Lost in the repetition of rolling and grilling bread after bread, I had completely tuned out my surroundings. More than a movement had passed, and I had made more flatbreads than I’d ever even seen before. Sweat dripped down my forehead from the heat of the fire under the late summer sun, and my arms ached from the constant effort. Still, I had a smile on my face as I worked.
It took me longer than it should have to realize that all of the ambient noise had faded and an unnatural stillness hung in the air. I looked up from my work and saw that the people of the slums had stopped eating and were prostrating themselves upon the ground. The focus of their reverence was a group of knights in gilded armor, standing guard around a regal, yet remarkably bland figure. The Second Prince.
He surveyed the camp and the commoners before him with a dispassionate gaze. His silver hair, the only remarkable thing about him, glistened in the evening sun. He didn’t even bother to hide his disdain when his eyes came to rest on the beastmen that I was working alongside. However, he looked right past me, as if he hadn’t recognized me.
“Where is Julien de Ramport?” he demanded, looking around expectantly, “We entrusted you beasts with one of our precious citizens and I expect him to be in good condition.”
“Ay, he’s here and doing a hell of a lot better than he was in your care,” I heard Vargas call out. A few of the beastmen snickered at his comment.
The Second Prince’s face contorted with rage and he kicked the closest commoner to him with all of his might. The man let out a muffled cry and clutched his now broken ribs as the Second Prince shouted, “What is wrong with you people?! Taking charity from the monsters that have ravaged our lands until now! Have you no shame?”
I rose from my position by the fire, legs stiff from sitting on the ground for so long. I walked toward the Second Prince, desperately trying to control my anger. The sight of him so easily abusing someone who was innocent of any crime, made it hard for me to remember that I shouldn’t use my voice. Feigning calm, I stopped in front of him and bowed deeply in silence.
I held that position for some time until I felt movement around me. I saw familiar shadows move closer to mine on either side and realized that Andrian and Vargas were now with me. Their presence gave me courage and I raised my head to meet the Second Prince's gaze. His eyes widened a little when they met mine, emerald green and remarkably similar to my father's. Yes, he recognized me now.
“May we please present to you, O good and noble human Prince guy, the precious citizen you’ve been seeking so desperately that you would strike down a helpless citizen in your concern,” Vargas said in a sardonic voice.
The Second Prince clenched his fists and from behind gritted teeth he said, “It would serve you well to learn proper etiquette if you are to remain in my city. I am Royal. It is my Gods’ given right to treat these people as I see fit. You would do well to remember that.”
“Vargas,” Andrian warned, silencing whatever retort Vargas was about to make. He turned to the Second Prince, and spoke as I had taught him to, “Your Highness, I apologize for Vargas’s rudeness. He is a mere guard who does not know his place.”
The Second Prince, slightly taken aback by Andrian’s cordial speech, responded, “Ah, very well then. See to it that you do.” He sounded as if he were being forced to swallow something bitter, his distaste apparent.
“As you can see, the Marquis Julien de Ramport is not only present, but in excellent condition,” I heard Rastari say from off to the side. I looked in the direction of his voice and saw his dark and striking figure moving toward us.
“Excellent condition?” the Second Prince scoffed, looking me up and down scornfully. “Dressed in rags, dirty, reeking of sweat, and forced to do slave labor over a hot fire. How dare you call that excellent condition? Do you think he is a commoner?”
Rastari considered me for a moment and answered, “Well, I can’t deny that he could use a bath, but if I’m not mistaken, he volunteered to help. Although, I suppose ‘volunteer’ means something closer to ‘do it or else’ to someone like you, now doesn’t it?” Rastari matched the Second Prince’s contempt, sneer for sneer.
“Ah, Your Highness, it is good to see you well,” Shidah stepped forward, greeting the Second Prince warmly in an attempt to keep things from escalating, “Thank you for coming all this way to escort us.”
Andrian had learned the basics of etiquette from me, what little I knew, but where Shidah had learned it was unknown to me. I was grateful to whoever had taught him, as the Second Prince lost some steam when he came face to face with Shidah’s towering figure and polite words.
“Yes, you should be thanking me,” the Second Prince muttered, failing to hide his discomfort, “coming to this hellish part of the city and exposing myself to this filth.” He scowled deeply, showing the most emotion I’d ever seen him show, and looked himself over as if checking for contamination.
