Christopher smoothed his hands down the front of his dark brown tunic as he looked at himself in the full length mirror. The bruises were now mostly faint yellow stains on his skin since no fresh ones had overlaid the old because of new beatings. His shoulder was also almost quite recovered. Despite his sharpness about quack doctors, the king’s physician was not one of those. She was an actual scientist and had given him anti-inflammatory herbs and told him to keep his arm in a sling for a week before seeing her again. She would reassess at that time if he needed other treatment. He truly was going to be fine as he had claimed before, but now he meant it. He adjusted the collar of the black undershirt and cleaned off the slightest blemish on his knee-high leather boots. The clothes were of excellent quality. Nothing like Finn’s of course, but something that a wealthy tradesman’s son would wear. Something his father had always insisted he pretend to be. Oh, perhaps there had been a year or two after Christopher was born when his father truly was doing well financially, but that was a long time ago. Now he actually was financially stable rather than just playing like he was.