Arthur had to admit that he wouldn’t be wise to stay in this place for too much longer. He didn’t know that if anyone would come out of the woodwork and try and to attack both of them. “That is a wise decision to head back and station men around here.”
He was quiet as they continued their walk, he could see the orphans and beggar-children all running off and no one coming toward him or Mordred. He should come back in his plain clothes, and give money to the people. He wondered how bad things have truly gotten for his people.
As he began to leave the lower towns, he kept his head looking straight ahead, but a deep sadness ran through him. “We need to send money to the people here. No one told me it had gotten so bad. When I was younger I was able to be around the people and actually help out. I need to do that again.”
With a respectful nod of thanks for the compliment, Mordred scanned the area for anything suspicious. He came up with nothing, but knew better than to let down his guard; things were not always what they seemed. He was more aware of that than anyone. Even so, he caught a glimpse of Arthur's expression as they rounded a corner, of the despair so plainly written on his features. Indeed, his ignorance was not intentional.
"What these people need is work, sire, not charity. Give them employment, a purpose, so that they need not beg on the streets for handouts." Mordred had thought quite a bit about such things, having come down to the lower towns on occasions where he needed to escape the noise and brightness of court and plunge himself into the cold water of reality. Perhaps it wasn't his place to advise the King on how to handle the poverty in his own kingdom, but Mordred had never been one to hold his tongue when he felt that something needed to be said.
By and by, they left the lower towns and gradually returned to the city's center. The difference was jarring, and Mordred suddenly found himself very weary. He wondered silently if Arthur felt the same way.
