| Medieval Times; Takuma, a prince of a small kingdom, likes to escape and wander the town. One day, he meets a bard who wants to be a herald. | |
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| Topic Started: Mar 21 2018, 02:44 PM (4 Views) | |
| basketkitty | Mar 21 2018, 02:44 PM Post #1 |
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The morning was misty and cool. The sun was just barely peeking over the walls that surrounded the small kingdom, but even so things were already bustling as people woke up and got straight to work on their everyday tasks. Carts with produce and animals were lead in through the castle gates; royal gardeners stepped out to tend to the gardens for the king’s morning walk; servants hurried into place to prepare breakfast and get the royal family ready for another day of reign. Only yet again, they would only be able to wake up two-thirds of said family. It was a wonder if the guards were so blind to not notice the white sheets tied together, or if they were purposefully ignoring it. Most likely the latter as such a sight was quite common at this point. Hearing the news that her son was out again, the queen sighed and sent some of her guards out to keep an eye on him for her. The king was quite furious at such a passive reaction, as he always was. He wanted to discipline the child. His wife, however, was much more romantically inclined and was happy to let him go off as long as he was safe. He was at the age of adventure, and she couldn’t bring herself to keep him cooped up in the dank castle forever while there were things to explore. After all, what was the point of ruling a kingdom if you couldn’t enjoy the pleasures it had to offer? And so the two monarchs sat down to their breakfast--the third seat at their table empty once more. Ducking between passing carts and down allies, the prince forced himself to feel pleased on another successful escape, via ignoring the fact that everyone just let him do it. There wasn’t much thrill anymore, his leavings were expected. That was disappointing. What was also disappointing was that he couldn’t slip out at a later time of day when the town was busier. Even though things were already frantic, it was all just people of their respective trades opening shop. He wanted to explore through crowds and haggle with peddlers, chase chickens about and relax in the local tavern… But he had classes to attend to in the afternoon and evening. He used to have ones in the morning, but his mother decided against that and allowed him free-range of his mornings. Granted she probably didn’t mean a literal free-range as he was doing now, but she didn’t seem to mind it. Pulling the hood he wore over his eyes more, he sighed and pushed off the wall, figuring he could at least make the most of his time while he still had some. Wandering for a bit, he eventually decided to find some breakfast and followed a rather delectable scent to its origin: a bakery. Helping himself inside, he smiled to the young man who’d just jolted up from where he’d been sleeping at a flour-covered table. “Oh, excuse me,” the young man said, putting on a smile as well. “Good morning. I’m…sorry I…don’t have a lot,” he said, motioning to the shelves of bread. There weren’t very many types to choose from, much unlike what the prince was used to in the castle. And the breads that were there were a bit…peculiar looking. Oh, they looked like bread and they were edible enough. They just had a bit of an…odd shape. “Apologies. I’m…still learning.” Ah, that was why. Looking back to the baker, the prince nodded knowingly. He did seem a little too young to be an accomplished baker, so he must have just finished his apprenticeship. “That’s alright,” the prince said, pulling out a pouch of coins. Handing the baker several pieces, he selected a loaf and bid the man a good day before stepping back into the now warm morning. Breaking pieces off the bread as he walked, the prince hummed to himself, fairly content as things were starting to pick up. But still not quite as much as he’d like it to. Stopping for a moment as he found a bench to sit at, the prince ate his fill of bread and stored the rest of the loaf in another pouch around his waist. Once he was full-up, he decided that he was feeling rather daring. And what better way to satiate that feeling than with exploring beyond the kingdom’s walls? Although, saying ‘kingdom’s walls’ wasn’t as accurate as it could be. The kingdom actually spread out past the walls a short distance, for the farmers and herdsmen. After all, animals needed plenty of room to roam free, and farmers often needed many fields to grow their crops. So it was still fairly safe beyond the enclosure, it was just much safer inside. Thus the prince headed for the gates, anxious to get even fresher air. Making his way to the outer walls, the prince was momentarily distracted as a boy hardly older than him stepped up on a large box in the street, calling out for people’s attention. Although he would hardly need to do so, his gaudy outfit was more than enough to get people to look over. And then…he called out for a volunteer. No one coming up, the prince stepped forward, and the young man smiled, pulling him up onto the box with him. “Pick a card, sir,” he said, holding out a deck of tarot cards. “You are a fortune teller?” the prince asked, hesitant. He had mixed feelings about fortune