The Prince's Mark

Chapter One

 The wagon juddered twice as it rolled onto the stone road leading into the city of Shalen. Tracou poked his head out of the front of his wagon just in time to catch some humans giving his wagon uneasy looks. They were used to seeing horses pulling wagons, but Tracou, a dezmek, didn't need them. His magic was more than good enough. He wasn't going to buy horses and take care of them just to keep a few humans from staring at him.

Each time he visited Shalen it seemed like the city grew steadily outward. Unlike Dezmer, a nation where few, if any, foreigners visited, Aodehn was the hub of the continent. Aodehn's capital, Shalen, was particularly popular. Humans, dezmek, and elves all could spend time in Shalen. Tracou had never seen an elf, though, so the acceptance of elves in Shalen was more hypothetical than something that was regularly put into practice.

In the summer, Shalen hosted the Gathering of Merchants. The city was full to bursting because of it, making traveling with a wagon inefficient. Mere minutes after entering the city, Tracou found himself stuck behind a wagon larger than his. It commanded the road so thoroughly that pedestrians ducked between buildings so they wouldn't have to squeeze past it. Doubtless that wagon was part of a merchant's caravan. Tracou moved to sit in the front of his wagon, his short dezmek legs dangling off the side, to try and get a better look at any wares he could. The Gathering wasn't meant to begin until tomorrow and this caravan took that seriously, having covered their merchandise with blankets.

The way this city could get so busy that it brought things to a halt had been baffling to Tracou the first time he had made the journey from Dezmer to Aodehn. The village he presided over was minuscule and even the capital of Dezmer never had so many people within its walls at once. Dezmek were typically smaller than humans, but that couldn't have anything to do with it. Right?

Once traffic had lightened, Tracou made for an inn. Considering the volume of people that had arrived and were due to arrive over the course of the week, getting a room was high priority. His wagon, while decent enough for sleeping on the road, was nothing compared to an actual bed.

A bed and a place for his wagon was pricier than he would have liked. Seeing his sour expression, the innkeeper told him that taxes had gone up. Hopefully that would be isolated to the inn and not to the wares brought by the hordes of merchants, but even Tracou knew that was unlikely. In exchange for hosting the Gathering of Merchants, and providing a great deal of customers, the city of Shalen no doubt asked for a chunk of the profits.

By the time Tracou had gotten his lodging squared away, the sun hung low in the sky. There was still time before dinner to take a walk. This trip to Shalen was Tracou's fifth, but he had never explored the city beyond what he needed. Maybe this time it would be different.

Unfortunately, Tracou couldn't resist the pull of seeing what the merchants were up to. It would just be a preview of tomorrow, so it couldn't hurt to take a look.

Many merchants had already set up tents and were hawking their wares. Buying something on the first day or even before the merchant exhibition began was often a bad idea as the prices would go down each day, but there was no harm in looking. If Tracou found something, he could keep an eye on it. Sometimes he saw something that he just had to own. That was a bad situation to be in, but there was no helping it. Spending money was why Tracou was here and he was going to end up spending it one way or another.

Tracou spotted a stall that was bigger than most of the others. Bolts of fabric were both laid out on a table and standing upright in the tent behind it.

The one thing Tracou was a sucker for was fabric. He loved having a full closet and grew bored of his clothes far too quickly. If he could bring back some exotic fabric and get a tailor to make him something nice, then this journey would have been a success.

Trying his best to appear indifferent, Tracou made his way over to the stall. The vendor, a portly man with a mustache, smiled widely at him.

"Hello! Interested in some high quality fabric, are you?"

Did he look interested? Tracou frowned. "I might be," he said airily.

"By the look of your clothes, I'd say you're the kind of man who knows what he's looking for!" he vendor chirped.

Tracou was quite proud of his clothes. Today he was wearing black hose and a tunic made from dark blue fabric he had acquired last year. It had cost him, but it had been worth it. The summer sun had also forced him to wear a wide brimmed hat. Tracou didn't consider it part of his look, instead wearing it out of necessity.

The praise from the vendor shouldn't have affected him, but he couldn't help but preen.

"I would agree with you," he said.

"Excellent. Allow me to show you something..."

The vendor rummaged through the bolts that were standing upright and pulled one out from the back. He set it on top off the bolts that were already on the table.

It was a brilliant red with a black pattern on it. Upon closer inspection, the pattern was made up of birds. Tracou stared at it, but had to glance away. The color was blinding. He placed a hand on his chin, allowing his fingers to cover his chin and his mouth.

It was beautiful. Imagine what could be made from that. Imagine the compliments he would get! No one would be able to look at him and not notice this fabric.

"How much are you looking for?"

"Five hundred aj."

Tracou closed his eyes. This vendor had to be out of his mind with that price. Five hundred aj could buy him twenty horses with maybe a few cows thrown in for good measure. Buying this would blow half of his budget for this event before it had even started.

"The price might seem high, sir, but I assure you that you won't find fabric like this elsewhere. I acquired it in Winlea, to the north. The Winleans produce exceptional fabric and their dyes always make for vibrant colors."

Tracou bit the inside of his cheek. This vendor was right—Winleans were known for their fabrics and dyes. Whether or not this fabric was indeed from Winlea was something he had to just trust the vendor on.

He opened his eyes again.

It was beautiful and, surely, would look good on him.

"If I may say so, sir," the vendor began, leaning forward. "I believe red is your color."

This past year or so, Tracou had been entirely convinced that blue was the color that looked best on him. Could it have been red this entire time? Had he been acting like a buffoon, so confident in his choice of color while others around him snickered about him in secret?

"Why does he insist on wearing blue? Doesn't he realize that it makes him look like a corpse?" they must have hissed to each other. Mortifying. He couldn't let his villagers think he was foolish!

Letting out a long breath, Tracou let his hand fall from his face.

Five hundred aj was just too much to spend.

"I'll give you two hundred."

The vendor shook his head. "You wound me, sir. Two hundred aj, for something as nice as this?"

It was pretty nice. Tracou bit the inside of his cheek again.

"I'll go no lower than four hundred and fifty aj."

Insanity.

"Two hundred and fifty."

And so the haggling began. When Tracou was not eager to get something, he was quite good at haggling. Unfortunately, it was clear to anyone who saw him that Tracou genuinely wanted this fabric. He was stuck playing the vendor's game.

As they continued saying numbers back and forth, Tracou noticed a presence sidle over next to him.

Panic gripped him. Had someone else seen the fabric and decided that they didn't mind exchanging twenty horses for it?

Scowling, Tracou turned to the offending person, only to find that they were much taller than he had expected. His eyes traveled upwards until they met some surprised, brown eyes.