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Mateo had just returned back to the castle after scouting a nearby orc village that was notably growing more and more closer to the kingdom, so not only was he exhausted, but he was also still jumpy. His body ache and his stomach growled. The caravan his group had came with in the scout provided enough weapons and medicine, but it didn't provide enough food, so being the good natured man he was, gave his rations to his injured brother-in-arms.
He was currently on guard duty, and as much as he tried to resist, his stomach's consisted growling had convinced him to walk to the castle's underground pantry. With his tired eyes casted by the torches, he passed by the aging mead and walked towards where he knew the chambermaids kept the food in, he was about to enter, but stopped when he heard shuffling and munching inside.
It was late, and it has been hours ago since he had seen fellow peasants in the castle so Mateo's, which he must admit was a poor reaction to his part, first actions was to draw his sword and glare directly at the perpetrator inside the pantry, but he soon widens his eyes in complete horror when he saw who was standing in the sharp end of his blade.
Their royal highness, you.
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