It was a simple rutine that I'd repeat with my mother while visiting the Capital on various occassions.
On the mornings when most of the town's folk went to pray to Erathis the city's guardian deity, including my father and brother (though my familyâs region consisted mostly of Melora's followers), my mother would dress herself and me in simple-looking clothes and we both headed outside to the slums' area. It was fun for me because the one order I was given as soon as we slipped out of the Guest Wing and to the garden behind castle's black kitchen, stated: "Play in the puddles and mud as much as you can." I'd always run around and jump into all the filthy puddles I could find, staining the white linnen fabric of my clothes. I had to be careful, however, so that my hood wouldn't come off, revealing my white hair and pointy elvish ears. My mother also hid her hair under a simple hooded cloak, making sure, not even her unsual eyes could be seen from under it. Eladrins were so scarse in this part of the continent that someone might recognize us at first glance.
These trips were also a secret from both father and Hadarai. Nowadays, I can finally understand why.
At this time, soon after the corronation of king Robert, third son of the deceased king Vandin the Great, the country fell into troubles. It was thanks to the Third Prince's brothers and also the growing power of nobility... such as my family's and others. (Of course, my father wasn't a troublemaker, he was a strong loyalist, trying to guide the young king, even though he himself hadn't been sitting by the Royal Council's table for very long.)
The instability and starting conflicts that recently ignited the flame of civil war came mostly from the very unfortunate situation forecomming the corronation of the Third Prince.
The death of king Vandin was a sudden one while he just fell down of his horse during a hunt and just like that, he was dead. No signs of wounds or poison.
You see, in Narradia, the king cannot rule without the support of Royal Council, so even with the inherited right to rule, one still needs to be voted in.
The first-in-line, Bertoldt, was a strong candidate to be the next king of Narradia and its collonies, as he was both strong and wise and most of the Royal Council favoured him.
However, an unknown assassin ended Bertoldt's life just before the ceremony and all the leads presented by the third prince and some of the nobles somehow revealed the second brother Trand to be the mastermind behind it.
This - of course - was a strong argument against prince Trand and even though some nobles were on his side, he lost the vote 4:8. Which left the youngest 16-year-old prince Robert as the only option and somehow he'd been voted in even without a guardian.
So with a dead king, a dead prince and another prince with life-sentence in prison, nobles in disarray... these were the beginnings of many political struggles in which my family got entangled as well, in the end.
My mother was never one for politics but she understood that with country's inner instability comes less money, more jobless people, more beggars and crowds, hunger and diseases in overgrown slums of the Capitol. So whenever there was no one to notice us, me and my mother would venture to the poor and shady alleys, offering to treat injuries , help cure the sick or simply leave some money on the doorsteps of the families with lots of children. I loved my kind mother and I loved having a secret. Besides oftentimes, I was lucky to find other childrem my age to play with.
Sometimes we would meet this man. An elven mercenary. I've never found out where does my mother know him from but from the bits of conversations I'd overheard, they must have known each other from the times when my mother and father were still travelling adventurers. Yes, there were times when I was older, when I wondered whether these two weren't secretly lovers. Besides, a lot of people had uttered over the years under their breath (but not so I couldn't hear) that I just CAN'T be my father's son, since we've got nothing in common both skill-wise and appearence-wise. I couldn't agree more, there was nothing human in me aside from my ageing and from my Eladrin mother I had apparently inherited only the looks. Plus my petitness and small stature somehow went off the rails in both races.
No, I don't think my mother would betray father. No. She decided to stay here and not go back to Fey Wild because of him... though in the end she still left... I don't know. But watching my father's solemn face I've always hoped she'd loved him as much as he did love her. So... maybe it's just my wishful thinking. She left us and what, where and with whom she is now? I have no idea...
Actually three or four years after Hadarai's death, I'd venture to the slums by myself to search for this elven mercenary. Wrapping a scarf around my ears and hair, throwing on me the âpoorestâ-looking clothes I could find, I slipped out of the Royal castle through the same route, me and my mother used before.
I wandered downtown, looking around the streets. It wasnât as Iâve remembered it. The downtown or the slums... there was no difference, beggars everywhere, diseased people coughing in front of the clinics, some lying in the alleys... and Iâm pretty sure, I saw a dead body near an irrigation ditch...
Trying to keep my head down, as to not expose my feminine elven features, purple eyes and lips pursed in a near-vomitting cringe I rushed to where I remembered my mother used to meet the elven mercenary. Near a pub called âThe Last Gambitâ, quite a poetic and somewhat nihilistic name, given by an inn keeper infamously known for almost killing a cheating gambler.
Iâd finally reached the pub, holding onto a magical amulet in my pocket that Iâd been using as a Wizzard novice to help me conjure magic. Not that the two or three spells Iâve been able to use - including setting a piece of paper on fire - would help me if I were to be attacked with or without a weapon by basically anyone stronger than me... so except the ones lying around infested with red maggots... everyone.
Taking a deep breath, I entered. It didnât matter whether it was midday outside. The windows had probably never been washed, so the inside of the tavern had to be lit by candles. With one glance, I quickly understood, this was a den of bounty hunters and those who called themseves that disguising the fact they work as assassins and robbers... people with no morals, taking money for whatever job they are offered, be it stealing, arson, rape, kidnapping or murder.
