The thing that scared Sephys most of bondage was how easy it was to get accustomed to it. He remained at the castle as a slave, but he wasn't treated very differently from the other servants that were at the castle, nor was he deprived of basic necessities. He always had clean clothes, enough food to stave away biting hunger, and a relatively warm place to sleep at night, just as everyone else serving besides him.
The castle itself didn't have many slaves to begin with, so there was no real reason to distinguish between a slave and a servant. A large part of Lhir's economy relied on the slave trade, but not many people kept slaves themselves. There were perhaps seven other slaves alongside him, and they were only there because they were given as gifts to the king.
When he first arrived at the castle, he lay in bed every night, weighing plan after plan on how to escape and return to Miiryn. Each one seemed less possible than the one before, and he had neither the energy nor the time to execute them properly. He was already under careful watch from almost everyone in the castle, it seemed, and to be caught would almost definitely mean his death. Sephys stopped thinking about escape after the second week of serving the prince. It wasn't hard work. He was mostly just bringing food up to the prince's chambers, filling his bath, dressing him, and saddling his great brown horse whenever he needed to ride. Sephys would have done anything that anyone asked of him, but people generally avoided him, and watched him like he would someday slit the throats of everyone in the castle.
Sephys didn't miss Miiryn much. His duties in the castle weren't so different from his duties in Miiryn, and here, he was never beaten for failing. Miiryn was his home, but he had never loved it growing up, and its preference for strong, lion-hearted men suited his brother more than him. Sephys clung to the few precious memories he had of Miiryn, and planned on never seeing it again.
A wave of sound washed over him as he entered the great hall, weaving in between other servers and guests taking their seats. The feast had taken just under a month to plan, and during that month, it seemed like it was the only thing that anyone in the castle could ever talk about. The cooks were understandably annoyed—they had to cook seventeen courses for the hundred guests that filled the great hall, and even more for the men that they brought along with them. But the serving girls and boys talked about the feast like they were attending as a guest themselves, instead of just running between the kitchens and great hall, carrying heavy platters of food.
Even Aaric seemed much more enthusiastic than usual, although he was excited for a completely different reason. "When the feast is over, I'll be able to go fight, and prove myself worthy to be part of the royal guard." He had announced to Sephys, grinning, "I'll be able to have Ser Gaarwain train me and defend the king and his family."
Sephys had smiled back, nodding, although he didn't understand the appeal of standing around the king all day, wearing armor that seemed to weigh several tons.
Now, he slipped behind Illyon's seat at the head of the table, a jug of watered wine in his hands. It was his job to make sure that Illyon's cup never emptied, but he was sure that he wouldn't even have to pour out half the jug before the end of the feast. The prince still didn't have much of a tolerance for wine, and took small sips at a time.
As the guests ate, several lords walked up to the table where Illyon was seated, offering congratulations and advice, and left wishing the prince the best of luck. After the seventh lord, or so, Sephys stopped listening to the lords, and averted his attention to the entertainment taking place in the empty center amidst where the tables were arranged. A fool was juggling along to the music, singing in a raucous voice. The lords laughed uproaringly, and the ladies tittered behind their hands every time the fool dropped his fruits or his voice broke on a high note.
