#4 (12)

The Town

“Smile, Gale. Their eyes are on us.”

Gale blinked, not realizing he had slacked back into the shadows, adjusted his posture and drawn his features close to make himself appear smaller and less noticeable.

By contrast, Puffrel had her arms open wide as she stood on the carriage above the town. They seemed excited that the World Princess would grace their town. There was a small crowd gathering, with only the busy, the cautious, and the suspicious types refusing the draw near.

The caravan guards were pushing against the crowd. Not intensely—Mostly to make it clear that the princess had proper space.

Gale stepped forward gingerly, and tried to smile. Emphasis on tried. His cheeks pulled upward and he bared his teeth, but it seemed more like he had something stuck in his tooth than a smile.

Apparently it was good enough for Puffrel, as she snickered and skipped off of the carriage, Gale quickly skittering after.

“Gale, ask the peasants for directions to the nearest gladiator arena.” Puffrel said off-handedly, lazily gesturing with her hand as she looked around the town.

Gale shuffled to what appeared to be one of the less eager individuals and asked as she requested.

“Uhh… Gladiator Arena? Sir, this is a farming town.”

Figures. Gale thought. “Well, I’ll just let her know ther—"

“BUT!” The man raised his voice, nearly exclaiming. “But the Lioness is making a world tour and their carriage will be passing through here! I hope that will be enough for us—I mean, I hope that will please the princess.”

Gale nodded, slowly concerned. “Rrright. When are they set to come?”

The man wiped his brow. “It’s hard to say, but daughter wrote that she had saw there play just last evening, so they should arrive soon.”

“Oh.” Gale bit back the urge to ask why his daughter lived away. A semblance of politeness stayed at the back of his mind as half a reason, but it was a minor excuse. Truth was, he wanted to learn anything he could about the world.

I’m not in the estate. He realized. I can ask—No orders said I couldn’t.

He opened his mouth to speak—

“Bodyguard! We’re supposed to be finding a suitable restaurant for me!” Puffrel shouted from a distance.

Gale quickly moved frantically, giving the man some weird amalgamation of a wave and a salute as he caught up to Puffrel.

Laughter echoed from the first floor as the smell of grilled meat filled Gales nose from Puffrel’s platter, a bit of background music reduced to a whisper. The guards grabbed their own seats and made their own orders, trying and failing to appear still focused on Puffrel’s protection.

“Why are we sitting away from everyone else?” Puffrel made an annoyed sound as her mouth was full, raised her index finger, gulped, and then looked at him.

“Because we’re in the VIP section.” She said lazily, tilting her empty glass around in a circle with her finger. She realized that he didn’t know what VIP meant and steadied her glass. “The VIP section is reserved for special guests. As the World Princess, I’m obviously overqualified for the position.”

Gale nodded, feeling a lot hungrier now that he could see and smell the food, and scratched the back of his neck. He kept looking back downstairs when he was supposed to be watching the area, enamored by the excitement.

“What is it?” Puffrel said through a bite, raising an eyebrow at his sudden silence.

“It’s just…” Gale stared down to the first floor, lit by warm torches instead of individual candles, filled with music instead of whispers, as people gathered instead of soldiers. “They just seem to be having a lot more fun.”

“Ha!” Puffrel exclaimed, snickering. “Down there it’s crowded, loud, and too hot. You would not have a section to call your own, much less be able to hear your own voice.” She shook her head, amazed at the notion.

“Yeah, but… they’re together. Together, talking to real friends. Here, it’s… just you and me.” He chose to neglect the guards as they all seemed tired and exhausted, giving indifferent looks to nothing in particular.

“A princess and a royal bodyguard. We don’t belong with them.”

“Y—” Gale stopped himself. ‘You don’t.’ Is what he meant to say, but he remembered looking at him. A few of them appeared to have lizard-like features, some you couldn’t tell whether they wore pelts or simply had fur, with a few humans here and there. Even if it’s not what Puffrel meant, there was no one there who looked even remotely like Gale.

Still, Gale felt that down there would be better than up here. He followed his line of thinking until…

“It feels like we’re on top of a mountain.” He muttered, rubbing his dry throat and staring at the drinks on the table.

“NOW you get it.” Puffrel said, a self-satisfied smirk spreading on her face. “We loom—”

“Not like that.” Gale said, exasperated.

“How then?” Puffrel said, looking bored.

“The mountains I saw while tending the gardens stood so far from the estate. The tallest and farthest had snow on their caps, with barely anywhere to stand. I saw the prettiest valley in between two mountains.” Gale said, finding his voice and his imagination. “We may be higher up, but we don’t have much to do. We’re surrounded by freezing snow, with barely a square to our own—”

“We have more space here than the peasants.” Puffrel rolled her eyes.

