Tales Re-Told

Ten years had passed since the day Jean Luc had gone missing while riding with his friends in the forest. So far as everyone in Rostovia was concerned, he was dead. In reality, he was alive and well, living on a farm several hundred miles away. Far from dying as he fell from his horse and plunged over a hundred feet to the river below, he had merely been knocked senseless and floated away.

Unfortunately, Jean Luc had drifted into the path of some rather unsavoury folk, who fished his unconscious body from the river and took him to a nearby town. Had Jean Luc woken at that point, all he would have needed to do was mention his name aloud, and he would have been cleaned up, given a hearty meal, and returned home. But he hadn’t woken up.

When he did, he found himself in a foreign land, shackled by his feet to a young woman several years his senior. She had smiled, introduced herself, and then calmly explained that Jean Luc was now a slave—though, as she was speaking a language he didn’t know, he understood none of it. The first thing Jean Luc did, once his head cleared enough to think properly, was call for a guard and attempt to explain who he was. The guard merely laughed, slapped him across the face, and walked away, sending Jean Luc sprawling.

Today, Jean Luc intended to finally get his revenge. No longer was he a thin, gangly twelve-year-old boy; he was a man grown and now stood several inches taller than the aging guard. He had been ready to escape for years, but it wasn’t until six months ago that he had become trusted and essential enough to no longer wear shackles during his workday.

Since then, it had been a matter of waiting for his moment. His escape plan didn’t specifically require incapacitating this particular guard—any of them carried the key he needed—but the sting of that slap had lingered in Jean Luc’s mind for a decade.

The moment came as he was walking behind the barn, heading for the main house. The large bell atop the house began to ring loudly, and a voice shouted, “Fire! Fire!”

Jean Luc quickly turned around and ran toward the fields. He vaulted a fence and sprinted as fast as he could for the slave quarters. At that moment, the less trusted slaves were being herded inside, and he needed to slip in before them.

He slowed to a jog as he approached the corrugated metal barracks and quietly slipped inside through the open window. His target stood at the opposite end of the building, whistling to himself as he leaned casually against the open barn door.

Jean Luc moved past several rows of bunks before crouching to grab the knotted strips of bedsheet he had fashioned into a makeshift gag. He silently sneaked up behind the guard and pounced, forcing the gag into the man’s mouth from behind and dragging him to the floor.

He forced the man onto his stomach, driving a knee between his shoulder blades, then tied the gag before aiming an elbow at the base of the guard’s skull, knocking him unconscious. Jean Luc extracted the keys from the man’s trouser pocket and dragged his body to the opposite end of the building. He quickly stripped the man of his uniform and hefted him into the soiled linen bin.

Jean Luc had just managed to pull on his disguise and slip back out of the window before the first slaves, and their guards, arrived. He walked with purpose toward the stables, trying to look like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

To his relief, the stables were empty when he unlocked the front door. He hurried inside and grabbed some riding tackle, hastily throwing it onto the sleekest horse he could find. He quickly strapped the saddle onto the beast and led the mare out of her pen. Making sure to lock the stable door, he snapped the key off in the lock, delaying pursuit, then stepped into a stirrup and mounted the horse. With a kick of his heels, the beast broke straight into a gallop. He tugged the reins and headed for the boundary fence at full speed.

If he had tried this on foot, he would have been spotted before he made it halfway, and crossbows would be firing at him for the other half. It was at least a quarter of a mile to the fence, but the horse made it in a fraction of the time. The first shout of “Halt!” came just as the horse’s front hooves raised into the air to jump the fence. By the time anyone was able to fire their crossbows, Jean Luc was already under the cover of the nearby treeline.

He kept the mare at a gallop until the terrain forced them to slow. He trusted the horse to find the quickest path through the forest, only tugging the reins to keep his mount on course. None of the other slaves had ever heard of Rostovia, but one of them had once been sold at a market in a northern town called Eldritch Wells—a name Jean Luc recognized, though he had no idea how far it was from home or in which direction.

His plan from this point was simple: get to the town, find out which way Rostovia was, and then go home.

Unfortunately, when he arrived in Eldritch Wells, nobody there had ever heard of Rostovia either. But several people had been to another place Jean Luc had heard of—Steeples Gate.

This pattern continued for weeks, Jean Luc riding from town to town, city to village, hoping he was heading toward his destination. Finally, after three months and nearly three dozen towns and cities, he was walking through a market in a city called Tertquid when he heard someone speaking his native tongue.

He rushed over to the man and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“You’re from Rostovia?” he asked excitedly.

“Yes,” replied the man.

“Then you can tell me how to get there!” he shouted as he jumped in the air.

“I can do better than that. I’m heading back there tomorrow. You could join me if you wanted. Always nice to have some company on the road, and a strong young lad like yourself would be a useful addition to our caravan,” explained the man.

“That’s very kind of you. I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Marcus, and yours?” asked Marcus.

“Luc,” said Jean Luc.

“Nice to meet you, Luc. You’re not Rostovan, judging by your accent.”

“I’ve not spoken Rostovan for nearly a decade. I’m surprised it’s coming back to me so easily, but I’m Rostovan born and bred,” explained Jean Luc.

“Well, I’m sure that’s a fascinating story. I hope to hear it on the journey home. I have some more errands to run. Meet me at the north entrance at noon tomorrow. Bye for now,” said Marcus, shaking Jean Luc’s hand.

“Thank you, again. It’s taken me weeks to find someone who’s even heard of Rostovia, and now I’ve found someone from home. You have no idea how grateful I am.”

The journey back to Rostovia took nearly two weeks. Jean Luc found Marcus’ company to be extremely pleasant. He was intelligent and well-travelled. He answered Jean Luc’s questions about events in Rostovia since he had left. A war had been fought and won, floods and fires had ravaged the land, and all the usual disasters and celebrations had happened. It sounded like not much had changed in his absence.

When they reached the border of Rostovia, that illusion shattered instantly.

The last time Jean Luc had passed this way, there had been a rustic village, and the border crossing had consisted of a small bridge owned by the local Earl, which cost a silver piece per person to cross. An old man with fewer teeth than Jean Luc’s baby sister had taken the silver coin from Jean Luc with a grin and a wink before waving him through.

Now, a bridge wide enough for several dozen horses to walk side by side spanned the river, flanked by towers and a portcullis on both sides, currently open. Twenty soldiers in gleaming armour stood guard on either side, with more stationed at regular intervals along the bridge. Beyond the river, a sprawling market square bustled with activity.

Marcus pulled the caravan to a stop, jumped down, and led Jean Luc over to a stall. The soldier sitting behind the counter wasn’t wearing armour. Instead, he wore thick leather padding.

“Good morning, Elland,” said Marcus.

“Welcome back. Anything to declare?”

“Just the usual.”

“Right you are. That’ll be thirteen gold and seven silver,” said Elland.

“I see the taxes have gone up.”

“I assumed you were paying for your assistant there, too.”

“Oh, he’s not my assistant. He’s just a stray I picked up on the way home. Luc, this is Corporal Elland.”

“Nice to meet you, Corporal,” said Jean Luc.

“I don’t recognise your accent. Where you from, Luc?”

“I’m from Old Town.”

“Well, you certainly don’t sound like it. You sound foreign to me. Where did you meet this young’un, Marcus?”

“In Tertquid. I’ve spent the last fortnight travelling with him. I can assure you, he’s Rostovan. He’s just been away for a very long time.”

“Well, I trust you, Marcus, but the Major would have me strung up from the bridge if I just took your word for it.”

“Fair enough.”

“Let’s get you sorted, and then we’ll deal with the stray. Ten gold and three silver, please.”

Marcus handed over the coins.

“I have a few errands to run in town. Meet me at the Bull’s Head when you’re done,” said Marcus to Jean Luc.

“Right then, Luc. I’m going to need a bit more information from you. Let’s get a good look at you, for a start,” said Elland.

He stood up and walked around the stall until he faced Jean Luc. He looked him up and down, nodding approvingly, then frowned when he looked Jean Luc in the eyes.

“You look mightily familiar,” said Elland.

Jean Luc smiled. He had gone back and forth in his head as to what he should do in such a situation during the journey home, but now that he was here, it seemed obvious that trying to hide his identity was folly.

“You’ve probably met my father. I look a lot like him,” he said with a grin, turning his head slightly to the right.

“What’s your father’s name?” asked Elland.

“Jean-Paul,” replied Jean Luc simply.

“Like the King.”

“Yes, very much like the King,” said Jean Luc with a small laugh.

“Is he a soldier?” asked Elland.

“Of a sort. He’s been involved in a few wars.”

“Ah, military advisor, eh?”

“In his younger days, yes. I doubt he does much advising these days.”

“And he’s from Old Town?”

“Not originally. He was born in Francas. He moved here when he married my mother.”

“I guess you picked up your accent from him.”

“No, I picked that up on the farm I worked as a slave on for the last ten years.”

“Slave? Blimey, sorry to hear that.”

Jean Luc was starting to think this Corporal had gone just about as far up the ranks as he was ever likely to.

“Look, how much would it cost me to just skip the questions so I can cross the bridge and go home?”

“If you’ve spent the last ten years as a slave, I doubt you have that much coin, lad. I’m not a cheap date. And besides, my boss is heading this way.”

