Laurence's heart raced with the promise of the unknown as he moved with brisk efficiency. His fingers threaded through the soft linen of his shirt, each button a step closer to the future that beckoned beyond the palace walls. His room, with all its grandeur, felt smaller today. Its opulence was no match for the lure of adventure and discovery that awaited him.

"Your Highness," a voice called softly from the doorway. It was Edric, an attendant who had watched over Laurence since he was a toddler.

"Today is the day," Laurence said, more to himself than to Edric, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Indeed, Prince Laurence," Edric replied, his eyes crinkling with pride. "The world awaits your influence."

They shared a single nod. As with all who had served him throughout his childhood, Edric’s warmth and familiarity had to remain politely restrained. 

Laurence stepped out into the corridor where the rest of his attendants waited, their faces a mix of smiles and poorly veiled sadness. With each farewell, they pressed tokens into his hands—small charms and trinkets, blessings for his travels.

"Be safe, Your Highness," His old nursemaid Marluna whispered, pressing a small, sealed pouch into his palm. Inside, Laurence knew, were herbs from the castle gardens, a reminder of home and its healing comforts.

"We will faithfully await your return," said Edric, his smile wide and eyes glistening suspiciously as he bowed.

"Thank you, all of you," Laurence said, his gaze sweeping over the group, "For taking care of me throughout the years. I promise to bring back many souvenirs from my travels."

With that, he turned, stepping with resolve down the long hallway on his way to the front doors of the palace.

As he eventually emerged into the daylight, Laurence's heart sped up anxiously.

The sun’s bright summer gleam caught on the gilded carriages and the shiny hides of the creatures attached to pull them. 

The rocheros’ were imposing in appearance and stature, their skin a rocky landscape of gray scales and sharp edges. Even so, their temperaments were serene; eyes large and observant with their horned snouts proudly raised high.

Lined up alongside the carriages was the entire entourage Laurence would be spending the next several months traveling with. A total of ten knights for his protection, and five advisors meant to assist with furthering his education.

Ahead of them all, King Alphedor stood out of place with his long cape brushing the dirt road.

Laurence approached briskly, not wanting to keep waiting the man who’d deigned to actually step outside the palace walls in order to see him off.

"Father," Laurence began, his voice steady despite the fluttering in his chest.

"Laurence." The word was a command, a greeting, and a marker of the moment.

Then, without warning, Alphedor stepped forward with his arms open wide. Laurence froze, surprise rooting him to the spot before instinct took over, causing him to fall into the embrace. It had been ages since such affection had been openly displayed between them, and it struck a chord deep within the prince's soul.

His father's hug was a comforting barrier, walls closing in with both protection and expectation. Laurence stifled the swell of emotions threatening to breach his composure; he would not let tears betray the strength he needed to show. Instead, he returned the hug with equal fervor, arms tightening around the king's formidable frame. 

"Go," Alphedor whispered, his voice so soft it felt foreign. "See and learn what you must. I’m confident you’ll return as the enlightened prince you are meant to be."

Releasing his grip, Laurence stepped back, meeting his father's eyes. A nod from Alphedor sealed the farewell, a gesture imperceptible to those who didn't know to look for it. With a deep breath, Laurence stepped around the king, the finality of the moment propelling him toward his waiting carriage.

Laurence's hand lingered on the carriage door briefly before he swung himself up into the plush interior. Unsurprisingly, Avril immediately followed, stepping out of the line of knights to nimbly hop in and take the seat beside him. Laurence avoided looking in his direction, knowing just the sight of the blonde’s face would vex him.

Barton soon clambered aboard as well, reaching out a hand to help Advisor Reya step in too. Her kind eyes were flickering with both excitement and apprehension as she and Barton took their seats across from the prince and his personal knight. 

As the rest of their entourage boarded their own transport, another knight took her place at the front of the prince’s carriage, seizing the rocheros’ reins with stiff, resolute posture.

