“You’re well-loved here,” Kris murmured. He found an empty stool and sat back to watch.
Hal had nodded again once, glancing at him as he sat on the wooden stool as he went to order a man by the name of ‘Francis’ to come forth to fetch the sack and pots of ale. He grinned widely, others slapping each other on their backs roaring with the laughter of drunkards as the young prince stepped back to Kris.
“A cup of ale, my sweet honey lord?” He jested, with a laugh, handing one cup of ale to him.
Kris took it, drinking deep. “My deepest thanks, sweet prince! What more here? All the folk seem right merry!”