“Elland! Get your skinny behind on the other side of that counter!”

Elland did as ordered.

“You there. Marcus seemed very keen that I personally come and deal with you. He owes me a favour and said that helping you would more than repay it. So, who exactly are you?”

Jean Luc smiled and rolled his eyes. He wondered how long Marcus had been playing dumb about his identity. He turned slightly and looked out of the corner of his eye. He recognised the man at once.

“Well, you’ve certainly gone up in the world since we last met,” said Jean Luc. “Major Bonnet has a nice ring to it.”

“How do you know my name?” asked Bonnet.

“Face me,” he ordered.

Jean Luc didn’t do as ordered.

“I said face me.”

“I don’t take orders from you,” said Jean Luc.

“If you don’t turn and face me, you’ll be in the stocks before sundown.”

“Ask nicely,” said Jean Luc.

“Please, face me.”

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” said Jean Luc as he turned.

There was a moment of silence as Bonnet looked Jean Luc up and down, taking in the athletic, tanned young man that stood before him. Then their eyes met, and recognition flashed across the soldier’s face. He raised an eyebrow.

“You look mighty familiar,” said Bonnet.

“That’s what I said,” muttered Elland.

“What’s your name?”

“Luc.”

“Where are you from?”

“Old Town.”

“What is your father’s name?”

“Jean-Paul.”

Bonnet swallowed and blinked.

“What is your mother’s name?”

“Bethany.”

“Ha, like the Queen. What a coincidence!” said Elland.

“Elland, you blithering idiot,” said Bonnet.

“Not going very far, that one,” said Jean Luc.

Bonnet stood swaying on the spot, seemingly unsure what to do.

“If I might make a suggestion,” said Jean Luc.

Bonnet said nothing but stopped swaying.

“Firstly, never let Elland near a sword again. And secondly, you should run off and send a message to Old Town,” said Jean Luc.

“Yes, Sir.” Bonnet hesitated. “I mean, Yes, Your Highness.” He bowed his head slightly. “You’re free to cross, obviously.”

“Thank you.”

The sun had yet to reach the opposite horizon when the doors of the Bull’s Head flew open.

“Where is he? Where is the person claiming to be Jean Luc?!” exclaimed a deep, booming voice.

Jean Luc didn’t respond. He just sat back in his chair and smiled. Two dozen people bowled into the tavern behind the King and fanned out around him.

“Where is he?!” shouted the King.

The heads of the patrons slowly turned to face Jean Luc, who was sitting in a comfy chair by the fire. He turned to face his father. Their eyes met, and his father stopped on the spot, stunned.

“Hi, Dad. Nice crown.”

“Ten years, and that’s what you go with?” asked his father calmly.

“I figured ‘Hi, Dad. I’m alive’ was a bit on the nose. And I did always like that crown.”

“That’s definitely my big brother,” said a tall young man who looked strikingly like their mother.

“Still a weedy little git, I see, Claude,” said Jean Luc.

“Mum is going to be so angry with you,” said Jean Claude.

“This isn’t exactly the warm welcome home I imagined...” said Jean Luc.

“You certainly look the part. But nothing you’ve said so far convinces me that you’re not an imposter.”

“When I was nine years old, I was playing with your sword in the throne room. I raised it over my head, but it was too heavy, and I dropped it, nearly slicing my hand off in the process,” said Jean Luc, holding up his hand to show the scar across his palm.

“That’s a well-known story and a common enough scar.”

“Yes, but what isn’t well known is that I didn’t actually cut my hand when I dropped it. I cut it trying to put the ruby back in place. It fell out when I dropped it, so I quickly found some wax, heated it up with a lamp, and used it to fix the ruby back in. That’s when I cut my hand.”

The King considered Jean Luc for a moment, then drew his sword. On one side of the hilt, a sapphire gleamed; on the other, a ruby. The King turned the sword so that the ruby faced him and examined it closely before reaching up and pulling the ruby free.

“Well, I’ll be damned. How did I never notice that? I’ve fought a dozen battles with this sword in the last twelve years, and that ruby didn’t budge.”

“About that—what the hell happened while I was gone?”

“Now is not the time for that. Now is the time for drinking and singing. My son is alive!!!” shouted the King.

“Hurrah!” shouted his assorted retinue.

“Barkeep, tonight everyone drinks on the palace!”

The entire tavern cheered.

The King strode forward and reached out a hand to Jean Luc. They embraced each other’s forearm, and the King pulled his son to his feet and into a bear hug.

“Welcome home, Luc!” shouted the King as he lifted Jean Luc into the air.

“The Return of Prince Charming. I guess this means I don’t get to be King now,” asked Jean Claude.

“Sorry, little brother,” said Jean Luc.

“It’s okay. I guess you being alive is worth it.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I did spend the last ten years as a slave.”

“And that’s different from being the Crown Prince how? After you ‘died,’ they wouldn’t let me out of their sight...”

“Ha. Well, now you can go jump off a cliff and get lost for a decade.”

“I might just do that.”

The night quickly became a blur as the alcohol flowed freely.

When Jean Luc awoke the next day, he momentarily thought he was dreaming, for he was laid upon his childhood bed, staring up at a painting of the night sky. It quickly dawned on him that they must have travelled home during the night at some point.

He sat up and looked around the room. It was exactly as he remembered it, as if the past ten years had passed everywhere except this one place. He slid off the bed and walked over to the bookshelf, running his finger along a row of books before selecting the one he had been reading before his fateful fall.

He pulled the book free and smiled at the sight of the bookmark protruding just above the pages. Returning to the bed, he lay down to read, flipping back several pages to refresh his memory before continuing.

He had been reading for nearly an hour when there was a knock at the door.

“Enter,” said Jean Luc.

The door swung open, revealing a young girl who bowed her head and dipped her knees before speaking.

“Your Highness, your presence is requested for breakfast,” she said.

“I guess some things never change. And please, no bowing, no curtseying, and definitely no ‘Your Highness-ing.’ My name is Luc, and just because I happen to be the King’s son doesn’t mean you have to bow to me.”

“Sorry, sir,” said the girl timidly.

“I guess ‘sir’ is better than ‘Your Highness.’ It’ll do for now. Lead the way,” said Jean Luc.

As the young girl turned, Jean Luc caught a pleasant scent in the air. He followed her across the hallway and down the main staircase.

“What’s your name?”

“My name couldn’t possibly matter, sir,” said the girl as she turned a corner

“Well, if you prefer ‘servant girl,’ so be it.”

“Here we are, sir,” she said, opening the door to the dining hall.

Jean Luc had expected his mother to leap up and rush to him the moment she laid eyes on him, but to his surprise, she remained seated.

“Good morning,” Jean Luc said casually.

His mother smiled and raised her arms, beckoning him.

“You’ll have to come to me, I’m afraid,” she said.

Jean Luc raised an eyebrow but rushed forward to hug her.

“From the look on your face, I assume your father hasn’t told you about my illness,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“I didn’t want to spoil the occasion,” his father admitted.

“I did wonder why you weren’t there last night, but then I got drunk…” Jean Luc said with a laugh.

“Like father, like son,” his mother teased.

They shared a pleasant breakfast, Jean Luc savouring the food—he hadn’t eaten this well in ten years. The young girl from earlier was serving tea when his mother sat up in her chair and locked eyes with him.

“No,” Jean Luc said, already knowing exactly what she was about to say.

“I haven’t even said anything.”

“And I’m telling you ‘no’ before you even get the words out.”

“It is your duty.”

“I just spent the last ten years on a farm, doing backbreaking labour sixteen hours a day. The last thing I want is to become a slave again.”

“Ha,” his father chuckled.

“Don’t encourage him,” his mother chided.

“I am not marrying that prissy little witch from Francas. I’d go back to the farm before spending a single minute with that girl,” Jean Luc said.

“Are you talking about Eleanor?” asked Jean Claude.

“Do you know any other prissy little witches from Francas?”

“Erm, son,” his father said, tapping Jean Luc on the shoulder.

“That ‘prissy little witch’ is my fiancée,” said Jean Claude.

“Wow. I dodged a cannonball there. I guess there was a silver lining to being a slave for a decade. I doubt she’ll still want to marry you now that she won’t be Queen,” Jean Luc said with a laugh.

Jean Claude stood up and stormed out of the atrium, shouting, “Isn’t it lovely to have Prince Flipping Charming back in the palace?!”

“That was not at all the kind of behaviour I expected from my fully grown son,” their mother said.

“It was just a joke. I’ll apologise later.”

“Make sure you do. You’re not a child anymore. I know you’ve had it rough, but that’s no excuse to be unkind. If you are going to be King, you need to learn to hold your tongue,” his father explained.

“About that… I’m not sure I want to be King. I’ve seen the world from the lowest rung of the ladder, and nothing about anyone I’ve met makes me think I have any right to rule over them just because of whose blood runs in my veins.”

“No one has the right to rule,” his mother said. “True power lies in the ability to persuade, not to dictate. Your father and I have ruled over this land for twenty-five years. My father ruled for fifty-two before that, and my grandmother for forty before him. Do you know who sat on the throne before her?”

“Her father or mother, I assume.”