“—separating us from a long fall.” Gale finished.

Puffrel didn’t look swayed, or even impressed. She carried the same bored expression, with one brow slightly raised then the other. “You’re a strange man, Gale.”

“Hmm.” Gale said, cupping an empty and used glass.

“Everything to your liking here in Olen?” Gale’s glass filled with water up to the very rim, the pitcher moving to pour halfway in an empty glass on Puffrel’s side.

Puffrel looked up to a man with dark brown hair, carrying a young but wrinkled face with eyes that seemed even older. He had a full beard neatly groomed, carrying what seemed to be a brown trench coat over simple cotton clothes. On his chest pocket there was a collection of business cards. He gazed down at Puffrel with a warm smile.

Gale didn’t realize exactly how thirsty he was until he was already drinking half of the water in the glass. Puffrel looked at him, her surprise pausing her need to have Gale speak to peasants, then turned to the man. “The food seems adequate, but what of entertainment?”

The man’s eye twitched and his smile grew wider. “I’m sure we can arrange festivities for such a momentous occasion.”

“No, too many peasants in crowds.” Puffrel said. Gale had drunk everything in the glass and now was licking whatever droplets were left, to the distain of the guards. “Any local entertainment?”

The king raised an eyebrow. “We have a—”

“The ‘Lioness.’” Gale said, only registering what he said a few seconds after.

“What?” Puffrel asked excitedly, failing to keep her air of authority on.

“Um… A local said that they’ll stop here on the way to another city. It’s not a performance, but—”

“Yesss.” Puffrel said, nearly frothing at the mouth. Gale and the man blinked at her for a split second, and she quickly adjusted her posture. “Gale, inform the man that’ll do nicely.”

“She says that’ll do—”

“I got it.” The man said with a smirk. He took a second to refill Gales Glass once again, then pawned off a pitcher to their normal waiter. “I am Mayor Arnold Lyg, and I’m happy to welcome you both to Olen. Please enjoy your stay.”

He gave a slight bow of courtesy, pawned the waiter a few small, rectangular pieces of paper with intricate designs that Gale had never seen before, and then made his way downstairs.

…

         Arnold wrote the signature of his final paper, his eyes and wrist sore from the hour he had spent working on the less glamorous aspects of the job. He dropped the quill limply from his hand and brought up his hand onto his head and pulled it down on his flesh, leaning back in the chair.

         The door creaked open as his assistant opened the door. “Sir, the princess—”

         Arnold groaned. “For the last time Isaac, I don’t care of whatever the royal family has been doing. I didn’t move halfway across the continent to hear the capital’s constant ‘reporting on the royalty’ culture.

         “Sir, this is very relevant to you.” His assistant remarked stiffly.

         “Oh, I’m sure it’s relevant to every muck with a single penny worth a damn.” He sneered, bringing his hand to his head. “I have a headache. Is lady Lisa’s herb shop still open—”

         “Mayor, it’s ‘Lisa’s Herbal Remedies,’ and—”

         “—because the traders constant droning on about the tariffs has driven me—”

         “MAYOR, THE PRINCESS IS IN OUR TOWN.” The assistant exclaimed.

         Silence.

         Arnold felt his nails dig into his palm as he tightened his hand into a fist, his formally loose posture shifting into a rooted position. “What?”

         “I believe you heard me, sir.”

         Arnold blinked. “In our town? Why didn’t you—”

         “Because she arrived today, sir. Without warning.” His assistant finished. “Folks are riled up about it, excited to be graced but terrified to fail her expectations.”

         Arnold grinded his teeth, a fire being stoked again after dimming for years. “Give me the full party rundown.”

         “In addition to the princess, there are eight guards, two servants, a carriage driver, and one of those scorchers from the last war. It seems to be serving as her bodyguard.” Isaac said, his tone growing angry now having mentioned the Metori.

         The king rested his cheek on his hand in thought. “We’ve had discussions on the royals before, Isaac.”

         “We have, sir.” Isaac stated plainly.

         “Then you know where I stand. What do you suggest?”

         Isaac thought for a moment. “I don’t know what to do yet. I need more information. Why are they here, of all places? What do they want?”

         The king grabbed his trench coat. “Then that’s what I’ll find out.” He said. “Where are they?”

         “Young Sun’s Pub, sir.”

         The king nodded in acknowledgement, and made his way to the door.

         “Wait.” Isaac said, turning around and reaching his hand out, an anxious look on his face.

         The mayor stopped.

         “This is thin ice we’re on. Olen should NEVER burn again. So, what’s your plan?”

         The mayor paused. “To do what’s right.”

         He left the room, Isaac staring at him until the door crack finally shut.