<Red hypocrisy> Frederick rode into the castle courtyard, Thunder stamping his feet impatiently beside him. Sir Roland emerged from the stables, wearing his gleaming armor. He fixed Frederick with a long, appraising look. "You're late, boy," he growled. "The king is waiting in the great hall. Go clean yourself up, and report to him immediately." Frederick dismounted and hurried inside, his heart pounding. The king's throne loomed before him, padded with plush cushions of silk. Thralls prostrated themselves before the monarch, while priests recited prayers to their gods. Sir Roland watched from the gallery, arms folded. The bastard was probably laughing at his condition. There was no such thing as a clean boy - that fact was proving painful for Frederick. <Green justice> Rising sun crimson, Frederick entered the stables to find Sir Roland standing beside his horse. "Ah, Frederick," the knight called out, his face breaking into a grin. "Welcome to the castle. I see you cleaned up, not what I expected." Sir Roland let out a booming laugh, clearly amused. Frederick remained silent, a small smile betraying his pride. He dismounted and gently patted Thunder's neck. The stallion whinnied softly, pretending to be happy. "I know, Thunder," Frederick muttered, his thoughts drifting to his previous life at the inn - cooking, cleaning, running errands. Not what he deserved. <Blue swagger> Frederick dismounted Thunder, his felt boots hitting the wooden planks of the barn. He let the saddle down, removing Thunder's halter. That was horses for you, always getting the better of him. "Huh-thank you, Sir Roland," Frederick replied, his voice wavering ever so slightly. "Well, well, boy," Sir Roland said, amber eyes staring with cruel intent. "The King has the day's errands. Go tidy yourself up and present yourself to him. We don't want to keep him waiting." Frederick tensed, standing upright. He stood tall as a man, not a boy. But Sir Roland was right: the King needed a man, not a boy, to help with his move to a newer, shinier chariot. Frederick walked briskly from the barn, his boots stirring up dust as he walked towards the castle.