JOHN
The early morning sun streamed down into the workshop and John wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a black ash streak across it. The flames in the furnace in front of him leapt up higher as he stoked the embers with a metal poker.
Grabbing his tools, he reached for the pincers and the horseshoe he was fixing, heated it in the forge until it glowed red then moved it to the anvil beside it. He grabbed his hammer and began to bang it's metal head against the metal of the horseshoe causing sparks to fly.
He stopped and wiped his head again. The heat caused a sheen of sweat across his bare torso, that was covered with an apron to protect his chest from stray metal fragments. With sun bronzed skin, dirtied with streaks of soot from hours in front of the furnace, John was a hard worker. His arms were defined and toned from the labour he did as a blacksmith and his skin bore scars across his chest and back.
John balanced his life as a ‘blacksmith-in-training’ by enjoying the outdoors where he liked to spend most of his time when he wasn’t at combat training or working for his father. All villagers under a certain age were required to attend military training and lessons to prepare them for battle against the neighbouring Kingdoms. The young were considered to be best to undertake the stamina needed for war.
A few admiring glances were sent John’s way from some young maidens as they passed his shop in the marketplace. He gave them a half smile as they giggled past him.
His good friend, the Prince, arrived, knocking on the outer beam of the workshop shack to let him know he was there to pick John up for school. Although from different worlds, Prince Sabian was one of John’s closest friends as was he to the Prince. They had grown up together, the King and Queen had encouraged the friendship after their daughter, Sabian’s sister, had disappeared. John’s mother had been Sabian’s nanny so they had played together and grown close like brothers.
Prince Sabian was as tall as John and with a similar physique, they were often pitted against each other at training.
“Come on my friend, let’s go before we are late.” Prince Sabian said, nonchalantly picking up a horseshoe as he spoke before flinging it at John.
John ducked and caught it, luckily stopping it from hitting anything else in the cluttered workshop.
“I’ll just wash up quickly and I’ll be with you.” John said, putting his tools away and taking his leather apron off.
The Prince nodded before turning his attention to the thoroughfare of the marketplace outside.
“Father, I’m off to my lessons now.” John called out to his father who was banging shape into a sword and didn’t hear him. John shrugged.
“I’ll be back soon.” He said, addressing the Prince who was waving at someone walking past.
“Sure, just hurry up about it.” The Prince said, continuing to watch what was happening outside.
John quickly rushed out the back and across the meadow to his house which he lived in with his parents. He strode inside and his mother was baking bread in the small kitchen.
“Morning John.” She called to him as he walked by, her voice joyful at seeing him. He and his father often left for the workshop in the early hours, before the heat of the day so he usually only saw his mother at the end of the day.
“Morning mother.” He replied.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
“The Prince has come to pick me up for lessons.” He called out from his room as he found some fresh clothes and grabbed a bowl, pouring water into it. He got a cloth and washed his face, arms and hands. Using a towel to dry off, he changed into his new clothes and put the others on the end of his bed.
“Already? He’s early this morning, very unlike him.” His mother replied.
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“Yes, I think he has decided to be more diligent so that he can win his father’s approval.” John said, coming out of his room and walking across to give his mother a peck on the cheek.
“Have a lovely day dear.” She said and smiled.
“You too mother, I’ll be back later on.” He said as he quickly made his way out the door. He jogged back to the workshop where Prince Sabian was leaning up against a beam watching John’s father work.
“Finally! Let’s go.” The Prince chided John and they walked out of the shack and onto the main thoroughfare of the village, the Prince’s bodyguards falling into step behind them.
The marketplace was busy already, dawn had just broken, dewy mist still hung in the air – the farmers made the most of the coolness, produce looked better and fared better at that time of the morning.
Prince Sabian walked confidently through the market square, tipping his head in greeting to people he knew as he went. John, strode beside him.
“You’re so kind to these people, no wonder you're well loved.” John said sarcastically.
The people thought of Prince Sabian as an arrogant young man who needed to be more down to earth, like John. His ego was large and John worried that it might one day implode on him, but he also knew that his friend was actually putting on a brave front, his family had been through so much and Sabian had taken on a lot of his parents pain.
“I know John, and it really isn't hard to maintain this kind of reputation. A few hellos here and there, keeps the crowds wanting more.” Prince Sabian said as he picked up an apple from a stall as they walked by, not stopping to pay. The farmer raised his hand in an attempt to complain, but John quickly shot him a look and shook his head to signal to silence him. Prince Sabian strode on, John quickly flicked the farmer a coin of his own to make payment.
“You’re a good man John.” The farmer whispered. “If only your friend would follow in YOUR footsteps.”
John looked him in the eye.
“Unfortunately, I shall have to ask you to refrain from such comments and hold your tongue friend as comments like that could be considered treason.” He said jokingly and smiled at the man.
The Farmer gave him a lopsided grin and bowed his head in acceptance and John did the same, giving the farmer a small nod.
“Good day sir.” John smiled as he turned and hurried quickly to catch up to the Prince who was still spouting a monologue about himself between bites of his apple. He hadn't even realised that John hadn't been beside him the entire time.
“Come on.” John laughed. “We’re late for class.”
“I was early to get you this morning, so you are the one who had made us late, not I.” Frowned the Prince. “And besides, class starts when I arrive.”
“Not in Sir Burdock’s opinion it doesn't, come on.' John said and slapped his friend on his back gently guided him along faster. The knight Sir Burdock and Prince Sabian’s father the King were the only two people in the Kingdom that didn't take any of the Princes’ airs. The Prince was always incredibly respectful in their company – something that John hoped would one day carry through to his attitude towards the rest of the people in the Kingdom.
Pushing back the wooden doors of the classroom, the Prince and John made their entrance. John looked in the direction of their desk and made his way to it, the Prince stopped as if waiting to be welcomed.
“Nice of you to join us, Sabian.” Sir Burdock’s voice boomed from the front of the room, not addressing him by his title which John knew meant that the older man was annoyed with the young Prince.
“Take your seat before I bring the seat to your precious backside.” Sir Burdock said with a stern tone.
The class stifled giggles, John saw the Prince’s cheeks glow red in embarrassment. Prince Sabian opened his mouth to say something, but with the glowering look from Sir Burdock, thought better of it and made his way quickly to sit beside John.
Sir Burdock was a tower of a man, pure brute strength with great intellect, he was the King and Queen’s closest and most trusted confidant. He had been a General of thousands but was now retired after being wounded in battle after he was struck by rock that had been launched by a catapult. Lucky to have survived, he now taught and trained the new generation of would be soldiers.
Having seen many skirmishes over the past ten years since the warring had begun, Sir Burdock bore the scars to prove it. With a trimmed snowy white beard and hair, he was often mistaken for being much older than he was, the stress of war having altered his appearance over time. John noted that as Sir Burdock stood in his cloth clothes, he looked quite different to how he looked in his armour.
John settled in on his chair and waited as the older man went to speak but was interrupted as a messenger burst through the doors.
“By Airius’s fire, what is it now?!” Sir Burdock yelled.
The messenger ignored him and frantically searched the room looking for someone. With a look of recognition as his eyes turned to John and the Prince and he came running over to them.
“Prince Sabian, you must hurry and come with me. Your father needs you urgently.”