Everyone knows which knight is the Prince's favorite.
His armor is well made, with engravings of the Prince's sigil. His cloak has embroidery and trim in blood red and gold, the very same colors favored by his highness.
But the most damning evidence of all is the knight's assignment and schedule.
He's never sent out on anything that takes the party away from the castle for longer than a week, he's always assigned to guard the Prince's chamber doors, the hallway to his room, or often the Prince himself.
They spend a great deal of time together, that knight and the Prince.
Or I should say, they used to spend a great deal of time together.
The Prince got a bedwarmer. They've been nearly inseparable.
No, no, I don't just mean they've been in His Highness' bedchambers, what kind of pervert do you think I am? No, they've been to the royal gardens, the palace library, even the town's market. Anywhere its appropriate to take a bedwarmer, really. A few places its not. The Prince does still spend time with that knight– in the more official places. Court, balls, the like. I would almost think that poor thing is being replaced, but...
Well... Fine. But you didn't hear this from me, yeah?
I just think... That bedwarmer is rather muscular, for what he is. The more subtle-looking kind of muscle you get from working hard, not from trying to show off. And– again you didn't hear this from me– I saw them once. His Highness and his toy. They– what? No, if you'd seen them you'd agree. I don't care if it's rude to say– that young man was the Prince's toy.
Now then, back to what I was saying. They were in the library, His Highness was lounging in one of those big red chairs by the fireplace, a leather-bound book in one hand, his other running through his bedwarmer's hair. That young man– I was almost jealous of him. He looked so very blissed out, kneeling between the Prince's feet, eyes closed, his face pressed against breeches unlaced just enough...
You know what I mean, I shouldn't have to spell it out for you. It wasn't just the Prince's bed he was keeping warm, shall we say. The point is that the bedwarmer's shirt was trown to the side, and I could see his skin. What– stop calling me a pervert! This is relevant! What kind of bedwarmer has that many scars! Smaller ones, larger ones, I swear I could even see where he'd been hit by an arrow once. What bedwarmer is getting into situations that dangerous?
Unless... Unless he's not a bedwarmer at all.
Yes, I'm saying that the bedwarmer and the knight are the same person. God, you're no fun at all. Next time I'm telling Esmond first, he's lovely to gossip with.