I wanted to turn around and leave but Iâd heard the door open and close behind me, knowing, it would be too obvious and eye-catching, trying to fit in the narrow stairs with another person behind me entering, so I hurriedly head for the bar, deciding to just ask about the mercenary and maybe hints of my mother and then run for it.
A scatchy-looking and probably disease-infested female prostitute winked at me as I passed her by. I forced a smile and tried to not react facially to the terrible odour that surrounded her.
Approaching the bar, trying to look as natural as possible, I rested my elbows on the counter. Unfortunately, the counter was too tall and my elbows ended up at the same height as my sholders, so to make a somewhat believable pose, I layed my forearms on the counter and rested my chin on my hands.
The owner looked down at me, while cleaning the wooden tankards with a rag that might have as well been used on the floor before.
âYou look too clean to be looking for customers here, boy, the times are desperate, huh?â he spitted into the tankard and continued on rubbing the cloth over it.
âWhat...?â at first I didnât understand what meant.
âDidnât know kids like you had to dive into this bussiness, condolences. Honestly speaking, I think, YOU might be able to get yourself a customer in the Upper City, you know. That is if youâre on your own... Oh! Or are you a new one from the brothel at the end of the street? Damn! Hatchet - that fucker! I didnât know he was dealing in kids!â
Oh! So this is what he meant! He thought I was a male prostitute... Iâd never seen one in my life before, so I couldnât really say whether I looked like one or not. However, the concern of a six-feet tall giant, bear-style bearded and hairy inn keeper was admirable and somewhat touching, easing the stress, Iâd felt ever since entering this pub. I decided, not to agree nor disagree with his theory and started discribing the mercenary and my mother, asking whether heâd seen them before, working magic with the upward cute stare Iâd trained before on the kitchen maids whenever I craved more candy. That and the pity the owner had felt for me ever since he saw me enter, were the only bargaining tools I had.
Sadly, no valid information was provided, only a filthy mug of some goat milk that I had accepted out of courtesy. I turned from the counter, holding the mug and suddenly someone had hooked arms with me, pulling me towards the entrance and out. I barely managed to put the mug on one of the tables we passed by, probably spilling most of the milk.
The tall stranger in leather cloak, with a hat hiding most of his face, surrounded by the sickeningly herbal smell of some exotic tobacco kept pulling me behind him with ease even as I started struggling. âRelease me! Who are you? What are you doing?! Let... me.. go!â
The man stopped and turned to me, aside from oily long black curly hair and an unkempt stubble, I couldnât really make out any distinctive features in the shadow of his leather hatâs wide brim. âIâm saving your tiny ass, Your Highness.â
âW-what...?â I think my mouth had been gaping for a few seconds then. âN-no! Iâm no aristocrat! I work... I work at the end of the street... There!â I pointed towards a house with red lantern above the door.
I think the man rolled his eyes before sighing. âOkay... I will take you there, then.â And he started walking, dragging me with him.
âN-no! Wait!â Somehow an idea struck me, what if they actually accept me as a prostitute there...?
âI was just...â I looked at the muddy road under my feet.
âLooking for your mother. As always.â He started walking with me back towards the Upper City. âKids like you canât do anything else anyway. Just accept it for your own good. She left. Sheâs not comming back.â
I wasnât surprised he started talking like he knew me. If heâd recognized me - whatever gave me away - heâd must have heard of our familyâs tragedy. Everybody in the palace talked about it... over and over... how Iâm a poor child... that my mother is terrible for leaving a child behind... how my father is pitiful...
âI just want to ask her...â I mumbled.
âYou wonât get an answer you want to hear anyway,â he pulled on my arm, so a passing carriage wouldnât splash mud on me. âYou have to think, however. Youâre just acting like a snobbish brat now. What were you thinking? Half of the pub got that youâre high-class. Leather boots and such clean clothes, seriously? Besides, even like this you could pass as a royal princess with that baby face of yours. There were three guys getting ready to rob you as soon as youâd get out of there.â
âCounting the prostitute.â
âWhat...?! Three GUYS?!â That was a bit too much for me, so I tried to change the subject. âSo... seems like you do know your way around...â
âNo, I donât know that mercenary of yours nor would I tell you if Iâd known. Do you think information comes cheap?â
âSo what do you get from saving me? Did my father hire you to watch me?â I highly doubted that.
âNo, he didnât. But he did hire a guy that let you slip into the den of wolves, so I wouldnât trust your fatherâs judgement much. Iâm saving you because itâs more convinient for me...â We passed by the Golden Frog Inn and entered the Upper City.
âI see, so there was someone after me... and either am I a genius sneaking legend or he had a better offer to âlet me get in dangerâ?â
âIn which you successfully cooperated, yes.â
âSo by exposing this information to my father and saving me, you hope to get a thick reward.â
âThatâs about it. Arenât you a bit too chatty for your own good?â
âI believe, itâs one of my merits.â
He sighed. âOh, you rich kids...â
