tomorrow I’ll leave, and while I’m in Westerville I’ll see what I can do before I come home on the third day.”

“Promise me you won’t make that trip in one day again, Dad,” Kurt interrupted. “It’s too much.”

“It’s not that bad, Kurt.”

“Dad, please. I don’t want you to get sick or hurt or—“

“Fine,” Burt agreed, raising his hands in defeat. “I’ll stop at Castle Dalton and stay with Michael in the servants’ quarters, all right? Thank the gods the Prince doesn’t pay attention to anyone who imposes on his servants’ hospitalities. Will that suffice?” he added dryly. 

Kurt didn’t rise to the bait. “It will indeed.”

The next morning found Finn hitching the cart to the horse and securing the goods in the back. Burt had a fresh pack with some food and coin and his personal effects. Carole was straightening his tunic and fussing with his cloak while Kurt hovered nearby.

“Any requests while I’m out?” Burt asked, smiling around at his family. “Nothing too expensive, mind,” he added, eyeing Kurt. Kurt tried his best to look guilty, but he wasn’t.

“Do you think there’d be a poet willing to sell one of his poems?” Finn asked absently. “Rachel’s been hinting at me to write her one, but writing a poem is really confusing and I don’t want to make her mad.”

“I can check,” Burt laughed. “Carole?”

“See if that damn travelling herbalist can spare any plantain for a decent price,” she replied. “My supply’s clean out and the fisherman’s wife has been complaining.”

“Can do. Kurt?”

Kurt thought for a moment. He wasn’t in particular need of anything, after the past few market trips. But he’d had a thought recently and decided to act on it.

“Bring me back a rose,” he said, smiling. “I have an urge to cultivate a bush for our gate. It will give us a more…distinguished appearance.”

Burt laughed outright.

“A rose bush, Kurt?” Burt asked. “And what happens if I find someone for you to apprentice with, hm?”

“Carole can take care of a rose bush, can’t you Carole?” Kurt raised an eyebrow. “Besides, I’m sure the rose hips you can harvest will come in handy, won’t they?”

Carole laughed. “They couldn’t hurt anything.”

“Fine,” Burt conceded. “A poem, some plantain, and a rose. Gods help me if anyone should discover that list. I’ll be laughed out of the market.”

He kissed his wife goodbye and climbed up to the perch on the front of the cart. Kurt handed him the reins.

“Remember,” he said, “you promised to stop at Dalton on the way. I’ll be asking Mike if you did the next time he visits town.”

Burt grumbled. “Fine. I’ll give him your best, shall I?”

“I would appreciate it,” Kurt smirked, triumphant. “Come home safe, Dad.”

“I always do,” Burt replied, waving to his family and riding out the gate.