1The bread was stale again. It usually was. Nicholas had little taste for the finer foods in life as he was more accustomed to stale bread, nearly sour milk, and the like. Tonight was no different. He took the meal offered him by the old lady with kind eyes, and slipped out the back. Maneuvering his way through the barn, he found his room at the far end. It was a loft space, and so small he could barely stand in it. It was warm, however, and the distance it provided him from everyone else in the home was something he enjoyed. Another quiet meal to be enjoyed without the menacing or disdainful glances he always received in the main house.

Nicholas climbed the small ladder enough to deposit his food, and then finished the trek upwards until he was nestled into his tattered throw. It's smell was musky and reminiscent of the horses he spent most of his time with. He found the fragrance comforting, and wrapped it tighter around himself as reached for his food to devour it hungrily. He ate in the dark. He had precious few candles remaining, and those he had stolen from the maids inside the house. Food did not require illumination, but music did. He would save the precious hours of light he had hidden away for himself for that.

His meal was scarcely sufficient and therefore took little time to finish. He felt his stomach rumble in protest. His Lord had entertained each night for nearly a week, and once the other servants had taken their fill of what was left - there had been precious little left for him. His stomach rumbled in protest, and he knew he would have to depend on his own devices tonight. He glanced to the stained and heavy duffel hidden carefully in the corner of his small space with longing. He desired more than anything else to simply sit and read, write, or play upon his small toy music box. Those things would have to wait, however. Resigned, the young boy descended the stairs again and walked through the stalls toward his favorite chestnut mare.

The horse snorted in recognition as he neared her, and dipped her large head to be stroked affectionately by her caretaker. Nicholas easily mounted the horse, preferring to ride without a saddle. It made him feel more connected to the enormous strength beneath him, and with a soft clicking sound he encouraged her out of the stable.

He would be lashed if he were caught taking a horse, again, and so he was as quiet as he could manage until he was out of sight of his home. Then he spurred the horse on freely, and she seemed to delight in the late evening ride as much as he. For a moment, he almost forgot he was hungry. Horse and rider became one as they wound through the nearly quiet city streets of Paris. Most of the residents were inside of their homes already, with a scattered few walking hand in hand beneath the lamp light. That is, until he neared the DeChagny estate. The sound of music filled the courtyard and radiated from the entire estate. An array of coaches waited by the curb, and the sound of talking and laughter could be heard even upon the streets outside. Whatever was going on inside, was obviously an opulent event. Nicholas spurred his horse on, before anyone could see the dirty stable boy on the borrowed horse.

The street inadvertently wound about the back of the large estate, before it continued onward. Just as the music seemed to be behind him, Nicholas heard the frenzied tot-a-lot of horses hooves. It certainly was not his mares, as he had settled her to a slow trot once they were hidden in the shadows again. This road led out of the city proper, and toward the more rural areas where the poor lived. The streetlights had waned, and in the darkness Nicholas glanced over his shoulder. A smaller man was riding toward him hastily, though Nicholas could not see his face for the hood tossed over it. The other rider was glancing over his shoulder as though he were being chased. Nicholas' curiosity had distracted him so, that he didn't realize he had turned his horse aside in the road and quite nearly blocked the entire path. The gentleman approaching had not even looked ahead, and it was only seconds before a collision that Nicholas realized his error and dug his heels into the chestnut side of his favorite horse. She responded by dashing forward, and he quickly turned just in time to see the black stallion that the other rider was mounted on buck - it's hooves flaying wildly in the air in it's fright. The rider was tossed unceremoniously to the earth beneath. Nicholas reached out with ease and caught the reins of the frightened horse, calming it even as he slipped off of his own mount. He would have welts for this, he was sure.

"Sir, I apologize - I did not realize you were coming..."

Nicholas released the reins and stooped to help the man up. The road was sticky with the mud that a previous downpour had left behind, and he felt the massive cloak that the man was hidden beneath weighted down by it. The figure did not seem pleased with his assistance.

"Your position would suggest otherwise!" A tart voice snipped at him, and Nicholas was taken aback. It was a woman's voice.

"I.. Uh.. Mademoiselle... " Before he could speak further, the tiny figure tossed her hood back defiantly and Nicholas' breath caught in his throat. Surely he would be condemned to hell, because he had caused one of the very angels from heaven to fall into the mud.

The brilliant brown of Elizabeth DeChagny's eyes flashed with a pent up frustration. She hardly seen Nicholas when she looked over him, before casting a wary gaze over her shoulder.

"Speak of this to no one, and .. Here." The young woman shrugged off the cloak, which must have belonged to a man that was a bit larger than her, and thrust it into Nicholas's hands.

"It's dirty, but that's quite your fault. Once it is cleaned well, it is an exquisite cloak and payment for your silence."

Nicholas was still stunned to silence. Once she had removed her Father's cloak, the shape of her body beneath the rather exquisite dress she had chosen for her gala was exposed. She was perfect, beautiful..

"Well?" She stamped impatiently. "Are you suddenly mute as well?"

"No, my lady.. " Nicholas stated quietly, and for the first time Elizabeth actually looked at him. His voice was superb, an interesting melody that did not seem to suit the ragged clothes and dirty hair that was allowed to hang in his face, shielding one entire half of it from her gaze. The other half, however, was quite handsome and Elizabeth felt a pity for him. It was unfortunate that other people had to live in such dire circumstance. She sighed and reached into her pouch, pulling out a few gold coins.

The pity that flashed in her eyes was enough to shake Nicholas from his reverie, and he pulled whatever scrap of dignity he had retained about him. He quickly tossed the cloak onto the back of her steed, and mounted his own.

"I do not need your pity, nor your coins or cloak. The only price I ask for my silence, is your name."

Elizabeth was taken aback. She had never seen a pauper reject a handout, and felt slightly bruised. In a bit of a pout, she replied.

"Elizabeth," and that was all she would offer. Nicholas smiled, and she started at the power of it. In another place or lifetime, he would have been a very handsome man. Before she could ask his name, he had turned on his horse and disappeared into the darkness that swallowed the road ahead.

The mood of her reckless ride had been abated, a chance meeting with an unusual man providing as much daring as she needed for one night. Elizabeth slipped back into the saddle of her horse, this time riding like a lady. She dare not put the dirty cloak back on atop her unsoiled dress. The party continued still, she was sure, and if she hurried - she doubted anyone would have noticed her absence.