Prince Acarad Allison of Glade slipped through the curtains acting as a door into his public sitting room. A simple silver comb held his hair away from his face and declared his position as Second Prince of Glade, thus second heir. He threw himself onto a lounge chair and waited for his next visitor. As though on cue, a noble woman slightly older than Acarad entered, greeting him with a curtsy.

“Lady Amiri, please sit,” Acarad said, gesturing to the available furniture. “There is no need to be formal here.”

“Prince Acarad, you are too kind,” Lady Amiri said, sitting down in a red velvet chair. “I have heard of your charity drives for the floor and that you often participate in these charity events.”

“Tat is true,” Acarad nodded. “I know many here see my actions as currying favor but I assure you, I do not play the Great Game of subtlety.”

“I am glad for that your Highness,” Lady Amiri said. “If I may be so bold, I wonder if other rumors are true.”

“What rumors my lady,” Acarad asked.

“I have been told you enjoy the company of people and animals,” Lady Amiri answered.

“I enjoy being around people and animals,” Acarad explained. “I feel more comfortable with people than without.”

“I have also heard rumors that you practice magic and mind reading.”

“I am a Wizard specifically. I learn and use spells. Mages learn and create spells.. However, I do not read minds. I take note of little things.”

“How so?”

“For example, I have seen you gravitate more toward a specific woman at court. I see you two have matching polished rings. You touch yours for reassurance. She is likely your lover, sister or wife.”

“You are correct highness,” Lady Amiri blushed. “Lady Comery is my wife. We were wed last month.”

“Congratulations.

“Thank you, my prince. I do hope you understand that we want to keep this secret.”

“I understand your fear, knowing you came from Toloc. I know it is difficult to be yourself at court here. But, I assure you that my people are far more welcoming than they seem.”

“I do not understand.”

“We welcome all, regardless of homeland, romantic and sexual preferences, and religion. I can attest to those facts. I prefer male partners, worship the Four Makers, and have family in all human lands. Noone here judges me for it.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, and I hope you become comfortable enough to be yourself.”

“If you ever want to talk to someone about it, I am always able to make time. I promise.”

“Thank you, I will keep that in mind.”

“I am glad.”

“Your highness, would you show me some of your magic?”

“Of course.”

Acarad closed his eyes, cupped his hands, right over left, and focused on what he wanted to bring to his hands. In this case, a small crystal. He murmured a few words in a dead language, and opened his hands. A small gray crystal lay in the palm of his dominant hand. Lady Amiri’s eyes lit up like a child’s.

“That was amazing,” she said.

“Summoning an inanimate object is easy, especially when it is lightweight. The heavier the object, the more difficult it is to summon,” Acarad answered.

“Could you summon people,” she asked.

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“Only if they are dead,” Acarad answered. “If they are alive when I summon them, they come to me dead. The same goes for animals and plants.”

“Peculiar...Stories tell of Wizards bringing people to them in battle,” Amiri said.

“It is possible the stories you have heard are about Wizards using portals. To make a portal is a lost ability now that the wars of old are gone.”

“What do you mean?”

“This world was, at one point,five worlds. One had dragons and sprites, ruling over their mountains, prairies, and rivers. Humans had a world of stone, water, and woods. Goblins lived in a world of forests and babbling brooks. The kyrill had oceans and islands we could never dream of. Fits had a world of fertile land made from their volcanoes. But each people destroyed their world somehow. The first Drifters helped make a new world for all six. Most technologies and forms of magic were lost to all, and now we need to find them again and hope we don’t repeat history.”

“How do you know this? What proof is there,” Lady Amiri asked.

“The Drifters came to Glade when I was about eight years old. The Earth Drifter took me aside and told me the histories and about magic. She introduced me to my mentor before she left,” Acarad answered.

“Thank you for your time, your highness,” Lady Amiri answered. She stood and brushed the wrinkles out of her dress. “I think that I have been here long enough. I do not wish to take away from your time with others.”

“Please come to me any time you wish,” Acarad answered. “I am always going to make time for others.”

“Thank you again highness,” Lady Amiri said. “I think I will join my wife in walking the gardens.”

“Then join her,” Acarad said.

Lady Amiri curtsied and slipped out the door with a small smile playing on her lips.Acarad turned to the windows, watching a page dart through the flower beds. The page disappeared around a corner and Acarad heard a light knock on the garden door.

“Enter,” the young prince called. The page stepped in and closed the door. “What do you bring me, little one?” Acarad turned and knelt down to meet the boy’s height.