"Are we ready, Your Highness?" She asked, glancing inside through the small open window that separated them.

Laurence’s eyes cut back outside, giving one last look to his stoically watching father and the home he was leaving behind, before he confirmed, “Yes.”

The carriages lurched into motion, the rocheros’ powerful legs striding confidently forward. 

Through Dondor's heart they rolled, past market stalls vibrant with life. 

A few children ran around cheerfully, only to stop and look up with awe at the rare sight of the royal carriages passing through.

"Quite the spectacle we are," Avril quipped, casually leaning out of the window.

"I suppose," Laurence reluctantly replied, his hand raised to politely wave at the citizens who eagerly pointed at their procession. 

"Chin up, my prince," Barton interjected, his tone equal parts jest and sincerity, "Many of the escapades found in your books now await us in the flesh."

"Though let us hope they are less perilous than tales often suggest," Reya added cautiously.

Laurence's lips quirked in silent acknowledgement. Faces blurred past, a sea of smiles and cheers, but his attention snagged on a cluster of girls garbed in light cotton dresses. Laurence's calm, princely wave abruptly became more animated with excitement as he made eye contact with them. 

They seemed surprised when it became obvious they had his attention; they giggled shyly and fluttered their hands back at him. 

Though Laurence knew they wouldn’t recognize him, the prince couldn’t help the rush of fondness that came over him when he recognized the group of girls that had pulled him into a dance during the town festival. It was a shame he would never be able to formally befriend them, but he’d always cherish that moment of simple fun.

Across from him, Barton glanced knowingly between his prince and the girls they’d passed. Laurence’s cheeks flushed as he avoided his gaze. 

The carriage rolled on, wheels clattering against cobblestones smoothed by countless footsteps. As the throng of citizens began to thin, Laurence's eyes drifted toward the narrow alleys that veined the city. There, in the cool shadows cast by towering structures of gray and pearl, figures lingered. Their stares were not warm like those of the market-goers but cold, etched with silent resentment.

A flicker of unease stirred within Laurence's chest. His grip on the carriage window tightened imperceptibly; he knew those alley-dwellers bore the weight of grievances unseen and unheard by the likes of him. Yet, he did not hide from their hostility, determined to one day bridge the chasm between privilege and want when he returned with a wiser outlook on the world.

"Troubled souls," Barton murmured, following his line of sight.

"Indeed," Laurence responded, the words barely above a whisper.

"Best keep looking forward, Your Highness," Avril advised, leaning back into the plush seat. “Staring pityingly into the faces of the less privileged will not embolden them."

Laurence pulled a face at Avril’s words, but silently focused on the path ahead. 

The carriage jostled over a ridge as it picked up speed, wheels biting into soft earth as they reached open country. 

Laurence’s dark plum hair lifted in the breeze as he gazed at the sprawling landscape beyond Dondor's limits. His heart thrummed with the thrill of finally reaching territory he’d never seen before.

"Quite the spectacle you put on back there," Avril remarked, his tone laced with amusement. "Waving like a starry-eyed troubadour at every milkmaid and stable boy."

"Those 'milkmaids' are my people, Avril." Laurence’s voice held a sharp edge as he withdrew from the window to glare at his seatmate. "I was being respectful, a concept I’m well aware you’re ignorant of."

"Is that what you were doing?" Avril scoffed, tossing his bangs with a flick of his head. "Looked more like a prince playing at humility to me."

“Thankfully, I couldn’t care less about your perception,” Laurence grumbled.

Barton watched the exchange, his eyebrows knitting together in mild surprise. He had seen Laurence cross words with many, but there was always a politeness, a controlled veneer. With Avril, it was different—raw, almost personal.

"Peace, you two," Barton said, though his voice carried a weight that suggested he spoke more out of duty than expectation. "We’ve a long road ahead. Best save your energy for interests other than banter."

Laurence nodded silently, pulling his gaze away from Avril's challenging stare.