"It's cold," the prince muttered.

"At least there's no snow," Sheo offered optimistically.

"Thank the gods for that," Erik snorted.

"You should be grateful. We have horses and coats and it's only raining," Sheo scolded.

"You're right." The prince sighed. "I'm off to slay a dragon that no one has seen and returned to tell the tale. And I shouldn't complain because my rain-soaked cloak is made of the finest materials?"

"Well, Sir, you have a much better lot then most," Sheo huffed.

"Yes I'm off to my death and I should be grateful!" Erik snapped.

"You were born a prince and have had everything you've ever wanted since you were old enough to blink!"

"I've never had my own way! My father has always ruled my life from the moment I was born. Everything I do, the why I act, what I like, it's not my choice! It's his!"

"At least you had a life," Sheo said coldly. Erik glowered a moment, then blinked and gave Sheo a confused glance.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing, Sir," the boy whispered.

"Tell me Sheo," Erik ordered.

Eyes downcast as he fiddled with the reins, Sheo murmured, "My little sister. She died three years ago of starvation during the drought. She was confined to bed most of her life. She couldn't see. We didn't have enough money, and she skipped meals without telling anyone so our little siblings could eat. So, Sir, I do dare to say that you have a much better lot in life then most."

"I'm sorry my friend. I didn't know." Erik reached across their horses and clasped Sheo's shoulder.

"Why would you? You're a prince."

"A prince that cares about his people. I should have been notified. Nothing like that should ever happen," Erik decided, patting Sheo on the back. "What was her name?"

"Tamera," the boy whispered.

"Hey, there's an inn coming up. Let's stop there for the night, shall we?" Erik asked.

"Sure. Let's get out of this rain," Sheo agreed. Silently, his heart broke. His little Tamera died without a word, without a single complaint. And Erik was more worried about the weather.