Each year the Kingdom of Khearia throws a festival in remembrance of one of their most beloved kings who had tragically perished along with his wife and second son. His first son, Prince Fabian, was the only one to survive. Witnesses claimed his cro...
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As of that day, he was to be an orphaned street boy.
The boy had no idea where he should go, or who he should trust. One thing he did know is that he now had a new role to play; a role entirely different in lifestyle as the one he had lived until then. He was now homeless and poor. He was alone.
Greed would be his downfall if he gave in, his expensive garments were the first things that had to go. He couldn't sell them, he couldn't risk it; if the wrong person were to ever find them it would lead to his death. Even the gold buttons, they were inscribed with an insignia that few people on this planet were allowed to have.
All of it; his whole life, his role, his name — he would have to abandon it.
He sat on the dirt, the stripes of long grass swaying back and forth around him, trying to calm him. Even the sun hesitated on the horizon, peeping over distant mountains, concerned.
That was the thing about despair, he was already calm. His mind was clear, not enslaved to frantic horror. Unfortunately, he didn't think he would ever be able to forget it. He didn't even have the freedom to scream nor to feel indignant over the injustice.
Yes, it wasn't fair. But, if he dwelled on that then everything would have been in vain.
His horse grunted over him. He looked up, feeling sorry for the creature for some reason. He couldn't explain why, but in that moment he grieved for this animal.
"You don't have to stay with us anymore," he said, "go."
The horse grunted again, looking uninterested. Of course it couldn't understand him.
He stood and let his hand glide over the horse's neck, feeling the living breathing creature under his finger tips.
"Thank you."
He pulled the reins off the loyal horse's face, hoping it would understand. He'd been in such a rush she wasn't even saddled. She looked straight back at him.
With a slap next to her tail, she finally fled, roaming free. She was so beautiful as she ran.
He should've eaten the animal, but he couldn't.
There was something fearfully peaceful in the rustling grass folding under a gentle breeze, the sky treating the ground so delicately despite everything that happened. It made him feel sick.
The wind stung the oozing scabbing up his arm. He'd have to find medicine soon.
It's just you and me now, he told his silent partner.
She had been uncharacteristically dormant throughout everything and he wondered what she thought about it. Even now, he received no response from her.
Hubris and greed was what caused the most mighty of downfalls, and although he could sacrifice everything else he had, there was one thing he couldn't part with. Despite knowing the risk, the danger, he wouldn't be able to survive without her.
He unsheathed her gently, her magnificent golden blade appearing, a mighty power stored within.
He would wrap her up in rags, hide her true ferocity, even if it became burdensome. To others, she would be nothing but a cheap old sword in the hands of a scared orphan boy.
For now, he would find the nearest town, and will remain mute until he can speak colloquially with the common people. To them, he will be uneducated and simple.
Stripping off his garments, he ripped the buttons off the expensive fabric. Those he would keep. Gold was soft enough, he would hammer them with a rock until the markings were unrecognisable.
His arm throbbed and screamed with the pain of movement, but he didn't have the luxury to treat himself gently just yet.
By the time the search parties were released, he will need to have been completely integrated into peasantry.
They probably would have already noticed his absent body.
