Heir to the throne

Chapter 2

The market was a crowded and chaotic place for someone like him. Vendors were trying to sell their goods and services to folks who were here to browse and buy. Shouts and chants meant to lure customers emanated from every stall with desperation. The potent smell of the fishermen's hauls from the nearby sea saturated the air. Sugarcane and wheat were stacked in huge piles on makeshift tables and bamboo mats. Beaded jewelry, straw sandals and slippers, and cotton tunics sewn by skilled hands were a few items available among many that caught the eyes of every passerby, but few stopped to buy.

            Their journey had started early that morning and led them to a small town on the western coast of Lokya. There was much to see and a lot to do. The excitement was growing in him, but Zyaan knew he could not become distracted for too long.

            A young boy bumped into him, his head colliding with Zyaan's hip bone. He grimaced and looked down at the emaciated child staring up at him with wondrous eyes that the poverty and filth he lived in had not yet dulled.

"Sorry," he said and then darted away into the crowd.

Zyaan watched him for a moment with curiosity and continued on his way. His focus now turned toward the display of beautiful cotton tunics. He touched the red one with an embroidered collar. The fabric was much softer than the one he wore, and he imagined it would feel so comfortable on his skin.

"Ah, red suits your fair skin. You're a handsome boy. Are you married? I know of a nice girl who is looking for a husband. You will get a good dowry," the vendor said to him.

"No thanks. My mother doesn't think I am ready for marriage."

"Tell your mother to come see me..."

Her voice faded away as Zyaan made his escape. The mention of marriage had rattled his nerves. The subject of love distracted him from his worries momentarily. In his heart, there lived a faceless image of the one who would steal his heart, as bright as the morning sun and as mysterious as the heavens. He was sure that this person did not exist.

            He scanned the booths for rice, but after realizing they were far away from any place that grew the crop, he settled for some freshly harvested vegetables instead. Maybe he could make a stew in the small pot he had brought in his bag. He didn't mind that his sack was becoming heavy. He could give his bag to Reiji to put in his horse's saddlebags.

"FRESH BREAD. FRESH BREAD. THREE TAKA EACH!"

The announcement snagged his attention. He paid for his vegetables and dropped them into his sack. He started walking toward the vendor who had laid out his baked goods on a sturdy bamboo table. A crowd was gathering, shoving, and pushing to get to the front to take advantage of the prime offer. Zyaan had noticed the scarcity of food. People were starving, eating whatever rations they could either grow or afford.

            The expanding crowd was slowly turning into an angry mob. Sensing the rising tension, he retreated. Though he liked the price, it was too much of a hassle. He searched for another bread vendor, but his eyes found Reiji purchasing dried meat instead. Such an acquisition was a luxury that few could afford.

Prompted by the sudden notion that maybe Reiji's intimidating size and build could easily slice through the crowd, he sprinted across the dirt road toward the Aisu prince who smiled as he turned and saw him.

"I got you some meat. Perhaps you can impress me with some cooking," he said.

"Good. Then can you get me some bread? Some is being sold right there," Zyaan replied as he pointed toward the swarm of people around the vendor.

Reiji looked toward the crowd and pouted. After a quick deliberation, he replied, "I'll get you bread somewhere else."

Zyaan huffed and looked at him with sour disappointment. This man lacked motivation. His laziness was as apparent as his bulky pectorals. What was the point of befriending a man like this?