telling, especially when he was royalty disguised as a commoner. If fortune telling told your future, how would people react when he’s told he will be king? Either the teller will be regarded as unreliable, or there would be a ruckus as people declared this apparent peasant the righteous owner of the throne. However, the man retained his smile. “If you wish me to be, sir.” “I’d rather you weren’t.” “Very well, sir. Then I am but a mere prestidigitator. Please, pick a card. Thank you~ Now, show it to the others, and put it back,” he said, closing his eyes. Once he felt the card be replaced, the man opened his eyes and shuffled the deck. And then, when he fanned the cards out, he turned to the prince. “Are these your cards?” “How did you do that?” the prince breathed, staring at the deck. Every single card was the of the Temperance arcana. “Secrets of the trade, my good ma—“ “Liar!” a voice calling out from the small crowd that gathered, the magician closed his deck and turned to face the heckler. “The deck was Temperance all along! He just picked one card from a stack of them!” Hearing this, the other audience members soon came to agreement and started up rowdy cries of indignation. The prince, himself, was somewhat put out by it as well. He felt like a fool for having been tricked so easily, by something so simple, in front of so many people. However, the young man didn’t seem offended by the jeering crowd and simply fanned out his deck once more, showing it to the onlookers. It was a regular tarot deck, every card accounted for. Then he knelt down, offering the cards to a young girl standing in the front row. “Pick a card, miss,” he said. Once she did, her father took the card and looked it over, frowning. Then he held it up, showed to the rest of the people and handed it back. The little girl slipped the card into the waiting deck and the magician shuffled them once more. Then with an unwavering smile, he revealed the cards to the onlookers, and the prince felt less ashamed. All the cards were the High Priestess. “Thank you for your time, sir. Would you care for another trick?” offered the Prestidigitator, turning to the prince. Who could not help but agree. After several different tricks and games in which the magician turned a card into a dove, buried one type of card and dug out a different kind, among other wondrous things, the prince realized the day was passing too quickly for him and he excused himself from the entertainment. Sadly there was no longer any time for him to go explore beyond the gates, all there was time for was to return to the castle. “Wait! Come back!” Stopping, the prince turned around, to see a goat running straight for him with a man chasing after it. He recognized the man to be one of the bystanders in the audience, one of the very few to not get upset when the magician’s tricks were being doubted. It seemed he’d gotten too wrapped up in the entertainment that he forgot to watch the few goats he was leading and lost one. Well…it was always nice to help someone in need. Diving for the creature as it tried to run past, the prince wrapped his arms around it, tackling the goat to the ground. This wasn’t the best idea, but he somehow managed to not be kicked. He did have to let go almost right away, though, but that gave the herdsman just enough time to reach the rope that was tied around the goat’s neck, and stop it in its tracks. Reaching a hand out, the man helped the prince to a stand, who quickly adjusted himself to make sure his cover was still adequate. “Thank you so much! I would have got a good beating if I lost him,” the herder laughed, despite the lack of humour in his statement. “A beating?” “The head herdsman is strict, but it’s okay,” he said, waving off the shocked expression aimed at him. “Really I’d be more upset that I just lost him in general.” Kneeling down, he cooed at the goat, kissing its nose. The goat tried to eat his hair. “Isn’t he just being lead to be…um…eaten?” the prince asked, not really seeing how someone could get an attachment to a creature that was used for food. “He’s going to a breeder,” the man said, standing back up. “He’s got a nice pure body, so he’ll make lots of healthy babies! Oh they’re going to be so cute. I get to help take care of them! There’s already some newborns coming in today we hope, so I should get going. Thank you again for helping me!” he said, handing the prince a small copper coin. And then before the prince could say anything further, the young man was off, dragging his goat behind him. One would probably think that it was a very lucky goat. But the prince wondered if that was really the case. What if the goat was in love with another special lady goat? And he was being forced to impregnate other lady goats, ones handpicked for him. Oddly enough, while that hasn’t happened to him, yet, the prince related all too well with the goat. The poor thing. Keeping the coin that was given to him, the prince hurried along, doing his best to focus on getting home on time, not allowing himself to be distracted further. This was a wasted effort, however, as he passed by the town’s square and stopped. Standing precariously on the edge of the fountain, a man was reading something aloud. It seemed to be a poem of sorts. There were a few people standing around, but not many were paying him any attention. They were all used to hearing failing minstrels