“She was born penniless into a country in ruins, a princess in name only. For generations before her, our family mistreated their subjects and the land, and so the people revolted. Her parents were stripped of their titles and exiled. My grandmother was four years old when the crown was placed on her head. Until she was sixteen, a council ruled in her stead while she was properly educated and traveled the world. When she finally took the reins of power, she transformed Rostovia. My father did the same, as have we—and so will you. Your unique experiences will doubtless make you a wiser and kinder monarch.”

“Rostovia has certainly changed a lot since I left. What the hell happened?”

“In a word, war,” said his mother.

“Not long after you vanished, a man walked into Old Town and straight up to the palace gates. He asked for an audience and was granted it. He represented several thousand refugees from a land far to the west called Tacktrea that had been devastated by an invading force. Those who hadn’t been killed were taken into slavery, their towns and villages destroyed. These people were all that was left of a once-mighty nation. They had been refused asylum by every other state between here and their home, but we took them in,” explained his father.

“After that, refugees began to arrive every few weeks, hailing from lands closer and closer to Rostovia. Those who had refused to take in the Tacktreans had now become refugees themselves. This continued for years, our population swelled, and our nation boomed. But it was becoming increasingly obvious that, eventually, our own borders would be under threat,” continued his mother.

“We recruited thousands of people into the army and massively upgraded our defences. Finally, Francas was overrun, and we went on the offensive. I marched out with the army, and we formed up for battle, but the enemy retreated. That was a year ago, and we’ve not seen them since.”

“Where are they from?”

“No one knows. None of those taken have ever returned, and we don’t speak their language, so we can’t get information out of any of the soldiers we’ve captured,” said his mother.

“Perhaps I could try. There were slaves from dozens of countries on the farm. Even if I can’t speak their language, I might be able to tell you where they are from.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” said his father. “I will arrange for you to visit the prison camp.”

“We have more pressing issues to discuss,” said his mother.

“I already said no. I’m not marrying some girl I’ve never met.”

“Son, I am not long for this world, and before I leave it, I would at least like to know that my firstborn child has found love.”

“But you’re not talking about love; you’re talking about me marrying someone so I can have babies.”

“Have I ever told you about when I first met your father?”

“No.”

“My mother met him on a trip to Francas, and she was convinced we were perfect for each other. And I have to admit, when I first saw him, I was quite taken with him. But I outright refused to marry him. My father was having none of it, however. He told me I had no choice. I would have run away had my father gone ahead with his plans.

But your father wasn’t interested in marrying me unless I was willing. He told my father that he would speak with me and make me an offer. He asked me for a chance to win my affection. I gave him that chance, and he did win my affection. We were married three months after we met. All that I am asking is that you give some lucky girl a chance, the way I did."

“I suppose I could do that,” said Jean Luc.

“Good. I’ve already sent out invitations,” said his mother with a grin.

Later that day, Jean Luc found his younger brother and apologised for his earlier remarks about Eleanor.

“It’s alright. To be honest, my friends have said worse things about her. She’s not the most agreeable person at times.”

“Look, if she makes you happy, then that’s all that matters—or at least that’s what Dad says.”

“I suppose you didn’t get much chance for romance being a slave.”

“Not really. Especially since there’s no privacy when you live in a barn with nearly a hundred other people.”

“Well, Mum’s going to fix that right up. She’s going to parade every eligible girl in the world past you if she has to.”

“She’ll need to.”

“Is the problem that you don’t like girls?”

“I like them just fine, I just don’t want to marry one.”

“That’s just not an option, and you know it.”

“Why can’t you stay as the Crown Prince? I don’t want to be King.”

“You’ve certainly changed if that’s true.”

“I have, and it is. What gives me the right to rule over anyone? Leaders should be given authority on merit, not because of who their parents are.”

“When you’re King, you can appoint people to run the country for you. Mum and Dad don’t do it all by themselves.”

“You’ll never understand because you’ve never lived like the rest of the world does. We aren’t better than them; we’re just wealthier and better educated.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“You might know it on an intellectual level, but unless you’ve lived it, you can’t possibly understand how ridiculous it is.”

“Perhaps. I really must get on, I’m meeting Eleanor for a riverside picnic.”

“Don’t let me keep you.”

“You should join us.”

“Join you for a romantic afternoon by the river? No, thanks.”

“It’s not just the two of us; some of her friends are coming, and I’m taking Jacu, Belile, and Hardy along.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I have a book I’ve been waiting to finish for over a decade.”

Claude smiled as he made his way across the hall and out of sight. Jean Luc leaned against the doorframe for a long while before making his way to his bedroom, where he grabbed the book from his bedside table and flopped onto his bed.

After breakfast the following day, Jean Luc was summoned to his father’s Council Chamber by the same servant girl he had met yesterday.

“So, Servant Girl, are you going to tell me your name? Or are you going to make me guess?” asked Jean Luc as they walked up a narrow flight of stairs.

The girl laughed but did not answer his question.

“I could order you to tell me,” he said.

“This way, Sir,” said the servant girl as she ducked through a painting of Jean Luc’s Great Uncle, the former King of Francas, which hid a secret passage.

“This is new. How many more of these secret passages are there?” asked Jean Luc.

“I’m not sure, Sir. I’ve only been here for a few months. I know of thirteen, but I’m sure there must be more that even the servants don’t know about.”

They walked up a winding staircase and exited through another painting.

“Here you are, Sir. Your father is waiting inside.”

Jean Luc strode into the Council Chamber, expecting his father to be alone, but instead found himself confronted by at least forty people, all of whom were sitting around a circular table.

“Ah, Jean Luc, you’re here,” said his father.

“Good morning, Father. I was told you wanted to see me,” said Jean Luc.

“Indeed. Please, take your seat,” said his father, gesturing to an empty chair to his left.

Jean Luc sat down and leaned back to look at his father, who was still standing behind his own chair.

“I call this council to order,” said his father as he sat down. “Our first order of business is an announcement. With the return of Jean Luc, the Queen and I believe a celebration is in order, and so we shall be holding a festival here at the palace in two weeks’ time. For two days, the palace shall be open to the public to enjoy, and any girl of marriagable age who wishes to meet the returning Crown Prince is encouraged to attend a grand ball that shall be held on the second evening.”

"The Queen doesn't waste any time, does she?" asked a dark skinned old man with long grey hair that fell in heavy locks around his face.

"She's been planning this for more than sixteen years. I'm fairly sure she's had the invitations ready to go since the day she realised she was pregnant," said his father with a laugh.

"When you say any girl of marriagable age, I assume you mean to include commonfolk?" asked a middle-aged woman wearing a strange headdress Jean Luc wasn't familiar with.

"I believe commonfolk fall within the bounds of any, yes,"

Now that Jean Luc looked around the room he was taken aback by the varied clothing, hairstyles and skin colours of the assembled council. It seemed his father had sought to include representatives of all the new communities that had immigrated to their lands.

"If I may?" said Jean Luc unsurely.

His father nodded his assent.

"It is extremely unlikely that I will choose to marry any of the women I meet at this festival, however, I would like to make it clear that no one is to force their daughter to attend this event just so they can meet me. If I do choose to marry, it will be to someone who wants to marry me, not someone who has been told that's what they'll do,"

"We shall make it abundantly clear that attendance is entirely voluntary," said his father.

"Thankyou," said Jean Luc.

"And now, on to more serious matters,"

The council meeting took up most of the morning. As the meeting broke up servants brought food and wine and they ate while his father had concluded several follow-up conversations while Jean Luc was peppered with questions about his time as a slave. Several of the council members were favourably impressed when he was able to speak their native tongues.

Jean Luc was conversing in Swattish with a young woman when his father tapped him on the shoulder.

"Sorry to interrupt but we have business to attend to," he said.

"Dobra vie," said Jean Luc as he stood up.

"Dobra vie," said the young woman.

His father's muscled arm draped over Jean Luc's shoulders as they walked out of the Council Chamber.

"Dobra vie, that means goodbye in Swattish?"

"Essentially, yes. It directly translates to something like happy life, but it serves the same function in conversation,"

"Exactly how many tongues do you speak now?"

"About fifty,"

"Impressive. Very impressive,"

They spent a pleasant coach ride talking about the various languages and the peoples that spoke them while they travelled to the prison camp. When they arrived Jean Luc and his father were taken straight to the area where the foreign soldiers were housed.

"Jean Luc this is Major Rayton. Major, anything new to report?" asked the King.

"Nothing of note. A few of them have picked up some basic Rostovan, words like food, water, cold, that kind of thing but they rarely speak their own tongue whenever we're around so we haven't even figured out how to say hello to them yet,"

"That's why Jean Luc is here. I'm hoping he will have a little more luck," explained the King.

"I doubt it, we've tried everything from bribery to interrogation. From what I've learned from the refugees nobody has had any success communicating with them, I think they're under orders not to co-operate if they're captured,"

"I've got an idea," said Jean Luc.

Jean Luc awoke with a throbbing pain in the back of his head. Not the worst knockout blow I've ever suffered, he thought. Without opening his eyes, Jean Luc started to push himself upright. He heard voices around but the ringing in his head was so distracting that he wasn't paying attention.

