Casimir's Journey Read Online Free PDF Page A

She turned to the window, ignoring him again.
    “Very well. I shall sort it out on my own.”
    “Provide me with a list of all that you will need, and I will have it ready for you when you’re able to travel...say a week from now?” Without awaiting his response, she moved to the door, her feet seemingly not moving beneath her gown. Casimir wondered how such an evil woman could move with such grace, and he hated to admit it, beauty.              
    He nodded, as he couldn’t trust himself to speak. He was so angry with her, he was afraid he might say something that would have him suffering even more greatly.
    She smiled. He felt she could see right through his forced calm.
    “Should you require further supplies ring the bell. Someone will attend you.” She left, closing the door softly behind her.
    Casimir let out a breath. How was he going to disguise himself in Ethion? Everyone there knew him. His face had been plastered all over villages from the time he was born. While she didn’t name it as such, this was his first task.
    He struggled to remember his lessons in plants and herbs. There had to be something that would disguise his face. Suddenly, he thought back to his father’s marshal. He’d been speaking on the importance of being able to move undetected in a hostile environment. What was it he’d said?
    Casimir thought so hard he was sure he was sweating. When he touched his brow, however, it felt cool and dry. He took a deep breath. This was a sure sign that he moved toward panic, and panic solved nothing. He took a few more deep breaths, hoping to stave off fear and the inevitable poor decision that followed.
    The marshal had spoken at length on moving undetected. The key, he’d said, was to be forgettable. Casimir needed to make himself look like a cotter, a villager, just another face in the crowd.
    He’d need to be sunburned. A cotter would spend a great deal of time in the field, and the effects of that would show on his face. So, something to darken his skin? Walnut juice, perhaps? He would need to look and smell as though he had not bathed in quite some time. Someone working in the field all day would not be able to spend much time on grooming.
    Worn, but cared for clothing. One thing he’d noted when he’d gone to the villages with his father in his youth was that those who did not have many items of clothing cared for what they had.
    The filth was another story. While his parents were rather enlightened, as were most of the courts of the neighboring countries, the idea of bathing on a regular schedule had not made it to most of their people. Some of the elders even loudly decried frequent bathing as the devil’s work. So, he would need to fit in and be unwashed.
    He sighed. He didn’t like being ungroomed, but there was no way around it. Be forgettable. Which meant one had to look—and smell—like everyone else. No better and no worse. Beggars were often forcibly removed from villages, so he would have to be careful not to appear too ragged.
    Better to appear as a simple cotter, one who was merely traveling. He’d have to come up with a reason for the travel, as well. Most regions in Ethion had their own dialects which were not so unique that travelers could not understand one another, but different enough that your speech marked where you were from.
    Casimir and his brothers had been schooled in all of the dialects and could converse easily with anyone from their kingdom, but sounding like he’d come from one particular place? His father and tutors had worked hard to see that he and his brothers had no specific accent.
    Which, upon reflection, felt rather sad. He pushed the thought away and returned to the task at hand. He’d have to decide what his tale would be. Everywhere he went, he would need to have a story, a reason for travel, and a place he came from. Otherwise, those around him would close ranks, perhaps even see him as a threat.
    Such a thing would get the guard