spread their songs, so having another was nothing spectacular. The prince thought otherwise. For one thing, it was admirable for this boy to be reading his words without accompanied music. Most minstrels would allow for their musical abilities to cover any other faults. But this young man seemed to be quite confident with the sound of his voice and the lyrics he had written. And it showed. His face melting into a smile, the prince clapped as the poet finished, not minding that he was the only one doing so. This seemed to be a rare occurrence for the poet, as he swelled with pride and attempted a low bow from his dangerous perch. And if it weren’t for the swift reflexes the prince had from his training, the poor man would have been soaked to the bone. As it was, the two simply fell to the ground in a heap. “Oh! I’m sorry!” the man gasped, scrambling off the prince who coughed the dust out of his mouth and sat up. “I-I didn’t mean t—“ “It’s alright,” he assured him, handing over some papers the poet had dropped in the fall. “Your performance was wonderful. You wrote it yourself?” And no sooner had the words left his lips, the prince saw a complete change in the poet. “A-ah? Y-yes…yes I did,” he murmured, no longer meeting eyes with the younger man. It seemed that the moment he was off stage, all his confidence blew away resorting him to this…shy person. Though somehow, it was charming. The prince always liked to see different sides of people, and to see two separate personalities come out of one person in a span of a few seconds was intriguing. “Do you take requests?” the prince continued, when he found the poet wasn’t going to say anything further on his end. “Um… I haven’t, no. But…i-if you want, I…could?” Collecting the last page, the man stood up, stepping back to allow the prince more room to stand as well. The prince was a bit put out that he didn’t offer to help him stand, yet he could see the man was a tad too nervous right now to be thinking on the matter of common courtesy. So for now, he allowed it pass. “What…um, what would you like it to be about?” “About? Mm…” He kind of wanted to say ‘Make it about the prince!’ but that was an odd request. So instead, he settled on: “Could you make it about our meeting here? I’d like to remember this.” “Eh? Wh-what for? What happened was really embarrassing!” “But it’s my first meeting with you. …Ah, sorry, is that too blunt?” the prince asked, as the man stared at him, a very obvious shade of red creeping over his face. “What I mean to say is…” He thought for a moment, but came up short. He said what he meant. Why he wanted a record of this event, he didn’t really understand, either. All he really knew was that the more he thought about hearing what the poet’s views on this meeting, the more he wanted to hear it. “Well… If you really don’t want to, you can write me anything you’d like. I’m not picky,” he offered. The poet bit his nail. “I’ll…I’ll think of something,” he said after a moment of thought on his end. “Good! Ah, you’d need payment, right? Let’s see what I have on me…” Rummaging his pouches, the prince searched for something nice beyond money he could offer the man. “Ah! That bread and that copper coin would be enough!” the poet said, pointing to what the prince had just pulled out. And then the prince realized: the man was wearing a large robe; he couldn’t tell what sort of body structure he had. But when he’d fallen on him earlier, there was a strange absence of weight. Glancing to the sky, he bit his lip and decided that he could pretend to not notice the time. Just for a while longer. “Here, then. Take them, and these,” he said, handing over the bread and coin, dropping in a handful of gold coins in process. The poet’s eyes widened and the prince couldn’t help but notice their brilliant red colour. How curious…you didn’t see red eyes that often. “I…this is so much! I-I couldn’t!” he said, turning to stare up at the prince, who just chuckled. “I could offer you more, but I’m afraid I don’t have that much on me. But, what I can do is feed you. It’s lunchtime now, correct? Come, let’s go, and you can tell me all about yourself,” the prince said, motioning for the man to follow him as he lead the way. Although, the poet ended up not doing much talking on his own as they made their way down the street. The prince constantly had to ask questions and prompt him to continue as he had a tendency to go quiet when talking for more than a couple sentences. It was a bit on the draining side, but the prince decided he could live with it for now. Eventually the man would warm up to him, he was sure of it. Everyone did. Already he was able to get the poet to smile and laugh, and at one point even glare at him by making a rude joke. Sitting down together in the tavern, the prince encouraged the poet to eat to his heart’s content, assuring him that money was not an issue. And so the man did. It was surprisingly rewarded to see him pack it in like that, eating as if he’d been starved for ages. The prince wouldn’t have been surprised if that was the case. After all, the poet was that: a poet and poets didn’t make that much money. It was generally assumed that if you were a poet, you were rich enough to be one, as education was expensive, and so people didn’t pay you for your work. So it was surprising to see this young man be so hungry. “May I ask what prompted you to do what you