Vineyards spread across the hills of the Renadan countryside. Vines, laden in grapes grew so close to the road, travelers need not stop at roadside inns for refreshment.
Felderon reached for a bunch of grapes as he sat atop his horse, tipped his head back, and dropped them into his mouth. "Renadan wines are famous abroad, but they say Renadan women prefer vinegar." He smacked his lips. "Keeps them young."
"I can well believe it, from where I sit," Thoran, the prince's manservant, reached for a bunch of grapes. "That milkmaid who we passed a mile back--did you notice? Fair as a lily."
"Aye. And she noticed me noticing. She was bold enough to curl her lip at me."
"Never fall for a milkmaid--that's what Mother says." Travers, who was no more than stable boy turned manservant, sat behind Thoran, scratching his bottom. (Sixth princes had to make do with what servants they could get.) "Man hands--from all that squeezing. Just imagine--"
"I'd rather not, if you don't mind," Felderon said.
"I just meant--don't take too hard the refusal of a milking maid!" Travers spat a cheekful of grape seeds onto the road.
"Why would I care for a refusal where I made no proposal?"
"Of course you wouldn't! The whole idea is ridiculous! A prince and a milkmaid? Just because you've no money and no prospects doesn't mean you'd stoop..."
"Enough! Travers! I won't marry at all."
"Of course, Your Highness," Thoran said. "Nor should you condescend to do so. Let the other princes carry on the bloodline. You've got us--at least for, er, a little while. Anyway, you've got Travers! Betcha he'll never get a wife. And he's young! You'll die before you're rid of him--"
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"Enough! I appreciate the thought, Thoran, truly I do." Felderon's shoulders slumped. "But there's only so much of that kind of consolation I can bear."
The traveling party lapsed to silence for a space. Then the road merged with another and then another. Soon the highway teemed with travelers--all of them destined for the Palacio de la Renada--the summer palace of King Olanda.
The Kingdom of Renada was hosting the World Fair, wherein all of the finest goods and technologies of the past decade would be showcased in one splendid venue. It was a remarkable event--and all of the first Kingdoms of the continent would appear to display and also to view marvels of human craft and ingenuity.
The Fair was the event of the decade, a place to see and be seen. The happenings of the next several weeks would topple dragons. New stars would rise up to take their places. And powerful kings would hold court in the center of it all.
Crowded venues were ideal for self-reinventions. Prince Felderon was counting on it. Pity he had no better entourage to make his entrance. He might have traveled with his mother, but that would have been a different kind of shame. No—he’d have to make the most of his stolen horse and humble manservants. No one expected any better for him, and the crowds would scarcely even notice them. Vindication would come later. Better to bide his time.
Palacio de la Renada crowned a peak of perfect symmetry in the southern Mensa Range. Crimson flags flying the royal dragon's crest danced in the mountain wind. White, alabaster walls framed with terra-cotta tiles shone like a red sun above the pale, stone built city.
Broad terraces spilled down to a spacious garden courtyard. Lush patio gardens surrounded the exterior white walls. The palace was the boast of the Three Kingdoms, all surrounded by a national treasure of rich olive groves spilling down to the sun splashed sea.
Below the palace, the wealth of the realm shone from every corner of the city. Novel stone architecture, a wealth of fabrics, fruits, imported spices--a kingdom of kingdoms!
Felderon considered the stones in his saddle bags. Even in this place of wealth and staggering beauty—the stone mirrors were worthy.