The Arayan capital of Gallenport was a city of ivory and grime, of brick and mud, of music and misery — all depending from which eyes you view it and where. Nestled in the lustrous Gallen Delta at the southern tip of West Bismuth, the city was teeming with people who either came for seasonal earnings or permanent refuge. Ships docked and left the ports every hour, bringing and taking with them a mass of people and merchandise. The position of the port city made it a true cornucopia for trade and crime.

Julius brought a whole wagon of wooden dolls with him but he did not come to Gallenport to trade.

"What's in there?" The guard shouted, giving Julius an unneeded shove.

"Dolls, Ser," he answered meekly. He lifted the dirty blanket to show his crafts to the guard.

"Fuck!" The guard winced. The life-sized dolls stared with unblinking eyes and muted lips. Some of them were already fitted with hair, some of them still crude and unfinished. "Holy Seraph, where will you need them?"

"I do some puppetry. I hope to make some money here. I come from the steppes of East Bismuth, but the hive there only keeps on growing. It will reach my village in a few months."

"Aye, I'm sad for you," the guard replied, without a tinge of compassion, "But these dolls are too big to fiddle with a string, aren't they?"

Julius gave him a calm reassuring grin. "I'm a very good puppeteer."

"And this lass, she with you?" He pointed to a girl with rich raven hair.

"Indeed, Ser, name's Apple. Her mother used to love apples when she was pregnant."

Apple regarded the guard, blinked her eyes and said, "The holy soldiers told us there is refuge here."

"Aye, but the city isn't so big, is it? You can move ahead." He banged on the wagon.

Apple sighed, exasperated "There's thousands of people lining up. Will we even get a chance, Father?"

They had been in line since the day before. However, yet another guard stood in their way. He was dressed in a holier garb, a long gray blouse with golden threadwork. At his chest was the Star of Michael — a three-pointed star with each ray shaped like a sword — denoting that he was of the Michaelic order, the chief Guardian Order of the Crown.

He held an artifact shaped exactly like the Star of Michael, with a sharp-tipped handle which he stabbed on the people's palms. Then it would glow white though faintly. It shimmered the same dim light for most of the queue, but he would just tell them to gather at one particular spot afterwards, no exceptions. Their children and goats cried while the adults scratched their heads and voiced their grudges. Nobody had gotten inside since morning.

Julius greeted warmly when it was his turn, "Wonderful morning, Holy Ser." He offered up his palm open.

The holy guard did not seem to hear. He took Julius's palm and stabbed it with no warning. Julius twitched at the sudden pain even though the pricked wound was shallow and small. He could not brace. The artifact glowed. Just slightly brighter than the farmer before him.

"Huh, you're better than most," he spoke for the first time. "Still, to the side."

Julius asked, "Excuse my curiosity good Ser, but what does this artifact do? Can you enlighten this clueless craftsman?"

He smirked proudly, "It detects holy and demonic power, although its sole purpose here is to detect demonic power. We cannot afford cursed flesh to endanger the city."

"Is that so?"

"Now move aside. We need to test your donkey too."

It didn't light up for the animal.

Julius led the donkey to join the impatient crowd of people.

"Please be gentle," Apple smiled at the holy guard.

He didn't care and stabbed her more fiercely.

"Aw!"

There was a sudden gasp on the line. "Holy Angel!" The three-bladed artifact flared as vividly as the sun. One whole leg of the star was glistening. "You have talent!" The guard was enthused, gleaming as though he unearthed a treasure.

Apple was not the least bit surprised. "Can I join my father now?"

"No, you stay on this side." He pointed to an empty patch of grass. Julius watched as Apple stood there alone. Some people on Julius's side were openly expressing their envy. "If only I was gifted by the angels as well. How much harder should I pray?"

Your hardest, Julius thought to himself, as if your whole life depended on it.

"But I want my father with me," Apple grumbled. "I don't want to be alone here."

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The guard strangely became lenient and nodded, "C'mon, join your daughter." Then he proceeded to stab the rest of the line. The artifact saw no other spectacle after them.

A sudden commotion swept through the crowd as the clinking of the portcullis being raised could be heard. They all craned to look in hopes of being allowed entry at long last.

Here he comes, Julius thought.

From beneath the shadow of the portcullis, an immaculate silver horse trotted out. It tossed its mane and neighed at its audience, as though it knew it was being watched. Its rider was an unmistakable Araia — sharp features framed by flaming golden hair reaching past his shoulders, eyes of the coldest jade and an expression of royal aloofness. Clad in a spotless cerulean doublet and a golden sash embroidered with his house's three-pronged star, the Second Prince seemed to radiate divinity. Angelic. Godly even. Julius felt the unbidden aspiration to craft a doll in his likeness one day.

"My prince, please grant us refuge!"

"Blessed son of Araia!"

"Long live Araya! Long live the king!"

They suddenly erupted into cheers of adoration but a line of armed guards kept them in line. The Arayan prince put on a smile and waved at them. At this small gesture, some of his constituents broke into tears, having received attention from their liege. The hope and holiness he exuded brightened everyone who laid eyes on his saintly facade.

Julius remained unmoved. I have seen holier things. Although, he could not deny the prince's allure — better looking than he imagined, younger. A flawless reference, if nothing else.

The second prince led his horse to the two of them, his hair bobbing and flowing with the horse's pace. He spoke tenderly, "I believe you've shown the guard a miracle."

Apple stared, bewildered. Julius could not discern if it was because of the prince's radiance or what he had just said that had left her speechless.

The prince laughed heartily, "What I mean is, the artifact of Michael rarely shines so brightly. I believe even my father in his lofty seat could have glimpsed it. Might I have the honor of knowing your name?" He stretched out a gloved hand.

"Apple," she answered, accepting his gesture with a soiled hand which the second prince did not seem to mind.

"Apple, it suits your innocence. I am Raphael."

The name of an Angel — a privilege reserved solely for those in the direct line of succession.

"You must be —" Raphael turned to Julius.

"Her father, Your Highness. The name of this humble servant is Julius. A pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure is all mine. Araya values talent, even from among the lowborn. I would like to invite you inside where we can properly talk. Your future is about to change."

"How about all of them? We've all been here since yesterday," Apple said boldly.

"My prince!" They called for him. "Your radiance, please do not abandon us."

Raphael looked to the crowd gathered on the other side, their sheep and goats shitting on trampled grass, their children picking at their noses. "Do not worry," he declared loudly, "The Captain of the Guards will be here shortly to bring you to where you can start a new life. Safe and free from danger. Please wait patiently if you can. Gallenport will always be open to anyone who needs aid and rescue."

Some cheered but some were still incredulous.

"I think that should ease their minds for now. What of you, Miss Apple? Are you reassured?"

"The Guards will really come?" She asked more softly.

Raphael peered at her, challenged by her forwardness. Not once did she address him respectfully. "I will see to it that they do. You have my word."

Julius bowed vehemently at the prince, apologetic. "Forgive my daughter's brashness. Growing up in the harsh steppes of East Bismuth emboldened her so."

"Not to fret," Prince Raphael said, "I like her boldness."

Everything was going well so far.

Tugging the donkey's reins, Julius took a long glance back at the barren expanse where a line of people waited hopelessly under the sun for a chance to find shelter in Gallenport. His quarry was nowhwere to be seen. They must be using another gate, he thought. They are not commonfolk after all. But I will see him. I will find him.

Gallenport is big, but it isn't so big. He thought as he stepped into the city, pulling his wagon of dolls.