Chapter Text
SIMON
I had never seen so many people before.
They were everywhere, on the streets and hanging out of windows and on horses. They walked and talked and laughed, wearing all sorts of clothes and saying all sorts of things. Everything was so close together, packed in tight. It was honestly a little overwhelming. I had heard the city of Watford was chaotic, but I could never have imagined this.
It was a little awful. It was a little wonderful.
I stood in the middle of the street, in a dusty tunic and pants, probably looking every inch of the country boy I am. I hoped they couldn’t tell. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the city people, so they probably wouldn’t know what to do with me. Would they be able to tell I had no idea what I was doing, like everyone always had?
I still remembered what the Mage had told me when I set off for the city. “Go to the palace and tell them who you are. Show them your sword. The King will know what to do.” I could see the palace in the distance, huge and pretty, but I wasn’t exactly sure how I would get in. Weren’t palaces supposed to have guards, or was that just how it was in the books?
Still, I had to believe him. I wasn’t sure what I would do if the King didn’t. Go home? The Mage might not let me in the door, and I had ridden and walked for days to get here. I wasn’t going to give up just because Watford was a little scary.
I set off down the street, wishing I had my horse. I had had Michah for most of the trip, but two days ago I was ambushed by highwaymen. I had gotten away, but my horse hadn’t. I hoped they were taking good care of him. Someone familiar would’ve been nice, in a city full of unfamiliarity.
I stared at the tall buildings, the scuffed cobblestones, the people on every side of me. Yup, definitely unfamiliar.
Still, I looked at the smiles on people’s faces, the way the sun shone off the roof tiles, the noise in the background. I liked it here, even though it was so different from where I had grown up. Maybe that was why I liked it.
I set off to the palace with a skip in my step and a smile on my face.
One hour later, I was not smiling. The streets of Watford were not straightforward, and I had been lost for the past half hour. Maybe longer. I could still see the palace, shining and huge, in the distance, but I had no idea how to get there. I had tried to buy a map and some food, but someone had stolen the few coins I had in my pocket.
So I was broke and lost in an unknown city. Fun.
I sighed. I knew that this would happen. I didn’t know what the Mage was thinking, leaving me unsupervised. Maybe I wasn’t the hero of the prophecy. Heroes were supposed to be competent, and I don’t know what I’m doing half of the time.
Still, I had to stick it out. The Mage gave me a job to do, something he had trained me for years for. I wasn’t going to turn tail and quit.
I stuck my hands into my pockets and turned another corner, looking around. There were a lot more people on this road, which was wider. Weird. Maybe something was happening. Maybe it was something bad.
I hated that I was hoping for that, but at least it would give me something to do. Something that I could do.
“Hey, what’s going on?” I asked a woman in a white dress.
“Oh, it’s the prince,” she said breathlessly. “He just got back from visiting his aunt Fiona in the west. Oh, he’s so handsome!”
I peered over her head. Sure enough, a carriage was making its way down the road, with a bunch of unnecessary decorations on it. On the side was a drawing of a snake. I caught a flash of black hair and pale skin from inside, but that was it.
I turned back to the woman “Is he headed to the palace?”
She nodded. I thanked her, grinning, and started to follow the carriage. Finally, a plan.
It was hard navigating the crowds of people that wanted to see the prince, mostly swooning young women (and some men). I still didn’t get a good look at him, I saw his hand a few times, but nothing else. I wondered what kind of person a prince would be, growing up with all that wealth.
Probably a git.
The people of Watford didn’t seem to think so.
I followed the carriage for blocks, getting closer and closer to the palace. It got bigger as I got closer, which I thought should be impossible. Why did they make it so big? Not that many people lived there.
Maybe they have really big rooms, I thought. Or do all the servants have rooms too? I hope they do. They work hard, I think.
My wayward thoughts were interrupted with a scream. A loud, high-pitched, terrified scream. That probably wasn’t good.
I turned toward the street, where the crowds had suddenly started to run away. That definitely wasn’t good.
People in all black clothes and swords were swarming the carriage. The knights that had been guarding the carriage were lying on the streets, and the horses had been cut loose. I could see someone struggling with the criminals, but no one was stopping them.
I could stop them.
The thought almost made me grin as I murmured the spell that would bring me my sword, the only one I had been able to master. The Sword of Mages appeared in my hand, golden and gleaming.
I dove into the street, defeating and disarming one of the criminals effortlessly. Adrenaline ran like fire through my veins, making my movements quicker and stronger. I easily defeated three more criminals before getting to the carriage, where five more people stood.
I wondered if it was a bad thing that I felt my best when I was fighting. I decided that now was not the time to think about that.
I slammed the hilt of my sword into one of the criminal’s heads, and he fell like a stone. Three of them attacked me at once, the clang of metal on metal more familiar to me than the back of my own hand. One of them got a lucky shot in, slicing open my left arm. I winced, but kept on fighting until all of them were either knocked out or disarmed and running away.
I was panting, bloody, and sweaty. I felt like myself again.
I turned to the last person, who was halfway inside the carriage. He was grabbing something, pulling it along with him. It must have been heavy, because he was struggling so much.
I used the flat of my blade to sweep him off of his feet, and his head cracked against the side of the carriage. The man crumpled to the ground.
And something was falling out of the carriage.
If I had time to think, I would have realized that it was probably the thing the criminal had been trying to pull out of the carriage, and maybe even figure out that it was the thing the whole group of people had attacked the carriage to steal. But I didn’t have time to think, because I was pretty sure a person was falling out of the carriage.
I dove forward, dropping my sword, the person falling into my outstretched arms. My knee propped up his back, and for a moment I forgot about the fight, about the dust on my clothes and my sword on the ground, because all I could notice was how fit the person in my arms were, and how his eyes were the prettiest shade of gray. Like storm clouds.
For a moment we just sat there, in the middle of the road surrounded by unconscious bodies.
Then the person spoke.
“Please put me down,” he said.
“Oh, right,” I said, putting him down on the cobblestones. The person stood up, brushing the dust off of his clothes.
“Thank you,” the person drawled, not sounding thankful at all. “For saving my life.”
Before I could sputter out an answer, people were surrounding them again. I grabbed my sword, ready to fight (almost wanting it) until I noticed the armour the people were wearing.
These were knights.
“Are you alright, Prince Baz?” one of them asked, approaching the person.
“I’m fine,” he said stiffly.
Because the person I had saved was the prince. The prince of Watford.
“You’re the prince?!” I asked incredulously.
Prince Baz raised one eyebrow. “Yes?”
I didn’t know quite what to say, so I murmured the spell that would make my sword disappear to wherever it came from. I had never quite understood that part, but I figured I didn’t have to. It was when the sword was in my hand that mattered.
As soon as his sword disappeared from my hand, the knights gasped. A couple put their hands to their mouths. Even the prince looked surprised, mouth hanging open.
“What?” I asked.
“You-You’re the hero,” the knight that was talking to the prince said. “The hero of the prophecy. The Hero of Watford.”
Oh. Right. There was that.
“Oh, y-yeah. That’s me,” I said. I wasn’t sure what to do. The knights were looking at me like I was a hero. Which I kind of was. “Uh, can I speak to the King?”