Don't look now, but it's part 13!

He was hammering out behind a small stone building. A large table appeared to be taking shape under his hands. He looked around at a small village. He felt a sudden unease, for no reason he could place; he was just going about his trade. He looked to the sky — no dark clouds; sun shining. He looked at the table beneath his hands: thick, dark wood. He heaved it over and saw some intricate inlay.

“Conall!” a woman’s voice called. He turned to the mossy building and saw a woman with graying hair walking toward him.

“Mother,” he smiled.

She bent to look at the carving and ran her hand over it. “Conall, this is beautiful. The princess will be mighty pleased.” She straightened and looked at her son, a grim smile on her face. “This is not the extent of her desires for you, you know.”

He resumed hammering, although he had finished the table completely. “I don’t know why you say such things.”

“My son, my heart, I know you see what I do. What need has she of more tables?” He was silent. “I know your answer for her. But you must take care. She holds her father too much in her sway. It has been rumored that she has sent for some new … advisers. No one will say more than that, but there is fear in their eyes when they speak of it.”

“There’s nothing to be concerned about. Advisers or no advisers, I have no interest in the whims of the princess. And that,” he set the heavy table on its feet, “is the end of that. But we need the money this will bring.”

“We can get the money through other means. Other requests.”

“There is no reason to do other than we are doing. The faire is in a month. We will sell much as carpenters to the royal family.”

His mother smiled wanly and went back inside.