One
Camelot was a busy place. The citadel looked like it needed a lot of taking care of. Surely it equally took a lot of people to take care of it? Meaning this was the ideal place to look for work, Lily thought, as she took one optimistic step after another. With each step the grey-white building started getting closer and closer, more spectacular and more intimidating.
But still, the girl was going to continue. Until she had to come to a stop –she was moving with the swarming crowd until they seemed to halt in their tracks and part. Lily copied them and soon spotted a young man coming down the recently cleared path.
He had a sword by his side but was not in chainmail like the three or four men behind him who made up his entourage. And despite being slightly shorter than them, he stood perfectly tall with broad shoulders back. His face was set in a regal version of blasé as he looked straight ahead. Except when a few of the townsfolk closest to him bowed, his eyes acknowledged them and he made a subtle nod.
People were bowing? Of course, that must be the prince of Camelot, Lily realised. And as he passed her in his red tunic with dark trousers and boots, she found her true calling: she was going to be Arthur's stylist.