A stroll through a magical forest isn't really so fun when there are faeries plucking and grabbing clumps of your hair, elves attempting to set your clothes on fire, and trolls poking your vulnerable skin with their needle-like fingers.
Unfortuna...
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Fier licked Asagai's ankles as they strutted towards the other side of the kingdom's square together.
The sun was almost already setting, with vibrant hues of scarlet and blue intertwining with each other and forming a slight shade of purple in between. The boy had never paid attention to the sun back in Xaddercrux — not that he didn't care, but it was just impossible to witness it because of the large silver castle blocking the view.
Emberchase had let him go after that small parade ended, though the boy still felt the disappointment ebbing from the man with the scarred face. Well, the young one had once told him that he didn't want to continue his unproductive trade and just wanted to focus on fire-dancing, but now he was at it again.
Stealing was fun, especially when the loot turned out rare and the victims were easy prey. It appeared especially enjoyable for the thief this time around; there would be no more of those buff, lazy barbarians waiting for him by the battlements to wring the prize out of him by force.
The boy found himself staring into the slightly deformed fountain once more, his reflection rippling violently from all the splashing and tossing of coins. He still couldn't understand why the townsfolk wasted such valuable things.
Speaking of which, he remembered the nobleman who had walked through the town earlier, his guards seemingly armed to the teeth as they kept the folks at a safe distance. He was indeed as beautiful as the townsfolk had claimed him to be.
Prince Cosimo of Amoria, the fairest of all.
Even he himself couldn't understand why such a title had been given before, when he saw the prince in person, he began thinking otherwise. Indeed, he was fair, with those azure irises reflecting the skies and luscious lips one would think belonged to a woman's. 'Unrealistically beautiful,' was the proper word for such a dainty, small face with rosy cheeks and chiseled jawlines.
The Prince had gazed upon the performing players with growing fascination, like a child selecting his favorite toy for the day, before settling with the minstrel women who had sung their songs near the fountain. There were few murmurs of confusion when the bards had been escorted by the guards, but none of the peasants spoke out loud and dared asked the burning question scorching everyone's tongues.
What was he to do with those he had selected?
Emberchase himself had no such answer, but as usual, he knew about the rumours and tales wrapping the gorgeous prince like a blanket he couldn't get rid of. Asagai had asked him once, when the Prince had passed and the hustle had resumed, twice, when they had eaten their special hedgehog and wild boar meat for lunch, and thrice, after the scarred man had spotted a conman trying to get Fier into a cage and they had entered a long debate. But Asagai had no such success in prying out some good stories.