After a few more seconds the ringing started to die down and he was able to open one eye. He was wearing thick leather boots with metal toecaps and heavy linen trousers, his chest was bare exposing his scarred skin to the cool air.

The voices had stopped now, they must have realised Jean Luc was awake, he opened his other eye and glanced around. The other men were wearing matching boots and trousers and were similarly scarred, though whether from torture, beatings or simply the result of warfare, he couldn't tell.

The men were obviously weary of the unknown newcomer and so Jean Luc did some fast thinking and pretended to pass out again, it wasn't much of an act, it was taking all his willpower to stay conscious. His father hadn't held back when he stuck his son with the hilt of his sword, they had to make it look convincing afterall.

Several minutes passed before the men began to speak again and Jean Luc understood every single word. They were speaking Miklovan, the same language his owners had spoken. Jean Luc continued his ruse for another ten minutes before slowly raising himself up once more.

"Would you lot please be quiet. I have a really bad headache," said Jean Luc in Miklovan.

"So you are Miklovan. We thought you might be one of them, you're alone?" said someone from behind Jean Luc.

"I've been here in Old Town for months, gathering information, they just caught me two days ago,"

"What's your name, kid?"

"Marko,"

"Well, Marko. Don't make yourself too comfortable, another two weeks and we'll be out of this place,"

"Sounds good to me,"

Jean Luc spent the rest of the day trying to gather as much information as possible without arousing suspicsion, which was no easy task. Thankfully, he had become extremely adept at this very task while working on the farm, it was how he had managed to make himself so useful and trusted that he was able to escape.

The Miklovans Jean Luc had known on the farm were generally gruff of manner and quick to anger and these new Miklovans were no exceptions. He supposed that there must be Miklovans that were of a less agressive nature, from experience and logic he knew such people were likely in the majority, but those who held the power and wealth seemed to be firmly in the "not friendly" category.

When time came for the prisoners to be fed and watered for the evening Jean Luc's time was up, he quickly ate the bread roll that the guard handed him and then stood up.

"I want another one," Jean Luc said.

"You only get one," replied the guard.

"But there's more than enough," said Jean Luc as he lunged for the large sack the guard was carrying.

"Keep your hands off!" shouted the guard as he grabbed the baton he carried on his hip.

"Give it!" shouted Jean Luc as he deftly removed the baton from the guard's hand and then swung the weapon.

The baton collided with the guard's back and rang loudly against his armour, he toppled forwards and dropped the sack, spilling the contents across the floor. The other prisoners dived about, collecting as many rolls as they could while Jean Luc continued to attack the guard.

Jean Luc felt bad for the guard, he hadn't been let in on the plan and wasn't aware that the man beating him with his own baton was infact the Crown Prince. More guards streamed into sight and Jean Luc turned his attention to them, he took a ready stance and several Miklovans joined him.

During his time on the farm Jean Luc had been fortunate enough to spend several years working in a field ajacent to the training grounds and had been able to observe Miklovan martial arts training and had secretly practiced the techniques. He had thought it might be useful for his escape plan but today it was to be even more useful.

The fight lasted several minutes until the Rostovan guards finally overwhelmed the prisoners, Jean Luc was the last prisoner standing, the others either unconscious or currently being restrained by several guards each. Even restrained, the Miklovans jeered at their captors and offered encouragement to Jean Luc as he bravely fought on.

Finally, Jean Luc felt a strong arm wrap around his chest from behind.

"That's enough," whispered Captain Crullet

Jean Luc allowed the Captain of the Guard to lift him off his feet and slam him to the ground, knocking the wind out of him.

"Grab that one and bring him, leave the rest of them," said Captain Crullet

"What about the food?" asked one of the guards

"Let them have it, I doubt they'll be able to eat much of it with broken jaws and cracked ribs," the Captain laughed as he strolled out of the enclosure.

Jean Luc was dragged out behind the Captain by two guards, one of whom was the man he'd beaten with the baton. Once they were out of sight of the Miklovans Jean Luc attempted to get his feet under himself.

"There's no need to carry on the charade now," said Jean Luc

The guard Jean Luc had beaten earlier slapped him across the face.

"Quiet, you're in a lot of trouble," he said.

"I'm really not. I'm sorry about hitting you with your own baton, but if you slap me again you'll be in the stocks before you can say I'm sorry, Prince Luc,"

"If you don't shut up, I will shut you up," said the guard.

"Captain Crullet, you'd better let this idiot in on the joke," said Jean Luc with a raised voice.

"call me an idiot again and I'll cut your tongue out,"

"I'd watch who you're threatening, if I were you," said the Captain "Release the Prince, if you please,"

"Sorry? What?" said the confused guard.

"This is Prince Luc, heir to the throne. He has been attempting to find out more about our mystery prisoners," said the Captain as he helped Jean Luc to his feet.

"I've done more than attempt. We need to get to my father, right now,"

Captain Crullet led the way to the nearby castle where the King was waiting.

"Everything went to plan, I see," said the King.

"Perfectly to plan. Those men are Miklovan, the people who held me as a slave were also Miklovan. Until today I had no idea where Miklova actually was, I still don't know but I do know it's across the sea to the west. They see anyone who isn't Miklovan as a resource to be harvested, they're here because they need slaves to keep their economy working and they'd already conquered and enslaved everyone on their side of the sea,"

"We'd already largely figured that part out, but it's nice to have it confirmed,"

"I assumed as much, but what you certainly didn't know is that we've been doing exactly what they wanted us to do. The woman who leads them is clever, really clever, she knew she didn't have the stength to defeat us after we took in all the refugees and bolstered our army. She needed time to get more troops from home and to secure the lands they'd already seized but she also knew she didn't have the resources to feed her current army and the reinforcements,"

"So she got us to feed them for her," finished his father.

"Precisely, we've been housing and feeding forty thousand enemy troops for over a year. We've also kept them in fighting shape by having them do hard labour eight hours a day,"

"Please tell me you found out when they will attack again?" asked his father.

"The day after the festival ends. Advanced mounted troops will race across the border and attempt to liberate the prison camps, and we're not just talking about the Miklovans either. They're planning to offer a place in their army to any prisoner who will take up arms with them, doubtless they'll just enslave or kill them once they've served their purpose but that could add another twenty thousand soldiers to their ranks,"

"We need to arm Old Town and Marshvale. Doubtless they have spies everywhere, so we need to do it covertly,"

"Old Town isn't an issue, just invite officers to the ball and give their units leave to enjoy the festival. We could have fifty thousand troops in the city ready to go,"

"That's a great idea, son. If we make a song and dance about it, we can make them think a large portion of our army isn't ready for a fight, meanwhile we'll be ammassing troops near the border at Marshvale,"

"I think it would be prudent to move the prisoners to a more secure location, perhaps we should relocate all these Miklovans to the Dalton camp?" suggested Captain Crullet

"Yes, but it must be done at the last moment. We can begin to relocate the other prisoners in small groups at once, put them in camps farther from the border," said the King.

"Crullet, only your most trusted men are to interact with the Miklovans from this point forward," said Major Rayton

"Yes, Sir,"

"Major, I'll see you at the Grand Ball," said the King as he stood and strode from the room.

Jean Luc followed his father with a salute in the direction of the Major and Captain in turn, which they returned, and then caught up and fell into stride with the King.

"For someone who doesn't want to be King, you've taken very quickly to leadership. You just earned the respect and loyalty of two very important men," said the King.

"Which two?" asked Jean Luc with a smile.

"You already had mine, son,"

The next two weeks were a flurry of preparations in Old Town, his home had undergone a fabulous transformation in Jean Luc's exile, what had been a large town when he left was now a bustling city comparable to any of those he had visited on his journey home. Jean Luc spent most of his time wandering through the city exploring and sight seeing and the rest in council meetings.

The festival went off without a hitch, not even a single tavern brawl broke out. Jean Luc spent most of the two days sitting with his parents on the balcony overlooking the Old Town square watching the various performances, there had been everything from stage magicians to singers.

Finally, the morning of the Grand Ball arrived. Jean Luc was already propped up by a pillow and reading a book by the time he was summoned for breakfast.

"Good morning, Sir. Your mother requests your presence for breakfast,"

"Good Morning, Servant Girl, will today be the day you finally tell me your name?"

As usual, the girl simply laughed.

"I guess I'll find out tonight at the ball when the herald introduces us formally,"

"I won't be attending the ball, Sir,"

"Why not?" said Jean Luc with a laugh.

"Respecfully, Sir, you have made it very clear that you won't be marrying anyone you meet, and even if I were attracted to you, how could I ever hope to compete with the hundreds of high born women vying for your affection?"

"I'm not talking about that, you'll be missing a great party. Truth be told, that's the only reason I'm going. You should come, you can always skip the parade if you're determined not to tell me your name,"

"Why is it so important to you, Sir?"

"So I can address you by your proper name. Just as I wish you would address me by mine,"

"But that would be improper, Sir,"

"According to whom? The difference in our stations in life are based upon luck of birth, nothing else,"

"Here we are, Sir. Your mother is waiting for you,"

"I'm not going in until you tell me your name. I will follow you around the palace all day until you either tell me, or someone uses your name, if I have to," said Jean Luc barring the door so the girl couldn't open it.