“I bring you news of the ball tonight PRince Acarad,” The boy said. He held out an envelope with a light blue seal. “Lord Kiler wishes to see you beforehand.”

“Thank you little one,” Acarad said. He took the envelope. “There is a toy chest under the desk. You may choose one toy to keep.”

“Really your highness? Aren’t they yours,” the boy asked.

“I am twenty-two little one. I do not need them. Go ahead and take one,” Acarad chuckled. The boy’s eyes lit up and he walked to the desk. As the boy rummaged through the barely used toys, Acarad stood and opened the envelope. There was a paper inside, which Acarad pulled out and read.

‘My dear prince,

I know we have been courting for some time now, and I wish to be able to sing it to the world. Would you like to tell the court at the ball? Please meet me in my private rooms to talk it over.

Your lover,

Lord Elija Kiler.’

Acarad smiled and turned to the desk. The boy had settled on a little blue doll.

“Little one, would you please carry a message to Lord Kiler for me,” The prince asked.

“Yes Prince Acarad,” The boy replied.

“Just tell him I will talk to him at the noon meal,” Acarad said.

“I will tell him Prince Acarad,” the boy grinned. “Thank you for the toy.”

“You are welcome,” Acarad said “And thank you.”

The boy skipped out of the room and down the paths in the gardens. Acarad stood and walked over to his study. Books lay open on every surface, and where there weren’t books there were potion powders and old tea cups. It looked disorganized and very un-princely, but that was the genius behind Acarad’s eyes. Yes, most maic users were senile, insane, or dead, but Acarad was none of those things. He looked at people and felt what ailed them, he never knew why. Most would take his gestures, magic, and words to be a part of the Courtly Dance, but it rarely was. His chaos was his system, and his gestures were generous and real. Most of his books were about magic that could help people. He had books on combat, as any prince should. He had spell books for shields, minor curses, and weapon summoning. He had books full of spells, illusions, and Spirit speaking. Acarad opened a book in a particular subject of growing spells and combed through the rough pages until he found the one in particular he was searching for. He mumbled under his breath, naming different herbs and conditions for the spell. Acarad summoned the ingredients he needed with a flick of his wrist and a simple word.

Someone knocked on the door to his study. “Enter, but beware of floating herbs,” Acarad said. A man with wrinkles on his black skin entered the room, ducking under a cup of ginger root shavings. “Just a moment and I will be done.” Acarad summoned a large bowl and a pitcher of water. He mixed the ingredients carefully whispering in a long forgotten language to complete the spell. He set the pitcher down and summoned a ladle and several jars. “Would you like a spell to grow peach trees sir? I have plenty here.”

“No thank you my Prince,” the old man replied. “I came hoping for a rain spell, or one that would bring water to my village’s well. The summer has been dry this year.”

“You are from Heat Clinch then,” Acarad asked. He summoned a pouch of powder to his hands.

“Yes Prince,” the old man answered. “Take this pouch, sprinkle the contents on the river beds at night. Only use half a cup at a time until it is gone. The water around the bed will join the main river gradually. Come back a week after you run out and I will have a different spell for you,” Acarad said. He took a step and handed the old man the pouch. “You must be tired and hungry. You could join me for breaking our fast this morning. Then I will have a page give you a room to sleep in.”

“Thank you Prince Acarad,” the old man said. “What do I owe you?”

“A conversation is all I will accept,” Acarad answered. He smiled and shook the man’s hand.

“Are you certain,” the man asked.

“Yes, I am absolutely certain,” Acarad answered.

“Then may I take up your offer of a meal,” the man asked.

“Of course,” Acarad answered. He led the man out of his labyrinth of rooms and down the halls of the palace.

“Your highness, may I ask you a question, '' the man asked.

“As many as you would like sir,” Acarad chuckled.

“Why do you not charge anything for your services?”

“I make my potions, spells, and trinkets to see what I can do. I might as well have an excuse to do those things.”

“But you are a prince.”

“I like to think a ruler ought to be known by their deeds. Light and Star know how many rulers and nobles use their ancestors’ work and wealth to do most things. I would rather connect to the people than my fellow nobles. Those with less not only give more, but need more. I want to give and be known for that rather than for playing subtle scheming.”

“Do you see people taking advantage of that so often?”

“Unfortunately, yes, I do see more abuse of power than use of it.”

“Then you are ready. “

“I do not understand.”

Acarad turned to the man, but he was nowhere to be seen. Before Acarad could question anything, the ground swallowed him, leaving only his silver comb behind.