Then, as if it had only been an illusion, his usual bored expression returned and he said, “But of course, I insisted on coming to greet you. The last time Marquis Julien entered the city, I was there to escort him, so it is only fitting that it should be me who performs that duty again. We have such fond memories together, don’t we Julien? We should take the time to have a nice talk about it, and reminisce about times past. Just the two of us. Alone. Shall we do that, Marquis Julien?”
He held himself with his usual disinterested air, but what I saw in his eyes struck fear into my heart. It was the same as when he’d casually spoken of torturing and killing me before. I’d been overconfident, hadn’t I? The Second Prince, who hid his darkness beneath that bored expression, still terrified me. He was capable of great cruelty and had the power to get away with it, just like my father. I shuddered under his malevolent gaze.
Sensing my discomfort, Andrian wrapped an arm around my waist and said, “I understand my mate's expressions and gestures better than anyone, so if you wish to talk to him, I would be honored to accompany you to help him communicate.” Then he turned to me with a reassuring smile and asked, “Shall we get ourselves ready to go to the Palace?”
I turned away from the Second Prince and looked at the man who was mine. Immediately, my fear was quelled. This time, I wasn’t alone. I was surrounded by people who would keep me safe. I nodded gratefully at his question.
“Actually, fancy mister Prince man sir, as Fa–Julien’s personal guard, I am honor bound to stay by his side at all times,” Vargas bluffed, “I swore upon the spirits that I would never let him out of my sight, and my manhood might shrivel up if I do. So I’ll have to come with you too, for the sake of my future cubs.”
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The Second Prince looked apoplectic. It took every ounce of willpower I had to suppress the laughter that bubbled up in my throat. I pressed my face into Andrian’s chest to hide my smile and prayed that the Second Prince hadn’t seen it.
His knights moved as if to attack Vargas for his insolence, but the Second Prince stayed their attack with a wave of his hand. “I promised my dear brother we wouldn’t cause a scene with the beasts, so we shall have to let this unsightliness slide.” He looked at me just as I’d become confident I could keep a straight face and raised my head, but he seemed to see right through my facade. His nostrils flared and his eyes flashed, but all he said was, “Very well. Get yourself ready and be quick about it.”
We immediately went to our tent, which Andrian had set up while I was making flatbread. I started to gather whatever I thought was necessary; a couple changes of clothes, the sword I had used when hunting monsters, and some potion ingredients I knew I wouldn’t be able to find in the Palace. I wasn’t planning on practicing my craft while we were here, but I thought it might be useful to have them anyway.
I also found a healing potion that was already prepared and slipped it into the pocket of my new clothes. We didn’t have time to find a river for a proper bath, but we poured some drinking water into a basin and washed ourselves with rags. I couldn’t say I felt clean, but the worst of the sweat, dirt, and flour had been washed away.
Washed, changed, and packed, we hurried back to where the Second Prince awaited us. We didn’t want to keep him waiting for too long, lest he begin venting his frustrations on the people of the slums. The other three generals who came to the Palace the first time were waiting for us, and Vargas trailed behind us, having waited for us outside our tent. My “personal guard” would be following Andrian and I everywhere we went for the duration of our visit.
The slum dwellers were still frozen on the ground, too afraid to rise from their deferential poses, let alone continue to eat. I saw the man the Second Prince had kicked earlier, still lying on the ground, holding his side and struggling to breathe. As I approached, I could hear a rattle in his breath that made me think that his broken rib might have punctured one of his lungs.
Without acknowledging the Second Prince, I went straight over to the man and knelt before him. Seeing my shadow overlap his, he looked up at me. When he saw my concerned face, the man shuddered in fear and began prostrating himself once more.
“M-My Lord–,” he wheezed, bowing his head, “I-I’m so – sorry. We didn’t – know – it was – you.” His words came out in gasps, his pain evident in every syllable.
I didn’t answer him of course, but I pulled the healing potion from my pocket and presented it to him with a bowed head. It took a moment, but the man eventually raised his head. He looked at me incredulously before hesitantly taking the proffered potion.
“My – Lord,” he choked, “I – don’t – understand…”
“Drink it,” Andrian said from behind me, “it’s something that will help with the pain.”
Doubtful, but seeing no better option, the man uncorked the bottle and gulped down the liquid inside. He grimaced at the taste, but his eyes widened as he felt his lung and ribs healing, and the unbearable pain subsided. His doubt turned to awe as he took a deep breath and realized that the potentially life-threatening injury was completely healed.