"Ella, Sir,"

"Thank you, Ella. See, now that wasn't so hard, was it? Perhaps tomorrow I will finally get you to call me Luc,"

Jean Luc pulled the door open and joined his mother for breakfast.

That night, Jean Luc found himself surrounded by more beautiful and willing young women than he knew how to process, all of them there for the mere chance to exchange a few words with him.

"This is ridiculous. You see how ridiculous this is, don't you?" said Jean Luc to his mother as they walked down the staircase into the Ball Room.

"Most men your age would think they had died and gone to heaven if presented with such a situation," said his mother.

"In other words, yes, you see how ridiculous this is,"

"The world is ridiculous. Life is ridiculous. That's just the way things are,"

"Well, I guess it beats being a slave," said Jean Luc.

He spent the next five hours exchanging inane pleasantries with one beautiful young woman after another, their names and faces blurred into one another to the point that he doubted even if he did meet the woman of his dreams whether he would be able to recall them in the morning.

Eventually, Jean Luc could take no more and he managed to slip out a side entrance and make his way up to the balcony to get some fresh air. To his horror, a young red-haired woman was leaning casually against the balcony wall, he tried to quickly turn around and slip away but she must have sensed his presence because she turned around with a start.

"Oh, your Highness, you startled me,"

"Sorry about that, I didn't expect anyone to be up here,"

"I was just taking in the view, I've never been much for parties but I like watching people,"

"Well, I'll leave you to it," said Jean Luc.

"If you want to stay, we wouldn't have to talk. I imagine the last thing you want to do right now is talk to yet another girl,"

"I can't really complain about having several thousand young women throwing themselves at me," said Jean Luc as he walked over and sat on the balcony wall.

"Every teenage boy's dream," she said.

"Most of them wouldn't look twice at me if I wasn't a Prince,"

"Did anyone take your fancy?" she asked casually

"Plenty of them got my blood pumping, but not a single one got it pumping to my brain,"

She laughed musically and smiled widely and Jean Luc took a good look at her for the first time. She was truly stunning with bright blue eyes and freckles across her nose and cheeks, long curled red hair flowing down to her waist. He wasn't sure why but she looked familiar.

"Have we met?" asked Jean Luc

"Before tonight, you mean?" she asked.

"No, I mean have we already met tonight? You look familiar,"

"I'm sure I do after seeing all those girls faces one after the other all night, but no, this is the first time that we've spoken tonight,"

"Perhaps you're right," said Jean Luc.

They stood in silence for several minutes as they watched the party that continued to rage below before Jean Luc initiated conversation again.

"You clearly didn't come here to meet me, so why did you come?"

"My step-sisters and I are supposed to be learning about Rostovan culture. They couldn't wait to meet you, I would warn you against choosing either of them but by the sound of it you weren't impressed by anyone you met tonight,"

"There was one girl I met who was rather intriguing," said Jean Luc glancing up and down at the young woman beside him.

She was wearing a long baby blue dress that hugged her waist and thighs before flairing out to the floor behind her, her legs were exposed from the knee down and she wore high-heeled shoes that seemed to be made of crystal. The shoes gleamed in the flickering torchlight reflecting red hues that mixed with the reflected light of the dress to form deep purples. Jean Luc was momentarily mesmerised and moved closer to her without meaning to.

"What was her name? My sisters are called-"

"I haven't got her name yet," interrupted Jean Luc looking the girl directly in the eyes for the first time.

She blushed as she realised that he was talking about her and she suddenly turned shy and looked away, Jean Luc again caught that unknown pleasant smell on the breeze as it washed over her.

"My name couldn't possibly matter less, Your Highness," she said with a smile and a courtsey.

"Please, don't call me that and certainly don't courtsey. My name is Luc,"

This seemed to amuse her.

"If you say so, Your Highness,"

"I'm serious,"

"I know, it's cute,"

Now it was Jean Luc's turn to blush.

"I think that's the fist time someone's called me that since I was a baby,"

"I get it, you want the commonfolk to think you don't think you're better than them,"

"because I'm not,"

"but, you are. Not because you were born better, but because you choose to be,"

"We've just met, how could you possibly know that?"

"Magic,"

"Very funny,"

"I know it because a lesser man wouldn't be here talking to me, he'd be down there with all those beautiful girls,"

"Maybe I just don't like girls," said Jean Luc, his eyeline dropping to her waist.

"We both know that isn't true," she said as she raised his chin with one finger so their eyes met.

Fireworks erupted in the distance and the clocktower bells rang out to mark the official end of the festival welcoming Jean Luc home.

"Midnight, that's my curfew. I have to go, it really was nice talking with you, Sir,"

"We're down to Sir, that's promising. Hopefully by the end of our next meeting we'll get to Luc,"

"I doubt we'll meet again, I'm not from around here," she said as she hurried off.

Luc followed her as she hastily walked along the balcony overlooking the Ball Room.

"Tell me where you're from and I'll come visit, I'm the Crown Prince afterall, I can go wherever I please,"

"There you are!" shouted Claude from somewhere behind Jean Luc

Jean Luc turned around to see his brother stumbling towards him with two large glasses of ale.

"I've been looking everywhere, I should have known you'd be up here by yourself, sulking,"

"I wasn't sulking, and I'm not by myself, I haven't got this young lady's name just yet," said Jean Luc turning back to introduce his new friend to his brother.

"And I thought I was drunk, you're talking to imaginary women," said Claude.

She had vanished. Jean Luc looked in every direction before spotting a painting nearby that was rippling, he moved over to investigate and found that the painting covered a secret stairway.

"What the hell?" said Jean Luc in confusion.

"new security feature, there's a whole bunch of them scattered around the palace now," said Claude as he joined Jean Luc on the staircase.

"I knew that, but how did she?" asked Jean Luc

"How did who?" asked Claude.

"The girl I was talking to,"

"There was no girl, you've been overexposed to the opposite sex and it's blown your tiny little male mind. Come on, there's hundreds of real women waiting for you downstairs," said Claude, futily attempting to drag Luc back onto the balcony

Jean Luc shrugged off his brother and raced down the stairs. He found himself with a choice of five passages, he chose on instinct and dived down the leftmost passage. He continued to run, making choices without thinking each time he reached a junction, finally came to a door that he burst through and found himself outside the palace walls, on a side street that led to the Old Town Square.

He looked to his left and right and caught a flash of red and blue in the distance. He chased after her at top speed and had the wind knocked out of him by a large rotund man carrying a barrel of ale as he flew headlong into the square. By the time Luc regained his feet, he had no idea which way she went.

He folded in two and caught his breath before retracing his route back through the secret passages until he was at the foot of the staircase where Claude was sat drinking ale, he handed a mug to Luc as his brother flopped down beside him before raising his own.

"Salut!" said Claude.

"Salut!"

They both drained their mugs in a single draught.

"Did you find her?" asked Claude.

"I thought you said I was imagining her?"

"I did think that until I found this,"

Claude opened his legs to reveal a crystal high-heeled shoe.

"I think I just met the woman I'm going to marry," said Jean Luc.

"and she ran away from you like the plague, sounds like the begginning of a wonderful romance," joked Claude.

"what happened the first time you met Eleanor?"

"I was three or four, I probably kicked her in the shin and called her ugly,"

"I meant when you were older,"

"Oh, she threw a drink in my face because I called her friend a prissy little witch,"

Jean Luc stared wide-eyed at his brother.

"We do have the same mother and father,"

"Well, it worked out for you two,"

"We should get back to the ball, mother will be worried,"

"Please, don't tell her about this. I don't want her involved,"

"I saw nothing, heard nothing and certainly didn't find a crystal shoe that smells of vanilla,"

"Smells of vanilla?" asked Luc

"Yeah, check it out," said Claude, wafting the scent in Luc's direction.

It was the same pleasant smell he had smelled earlier on the balcony when talking with his mystery girl.

"She must be pretty wealthy to be able to afford to waste vanilla like that,"

"What is Vanilla?"

"It's a spice, I guess, it's mostly used to flavour food but its expensive and pretty hard to get, it comes from somewhere across the sea to the west. The Swattish are rather fond of using it to flavour drinks,"

Luc awoke with a throbbing headache and dry mouth as the sun burst through his open curtains. He slowly sat up and stretched. Despite his headache, he felt extremely happy and couldn't quite put his finger on why. An image of a beautiful redhaired girl slowly formed in his mind. He opened one eye and looked at his bedside table, a crystal shoe stood alone upon it.

"She was real, it wasn't a dream,"

He looked at the clock on the wall and was surprised to see it display ten o'clock, he was late for breakfast. He quickly got out of bed and dressed, wondering momentarily why the servant girl hadn't come to summon him to breakfast as she had every morning since his return.

"You're late," said his mother when he arrived for breakfast.

"The servant girl who usually wakes me didn't turn up this morning,"

"Hmm, several of the staff are absent today, we can forgive them for over indulging after the work they've put in over the last two weeks,"

"I wasn't complaining, just stating a fact,"

"Eat up, you will need your strength later today," said his mother.

"Where's Claude?"

"With your father,"

Luc quickly ate his food and hurried to join his father and brother in the Coucil Chamber.

"Ah, Luc, you're alive," said his father in greeting.