do?” the prince asked after a bit, once he saw the boy slow his intake. “I like writing words, and reading them,” he simply replied, not looking up from his meal. “I don’t know exactly why…but I like the, um, the heralds. And I heard the herald here is getting older…so I thought, if I could act like one in a way, I could get noticed?” Sitting up more now, he scratched at his cheek, looking somewhat sheepish at this point. “A herald?” Looking the man over, the prince nodded to himself. The poet had a lovely voice and was pleasing to the eye. Much better than the old man they had doing it at the moment. The ladies would surely be all over him… “I think you would make a great harker. Maybe I’ll give a good word to the old king, eh?” Winking, the prince chuckled, earning a small laugh from the poet after a small pause of hesitation. “You’d need to dress in something a little brighter, however. You want to attract people’s attention as much as possible, right?” “Eh? I…I suppose. But doesn’t your voice matter the most?” “Oh, it matters, and you have the voice for sure.” Here, the poet blushed yet again, something which the prince found very easy to make him do, yet still strangely rewarding. “But people will not be drawn towards the best cake in the world, unless it is dressed up.” “I-I suppose…but I don’t ha—“ “Did you forget already? I gave you some,” the prince smiled. “And I can give you more tomorrow. In fact, perhaps tomorrow I will take you to the tailor and we can get you cleaned up nice and proper. Yes, that’s a good idea,” the prince nodded. The poet didn’t seem very grateful, however. He seemed…somewhat upset. “Why…are you being so nice to me like this?” he asked, his hands in his lap as he looked away. The prince held still, studying the young man across from him. What was it that drew him to him? He wasn’t sure. What he did know was that in the short while they’ve known each other, there was already a rather strong bond being embedded into the prince’s heart. He felt like he’d known this boy for years and years, as if they’d met in another lifetime, even. And perhaps they had. He couldn’t exactly cross out such a notion. But he couldn’t say that. He didn’t want to scare him away. “I’m an appreciator for good art,” he finally settled on. “And I like helping people find their dreams. Besides, I get sick of listening to that old man warble on for ages,” he laughed. “Hearing a new voice is a welcome change of pace!” The prince himself didn’t often hear the current herald when he made his announcements, but he did hear him when he relayed news to the king and queen if there were messages but no messengers to present them. “I’m only available in the mornings, though. So if you could meet me at the fountain tomorrow morning around dawn, that would give us enough time to suit you.” “Mm…alright. I’ll be there,” the poet smiled. After finishing their meal, the two stepped out of the tavern. “Feel better?” the prince asked, his gold pouch feeling decidedly lighter. “Yes, thank you very much. I haven’t had a meal like that in so long,” he said, resting his hands on his filled stomach. “As a herald, you’d get even better meals three times a day. And you get a whole bedroom to yourself and even a couple servants.” “Really?” Wonder clear on his face, the poet turned to look up at the prince again. Clearly, he had only wanted to take on such a profession because he liked the actual work. None of the other bonuses occurred to him. But then, the wonder passed and moved onto something more akin to worry. “As a herald…can you leave the castle whenever you please?” “I…don’t know, I’m afraid.” The current harker hated leaving the castle unless with an entourage of guards, so he never left very often. “I don’t see why not… Do you have family here?” “No, I live on my own. I was just…wondering,” he murmured, now not meeting eyes with the prince again. Secretly, the prince hoped the poet was just worried about not seeing him again. But he doubted the man felt the same things he did. “Um, can I say something?” the poet asked as they started walking down the streets again. When given the okay, he furrowed his brow and puffed a cheek in thought. “Your eyes are a little strange. Like I’ve seen them somewhere before. I’m sorry if that sounds weird?” His pulse quickening, the prince shook his head. He knew it was most likely because he was the prince, but the rest of him begged it to be the same as he felt towards the red-eyed poet. On the tip of his tongue were the words ‘I feel the same’ either way, but before he could say it, his sleeve was caught and he was dragged into an alley, unnoticed by the still walking poet. “Your Highness, it’s late in the day, you need to return!” the man hissed at the prince, who groaned. “Alright, alright. I’ll be there in a moment, please let me say goodbye first!” “There isn’t any time. Your father is furious. We have to return now,” the spy insisted, and despite the prince’s quiet protests he was dragged off towards the castle, leaving his new friend wondering where he’d gone all of a sudden. He hoped he would show up tomorrow like he promised…though how would he explain vanishing like that? Well, he did have all day to decide. That is, if his father didn’t call for his neck on a platter when he returned home. “Ah…I didn’t even get his name…” |
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6:41 PM Jul 11