“Marquis!” he exclaimed in a reverent voice, “but… but how?”
“In Vrayna, he is Marquis Julien de Ramport, but in the Beastlands, he is a talented apprentice shaman,” Rastari explained on my behalf, speaking gently to the awed but fearful man. I hadn’t noticed that he had followed us, and his resonant voice startled me a bit. “What you just drank is a potion designed to target injuries in the body and fix them. The Marquis brewed this potion himself, thinking about what he could do for the people of this nation. He wants to save his people from their suffering.”
I raised an eyebrow at that last part. I had thought he’d let it go, but it seemed Rastari was still thinking about our conversation in the trading city. Over the past few months, I had considered his ideas, but I wasn’t the right person for the task. I wanted to live in peace, not live with the knowledge that every time a revolutionary died at the hands of the more powerful nobility, it was all my fault. I didn't want to be the spark that ignited the flame of rebellion. I just wanted to be Falyn, apprentice shaman and Andrian's mate. It was a good life for me.
What Rastari had said wasn't technically a lie, since the whole point of a healing potion was to save someone from suffering, but he had twisted the truth to suit his own purposes. I didn't like it though, because it felt like he was laying the groundwork to give me a role I wasn't willing to accept.
“What on earth is that nonsense you’re spouting?” the Second Prince asked impatiently.
Before Rastari could make things even worse, Andrian stepped in and said, “My mate is an apprentice shaman. He is training under a respected potion master and wanted to practice his craft during our travels. The potion he fed to this man is the result of that practice.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” the Second Prince brushed him off, “Ramport is not a house that is capable of magic. Whatever farce you are planning, you can stop it right now.”
Any further attempts to convince him would only reveal things we wanted to keep hidden, so Rastari let it go without any further argument.
The Second Prince and his knights waited for us to get our horses and then we rode into the city. As we were departing, I heard a small commotion behind us, and saw that the people of the slums had finally gotten up and began eating again. The wolf beastmen were already back to handing out bowls of vegetable stew, trail cookies, and freshly grilled bread to the grateful, starving masses.
As we passed through the slums, we were moved against the flow of traffic. Word travelled quickly and people began to emerge from their shacks to make their way to the beast camp, having heard promises of free food and fair treatment. Wherever we passed, they fell to the ground and prostrated themselves before the Second Prince and his retinue. But as soon as we’d passed, they were back on their feet and rushing toward the prospect of a full stomach.
From the slums we entered the main city, passing quickly through the commercial and residential districts until we reached the golden gates of the inner city of Luz Dorada.
“His Royal Highness, Prince Eduard de Vray returns!” one of the knights shouted as they opened the gate. It was the same announcement they’d made when we'd entered the city before, but this time the knight added, “and welcome Marquis Julien de Ramport, who has returned alive from the Beastlands!”
“Long live his Highness! Long live Prince Eduard!” the knights on the wall called out, cheering our arrival. “Long live the Marquis!”
There was no announcement for the beastmen who accompanied us, but they didn’t seem bothered by that fact at all. We passed through the gates into the inner city. The people here didn’t fall to the ground in fear at the sight of their Prince. Rather, they held their heads up high as they cheered for the Second Prince, hoping to catch his attention, if only for a moment. The difference in attitude caused by a mere accident of birth was astounding to me now. I couldn’t understand why the people on this side of the wall mattered more than the people on the outskirts of the city. Was noble blood truly such a valuable thing?
The inner city was as pristine as I remembered, yet seemed all the more offensive, having just emerged from the slums. There was not a single piece of debris to be found on the smooth stone streets, and everything was perfect in every way. The streets were perfect, the buildings were perfect, the people were perfect. Every person I saw was happy, well fed, and immaculately dressed, be they professionals or aimless young nobles with nothing to do but gossip and lounge about on perfect patios.
And that perfect world paused for a moment at our passing, every eye drawn to their Royal Prince escorting five beastmen and one human toward the Golden Palace.
In the distance, the Golden Palace stood proudly, shining its glory over the city. It glittered and sparkled in a brilliant deep saffron hue as the sun began to set. The last time I had entered the Golden Palace, my world had changed drastically. This was the place where my life had been given back to me, but it was also the place where my life had almost been taken from me.
With incredibly mixed emotions, I rode toward the gates of the Golden Palace.