"Good morning," said Jean Luc.

"We've just received word that several bands of riders have breached the bridge at Weatherhorn and are heading for the nearby prison camps," said his father.

"Where they shall find five thousand troops waiting for them," said Major Rayton.

"Their main force was spotted heading for the Marshvale bridge, it seems the information you gathered for us was accurate," said his father.

"So when do we head out?" asked Claude

"In one hour," replied his father.

The journey to Marshvale took several hours and the sun was heading back towards the horizon by the time Luc, Claude and the King were standing on the bridge Luc had crossed several weeks ago upon his return to Rostovia staring at a vast enemy army.

"They got here hours ago, why haven't they attacked yet? " asked Claude

"They're waiting for a signal from their advanced force," said Jean Luc.

"A signal that will never come," said the King.

"Sire, now that you're here we should send an envoy to treat with their leader," said Major Bonnett.

"By all means, Bonnett," said the King.

Bonnett rushed off to speak with the many diplomats gathered safely in Marshvale.

"They won't treat with a diplomat, they might even consider it an insult. They'll want to speak with you directly, you're the only person they will see as anything close to an equal,"

"I know, son,"

Bonnett and a group of diplomats hurried across the bridge and out onto the road beyond, they returned some ten minutes later.

"They will only speak with you, Sire," said Bonnett.

"Very well,"

"They said you should come with a second only,"

"Jean Luc," said the King.

Jean Luc and his father mounted their horses and headed for the enemy encampment.

"I don't want you to reveal that you speak their language unless it's absolutely neccessary, understood?"

"I wasn't intending to give up that advantage easily, but yes, understood,"

"From what the leaders of the other nations have told me, she will simply demand our surrender and when we refuse she will form up her army and attack,"

"I wouldn't be so sure that their experiences will be relevant. None of those leaders held half her army in prison camps, nor were their lands as easily defensible as ours,"

"You make a good point,"

They cantered along the road for several hundred metres before two figures on horses began to ride forth to meet them. From the slender shape of the armour, Luc judged both riders to be women. When the four were a bow shot apart they pulled the reigns on their horses and stared at each other for several seconds before dismounting. Both women were clad in black metal armor from head to foot.

Luc's father walked towards his opposite with his hands clasped behind his back. The Miklovan Queen straightened her bracers as she too walked. Both trying to show strength and confidence without appearing agressive. Luc followed in his father's wake, as did the Queen's second, when the King and Queen were within a sword's reach they stopped and waited in silence for a long moment.

It was Luc's father who spoke first.

"I am Jean Paul, King of Rostovia. This is my son, the Crown Prince,"

The Queen nodded her head in Jean Luc's direction, which Luc returned.

"This is Queen Belladonna, ruler of Miklova. You are hereby ordered to return her subjects to her, or her army shall wash over your land like a raging storm,"

"Not relevant, eh?" said the King, glancing back at Jean Luc "Queen Belladonna, surely you do not expect me to just hand them over? I would simply be adding more rain to the storm," he continued.

The Queen's second spoke quietly in Miklovan which was muffled further by her helmet, Jean Luc couldn't make out what she was saying but assumed she was acting as a translator. The Queen spoke a few words in Miklovan in response. Jean Luc wished he could see their lips moving.

"The Queen has no wish to forcibly conquer your land. Return her subjects, provide an annual tribute of slaves and your land shall be yours to rule as you wish,"

Jean Luc edged forward until he was almost standing beside his father in an attempt to hear what the two Miklovan women were actually saying.

"Returning your subjects is not an unreasonable request, and one I'm open to, but no Rostovan will ever be handed over as a slave. Send your army away, back to where it came from, you can keep the lands you have conquered but you agree that the conflict ends. I return your men and we live as peaceful neighbours,"

Jean Luc was able to make out some of what the Queen's second was saying now and she didn't seem to be translating what his father had said, at least not directly. The Queen's reply was a single word, one Luc wasn't familiar with.

"The Queen would like to know how you can agree to such terms, how you can give away lands that have never belonged to you. Surely the refugees within your borders would prefer to return home?"

"They've made their homes here now, they just want peace,"

A tall figure rode swiftly out from the Miklovan army, he pulled his steed to a halt and leaned down to whisper in the Queen's ear. She nodded and the man rode off once more.

"Please, excuse us for one moment," said the Queen's second.

"Of course," said the King.

Jean Luc leaned over and spoke quietly to his father

"Talk to me, doesn't matter what its about, just talk,"

The King didn't need more of an explanation, he smiled and began to talk but Jean Luc tuned him out, his focus was on the two women who were talking excitedly, their voices rising in volume.

"This is pointless. Our advanced force has clearly been captured or killed, and they've managed to muster an army nearly equal to our own. They must have known we were coming. This is a fight we can not win,"

"You're a coward, just like your father. I thank the gods every day that he chose to marry me after your mother died, heaven knows what state the country would be in with just the two of you in charge,"

"Call me a coward all you like, but I'm not wrong. Your plan has failed,"

"I admit, without the extra troops it will be difficult to infiltrate their land, but we still out number them considerably,"

"Their land is bordered by impassable mountains to the south and east, the sea to the west and a river too wide and deep for even mounted troops to cross. We may achieve victory, but at what cost? What happens when our enemies to the west find out our army has been decimated conquering lands far to the east?"

"Hmm," said the Queen.

Queen Belladonna turned her head to look at Jean Luc and his father. Luc quickly rengaged his focus on his father, who was talking about cogwheels in a clock but quickly stopped when he realised Jean Luc's attention was back on him.

"So?" asked the King in his native tongue

"She's bluffing," said Jean Luc in Francish.

"She also speaks perfect Rostovan, right? That's what my gut is telling me,"

"I think so,"

Luc noticed the two women had retaken their positions and so turned to face them once more.

"Queen Belladonna, why don't we just speak directly. I know you understand everything I'm saying," said the King.

"Very well. I have one final proposal. Your son is unwed, and you have been making very public attempts to rememdy that situation. Your son will marry one of my daughters and our two great lands shall be united by blood, you will return my subjects and we shall depart in peace. I will return at the new moon and you shall give me your answer," said Queen Belladonna.

Without waiting for a response the Queen and her second mounted their horses and rode away.

"I guess we know what happens if I say no," said the King.

"What do you mean, if? I'm not marrying one of her daughters,"

"That is not your decision to make,"

"I think it is,"

"I am the King, and I say it isn't,"

"but I met the girl of my dreams last night. I won't marry some foreign Princess until I've atleast given her the chance to turn me down,"

"Convenient that you're just bringing this up now. You didn't say anything this morning,"

"You can ask Claude, he'll back me up. I didn't think it was appropriate as we were about to march to war, and I didn't know it was going to be so urgent to tell everyone. Plus, I didn't even get her name. I was going to find her first, then tell you and mum about her," explained Jean Luc.

"Well, I'm sorry son, but the choice is no longer in your hands. Come on, we need to consult with the council, and more importantly, your mother,"

The waxing crescent moon was hanging high in the night sky by the time they were back in Old Town but a messenger had been sent ahead and the council members were waiting for them. The King and Jean Luc took their seats and silence fell.

"You all know the deal on the table, I'm sure you've had a good few hours to discuss it, do you need more time or should we vote now?" said the King.

"Excuse me? Do I not get a say?" said Jean Luc

"You already had your say on the way here,"

"If the boy wants to make a case against the deal, I think he has a right to make it infront of all of us," said Councillor Breda, the Swattish representative.

"If his arguments were anything more than childish naivety I would agree,"

"Freedom of choice and true love are childish naivety? You told them that no Rostovan would ever be handed over as a slave. Well, if I don't have the freedom to say no, I become a slave. I've been a slave, I will die before I become one again,"

"You see, childish nonsense," said the King.

"If you ask me, he sounds just like a young Francan prince I knew a long time ago," said the Queen as she entered.

All heads turned and everyone except the King and Jean Luc quickly rose to their feet and bowed their heads.

"That young man once told me that he wouldn't marry someone who didn't want to marry him, that he would feel like a slavemaster, not a husband,"

"This is a completely different situation. Thousands of lives are at stake, the freedom of choice to marry for one person is insignificant,"

"Mother, please sit down, they won't until you do," said Jean Luc gesturing to the standing council members.

"They can stay standing," she said commandingly "Freedoms are easy to honour when there's nothing on the line. It is when those freedoms are under threat that they need to be honoured the most and defended to our dying breaths,"

"Thank you, mother," said Jean Luc.

His mother raised a finger to silence him.

"However, it is sometimes a citizen's duty to put the wellbeing of the community above themselves. Sometimes we must be willing to sacrifice for the greater good, this may be one of those times,"

"Mother, all my life you've told me that one day I would meet a girl that would make me feel excited and scared at the same time and that's how I'd know she was the one. Well I met her at the ball, and she left before I got her name,"

"Yes, I know, Claude was very drunk but I got the jist of the story. She ran away did she not? Why would she do such a thing?"

"I don't know but I know she felt the same way I did. She can't have gotten far, the next ship out from Longbeech Spit doesn't leave for another week and so she must still be somewhere within our borders. Please, at least let me try to find her,"

"No deal," said the King.

"Excuse me?" said the Queen with a raised eyebrow.

"Bethany, this is not the time," said the King.

The Queen slowly turned her head to look at her husband.

"Stand up," said the Queen.

The King took a deep breath and slowly stood.

"Need I remind you that while I share my powers with you Jean Paul, Prince of Francas, this is my land and my word is law," she said to her husband "That goes doubly for all of you," she said addressing the rest of the council.

"Mother! Don't talk to them like that,"

"Stand and be silent," commanded his mother

Jean Luc said nothing but didn't stand.

"I said stand,"

"You can intimidate them, but I'm the Crown Prince, this is my land, too," said Jean Luc, resolutely sitting in place.

"I can make your brother the Crown Prince again with a few words and a stroke of a pen,"

"Do it, then it won't be worth anyone marrying me for anything but love,"

Finally, his mother fell into her chair next to the King, seemingly exhausted. Slowly, everyone else retook their seats, except the King.

"Dad, sit down," said Jean Luc.

The King did not sit down.

"Mum, tell him to sit down,"

The Queen said nothing.

They sat in silence for several minutes while the King stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes locked on the wall opposite.

"Mum, you've made your point. We have important issues to discuss,"

"This girl, she was in the parade?" asked the Queen.

"No, she skipped it. She wasn't there to meet me, that's one of the things I liked about her,"

"What did she look like? What was she wearing?"

"Long red hair down to her waist and a blue dress with crystal shoes,"

"I remember speaking with her, she seemed very familiar somehow, polite girl, well spoken, well educated, beatutiful. Yes, I can see why you were so taken with her," said his mother.

"How would you have felt if your father had forced you to marry someone else, right after you met dad?" asked Jean Luc

"I would have refused,"

"Yet I am expected to submit. I will not."

His mother looked him in the eyes and understood that he would not be swayed.

"Sit down, you handsome idiot," said the Queen as she tapped her husband on the behind.

"It seems we are left with no choice but to offer Queen Belladonna something of equal value," said the King.

"She will take nothing less. Her daughter on the Rostovan throne is the only thing as valuable as slaves," said Jean Luc.

"The men were prepared to go to war today, if Jean Luc will not agree to her terms then I see no reason in attempting to bargain further," said the Queen.

"I have a question," said Jean Claude, who must have entered in their mother's wake.

"Go ahead," said the Queen

"How many of those men do you think would be less willing to go to war if they knew the whole thing could have been avoided if Jean Luc had just agreed to marry a foreign princess? And do those men have a right to know?"

"A very good question," said Jean Luc

"Some would be more willing," said their father.

"but not most," said Jean Luc "many would see it as a priviledged boy throwing away their lives for his personal happiness,"

"Then we are at an impasse," said his mother "if anyone has a solution, now would be the time to speak up,"

They sat in silence for a long while, people periodically looked up and glanced at each other until Jean Luc broke the silence.

"I think I may have a compromise that will satisfy all parties," he said "I will spend the next month trying to locate the girl I met last night, and if I can not find her in time, or if she isn't interested, I will marry one of Queen Belladonna's daughters,"

"That would certainly satisfy the rank and file," said his father.

"Does anyone have an objection?" asked his mother.

Nobody spoke.

"I will have a horse ready for you in the morning," said the King.

"Make it two," said Jean Claude.

Jean Luc was awoken by his brother knocking loudly on his bedroom door before opening it and striding inside as Jean Luc slowly roused himself.

"I thought I'd find you waiting in the stables," said Jean Claude

"The servant girl didn't come to wake me," explained Jean Luc

"You can set an alarm on that thing over there called a clock, you know?"

Jean Luc threw on a tunic, trousers and riding boots then tied his hair back with a strip of cloth.

"Then what do we pay the servants for?" he asked.

"Fair point. Shall we get going?"

The brothers found two sleek mares waiting for them with provisions already packed in the saddle bags and departed for Longbeech Spit with all haste. They arrived as the sun was hovering on the horizon and immediately headed for the harbor where they located the Dockmaster and confirmed that no ships had left for a week.

They spent the night at a local inn and then began to seach the city for Jean Luc's mystery girl the following morning. After speaking to several people Claude suggested finding an artist who could, with Jean Luc's guidance, create a facsimile of the girl for them to show people.

It took only a few minutes to locate a skilled artist but most of the day for the young woman to produce a likeness that Jean Luc was satisfied with. Claude instructed the woman to make as many copies as she could before he returned two days later and handed her a bag of coins.

"Your Highness, I cannot take this," said the woman.

"Please, call me Claude. You must be paid for your work, young lady,"

"But, Your-, Prince Claude, this is enough money that I will never have to work again. I couldn't possibly take it,"

"What is your name?" asked Jean Luc

"Gina, Sir,"

"Are you married, Gina?"

"No, Sir,"

"Do you have a boyfriend? fiance?"

"A boyfriend,"

"Do you love him?"

"Very much,"

"If he were to vanish one day, how much would you pay to find him again?"

"I'd pay anything,"

"and that is why your work is worth every single ounce of silver and gold inside that bag,"

"I hope you find her,"

"Thank you, Gina. You are a talented artist, whether I find her or not, I don't think this is the last time we'll meet," said Jean Luc as he swept out of the room.

Armed with the drawing, Jean Luc and his brother scoured the city but to no avail. After two days they collected the copies from Gina, which Claude handed over to the local Postmaster with instructions to distribute them to all the nearby towns, where the local Postmasters should in turn make copies and display them, as well as pass copies onward to other towns.

By the time the brothers arrived in Wellsvale - half a day's ride south - to check if any private vessels had been anchored nearby recently posters displaying the face of the mystery girl were already displayed in several windows and nailed to noticeboards. The small town only took several hours to properly explore and they quickly moved on.

By the time they arrived in Wiggsdale, a moderately sized city about forty miles from the coast, the local Mayor had gathered all the local redhaired young women in the city square. The mystery girl was not among them. While Jean Luc was pleased that they no longer needed to seach each town and city when they arrived, he began to become annoyed at the lengths some people were going to in order to look more like the girl in the drawing.

Three weeks passed in this manner, riding from place to place, both young men becoming increasingly more frustrated with their lack of progress. With less than a week before their deadline, they spent the night sat by the fire and drinking ale in a local tavern.

"Do you think she just doesn't want to be found?" asked Jean Luc

"Maybe. I mean, if she's in Rostovia then by now she must know you're looking for her and if she's as taken with you as you are with her, she would be coming to find you, right?"

"So what you're saying is she could walk through that door right now?"

"You never know," said Jean Claude and he turned to look at the tavern entrance.

They waited for several moments in silence.

"So, she either left the country somehow without any officials getting a glimpse of her, or she doesn't want me to find her. Either way, looks like I'm marrying a Miklovan princess,"

"Don't give up just yet, I heard about a woman in the next town who deals with exotic clothing, maybe she can shed some light on that shoe. Seems to me, if we find who made the shoes, we find the girl,"

"Alright, one more town, but then we go home. It's time for me to grow up,"

Jean Luc had become increasingly morose as their deadline approached, it was actually Jean Claude who seemed to be hopeful that their search would end in success and had been keeping his brother from giving up.

The next morning they rode to a small town nestled in the foothills of the mountain range that protected Rostovia's south and east borders. The woman they had been told about stood less than four feet tall and was older than all three Jeans combined. She was fascinated by the crystal shoe and spent at least two hours examining it in all manner of ways.

"I've never seen anything like it, it's exquisite. The shoe seems to be perfectly moulded to the foot of the wearer but how such a thing is achieved I could not tell you," she explained when she finally spoke.

"I guess that's it then, time to go home," said Jean Luc.

"I wouldn't be so hasty, young man. There is a man who moved here several years ago, a refugee from across the sea to the west, he has all manner of unique objects, some of which are of similar craft to this. Come, I will take you to him,"

The woman led the brothers out of town and along a winding path to a small house with an oversized chimney.

"Balthazaar, these two young men would like to show you something," said the woman as she entered an open room at the back of the house.

A tall old man with long hair and a beard shuffled through a doorway and smiled.

"Wilomena, always a pleasure," he said.

The woman waved then departed.

"What can I do for you?" asked Balthazaar

"We were wondering if you had ever seen anything like this before?" asked Jean Luc as he presented the crystal shoe to the old man.

"This crystal shoe belonged to a girl we're trying to find. We were hoping you might know how it is made, and possibly by whom," explained Jean Claude.

The man examined the shoe for a moment, the look of surprise on his face evident.

"I haven't seen one of these in years. You say this belongs to a girl you know?"

"Yes,"

"And the shoe fit her?" he asked incredulously

"Were her feet scared or damaged in any way?"

"No, why?"

"Impossible," he said as he turned away and headed for a workbench.

The old man placed the shoe down and grabbed a strange looking pair of spectacles that he used to examine it.

"Why is it impossible? Expensive, time consuming, yes, but not impossible. It's just carved crystal," said Jean Claude.

"This is not crystal, young man, this is clear obsidian. These shoes are not carved, they are moulded from volcanic lava,"

"Okay, sounds dangerous, but still not impossible,"

"There is only one person alive that could have made this shoe without permanantly disfiguring the wearer, and I'm stood right here,"

"Obviously not," said Jean Luc.

"Maybe she just had scars on the soles of her feet and you didn't notice them, Luc?" asked Jean Claude.

"Maybe,"

"I highly doubt it," said Balthazaar "The girl in question is of similar age to yourself?"

"A little younger I think," said Jean Luc

"Feet continue to grow and change in shape until you are well into adulthood. For a young woman, such a shoe might fit comfortably for a few months at most and the damage caused in the process often takes many more months to properly heal. Even if she were lucky enough to only have scarring on the soles of her feet, she wouldn't be able to wear the shoes before they no longer fit,"

"Why would someone have shoes made if they knew they're not going to be able to wear them?"

"Generally, they don't. The few who practice the craft will usually refuse to make them for anyone so young,"

"But you can do it without causing damage?"

"Yes, my wife and I spent years developing a procedure that prevents the wearer from being injured in the process,"

"where is your wife? could she have made them?"

"My wife is dead. She was taken many years ago by the barbarians who enslaved my home, she was old and infirm, they would have executed her within days of her capture,"

"Maybe she just got lucky or perhaps someone else has worked out what you did," said Jean Luc.

"I suppose it was inevitable that someone would replicate our process,"

"Well, Balthazaar, thankyou for your time and the information," said Jean Luc.

"I'm sorry I can't be of more help,"

"One more question, how much would a pair of these shoes cost?" asked Jean Claude.

"The shoes themselves are not overly expensive, but having them made without greivous injury? That costs more coin than most will ever see,"

"I thought so,"

The brothers headed straight for Old Town and were home before sunset the following day. Their mother consoled Jean Luc, and commended him for his composure and maturity in accepting his lot. The next two days were spent in preparation for a new arrival at the Palace, Jean Luc was given a new much larger bedroom with adjoining rooms that could only be accessed by him and his new bride.

On the final night before the deadline, Jean Luc and Jean Claude were drunk and lounging on chairs in the atrium.

"I feel like I just needed one or two more puzzle pieces and I'd have worked out who she is and where she's from," said Jean Luc.

"If we had more time I'm sure you'd figure it out,"

"Tell me the list again,"

They had spent a portion of the night working out a list of everything they knew about the mystery girl.

"Red hair, blue eyes, rich, possibly a noble. Has a step-mother and two step-sisters,"

"and she likes vanilla," said Jean Luc

"and she likes vanilla," said Jean Claude.

"I guess it would be foolish to the point of insanity to think she might just turn up at the palace entrance in the morning," said Jean Luc before he passed out.

The following morning the royal family rode across the bridge at Marshvale with an entourage of dignitaries and diplomats in tow. They approached the Miklovan army and four figures rode out to meet them. All four were clad in sleek black metal armour from head to toe, Jean Luc assumed the two new armoured women were Queen Belladonna's daughters.

When the four women were only feet away they formed a line and Queen Belladonna dipped her head in the direction of her opposite.

"Queen Belladonna, I am Queen Bethany of Rostovia, Sovereign of this land,"

"Queen Bethany, I've heard tales of the Prince scurrying around the Rostovia trying to find some mystery girl. I do hope that this large retinue means that you have agreed to my terms?"

"In principle, yes," said Queen Bethany

"Very well, then it is time for the young prince to make his choice,"

"Jean Luc, go ahead," said his mother.

Jean Luc stepped forwards and looked at the two young women. They were both stood at attention like a soldier and since every inch of them was covered in metal, neither seemed at all attractive.

"Tell me something about them, I don't even know their names," said Jean Luc.

Jean Luc didn't really care about the responses, now that he was here his brain had kicked into action and he was desperately trying to figure a way out of this whole situation.

"This is Princess Onyx and Princess Amethyst, what would you like to know about them?" said the Queen's herald.

"I'd like to know what they look like," said Jean Luc.

The two women looked at their mother, who nodded. They then removed their helmets, Jean Luc's heart nearly leapt out of his chest as Onyx removed her helmet ro reveal long flowing red hair that fell to her waist, but the moment he saw her face his chest caved in, she was fairly attractive but she wasn't his mystery girl. Amethyst removed her helmet to reveal a plump face bordered with mid-length blonde hair.

"Can I see what's under the armour? Assuming you're not naked under it," asked Jean Luc

Again the women looked to their mother who assented. The girls began to strip off their armour, both were wearing tight leather trousers and tunic, they were athletic and, if Jean Luc was honest with himself, rather nice to look at. He walked around the two young women several times, taking them in for all angles.

He was about to take a third pass when the wind changed and he caught the smell of vanilla. His head snapped in the direction of the smell and he saw Queen Belladonna

"You smell very nice, Queen Belladonna,"

"I'm sorry?" said the Queen in confusion

"Your perfume, it's very nice," said Jean Luc

"I'm not wearing perfume, the smell must be coming from our camp," said the Queen

Jean Luc's eyes drifyed towards the army camp in the distance and he noticed the Queen's herald. It was difficult to say for sure due to her armour, but Jean Luc had the feeling she was trying very hard not to be noticed.

"That was it, the final piece of the puzzle," said Jean Luc with a smile "Queen Belladonna, would it surprise you to know that I've only ever smelled vanilla three times before today? It hadn't reached our shores when I was a child and then I spent ten years on a Miklovan colony farm as a slave, so I hadn't ever come across the stuff until a few weeks ago,"

"That's very interesting," said Queen Belladonna.

"It is, isn't it?" said Jean Luc as he stood infront of Onyx "Claude, list off the physical attributes my dream girl,"

"Red hair to her waist, blue eyes, beautiful. Wealthy,"

"And likes the smell of vanilla," said Jean Luc

"That sounds to me like you are describing my daughter,"

"Yes, but she doesn't smell of vanilla," said Jean Luc.

"I'll see to it that she has a supply of vanilla,"

"You're missing the point, she's not my dream girl,"

"unfortunate for you, but we have an agreement," said Queen Belladonna

"That's what I thought, but I'm not so sure now. I propose a new agreement. Claude, may I have the item, please?"

Claude threw a canvass bag to Jean Luc

"If any of your daughters fits this shoe, I will marry them," said Jean Luc revealing the obsidian shoe "but if they don't, I get to stay a batchelor and in return we will give your back you men and we'll give you the annual tribute of slaves that you actually wanted," he continued.

"Jean Luc," said his father but his mother placed a hand on the King's wrist and gave him a look.

"Let me just make sure I'm understanding you correctly. If one of my daughters fit that shoe, you will marry them as per our original agreement. If not, you will give us the tribute of slaves and return my men? I don't see how this alteration is good for you, but if that is the deal you want, then I will gladly take it,"

"Shake on it," said Jean Luc reaching our his hand.

Queen Belladonna grasped his hand and shook.

"Right then, Onyx, you first," he said

Onyx removed her metal boot to reveal a heavily scarred foot and ankle, she was missing her pinky toe. She put her foot into the shoe and it was clear the shoe did not fit.

"Shame, shame," said Jean Luc.

Next Amethyst took of her boot. Her foot wasn't nearly as damaged as her sister's but it too was scarred. She slipped her foot into the shoe and for a moment it seemed like it fit perfectly, she smiled and raised her head but the moment she lifted her foot the shoe fell away.

"So close," said Jean Luc.

"Well, it would seem you owe me one hundred slaves," said Queen Belladonna.

"Not so fast," said Jean Luc

"Neither of my daughters fit the shoe, that was the terms of the agreement, was it not?"

"But we haven't been through all your daughters yet,"

"Yes, we have,"

"Forgive me, my Miklovan isn't perfect but I could have sworn that when we last met you said that you were married to her father," said Jean Luc pointing to the Queen's herald "That would make her your step-daughter. I did state that if any of your daughters fit the shoe, I would marry them,"

"You speak Miklovan?"

"Did you not hear me say I spent ten years as a slave on one of your colony farms? Now, was I wrong?"

The Queen's herald took several steps backwards as Jean Luc approached.

"It is pointless. You must be aware by now that such shoes are very rare and expensive, I would not waste that much coin on someone so insignificant. She wasn't even at the ball,"

"But she was in the palace, right? She was posing as servant girl, gathering information for you,"

Queen Belladonna didn't respond.

"And I left off one fact about my mystery girl, she has a step-mother and two step-sisters," he said to Queen Belladonna

Jean Luc knelt before the young herald and placed the shoe on the ground.

"Try on the shoe, please," he said.

The young woman slowly bent down and removed her greave and right boot. Her foot was completely unmarked.

"You see, look at those perfect little feet, this is pointless," said Queen Belladonna

"I met a man called Balthazaar, he said that he was the only person alive who could make such a shoe without injuring the wearer. There was one other person who could do it, but he thought she was dead, I'm not so sure,"

The young woman raised her foot and slipped it into the shoe, which fit perfectly.

"Impossible," said Queen Belladonna.

"Her name is Wendel," said the Queen's herald as she removed her helmet.

Long red hair fell out of her helmet and down to her waist, Jean Luc looked up into those sparkling blue eyes and saw the freckled cheeks and nose he had spent the last month pitcuring in his mind.

"It's good to see you again, Ella, or did you lie about your name?" said Jean Luc.

"It's Cinderella, actually,"

"It's nice to finally formally meet you," said Jean Luc.