Just over the Hentian border stood a brunette fourteen-year-old boy with his blonde eight-year-old brother. The promise of hiding and seeking within the grapevines provided enough of an incentive for the fourteen-year-old to distract his younger brother for a time.

"Hiding?" the eight-year-old asked.

"No," the older brunette sighed, watching the smoke rising as the smell of sea air and crashing waves overtook his senses. "Too dangerous."

"Why?" The younger boy flicked his fingers against his right leg.

"Because Ma and Da were right."

"Right?" The eight-year-old cocked his head to the side.

"Yeah, bad men burned them."

"Bad men. Bad men."  The younger brother's repetitions transitioned into a hum as his leg flickering increased.

His father had been right not to trust anyone beyond the village. No one came to protect them. They remained alone on this border, watching each field burn to the ground once a month when the elders refused to pay homage to the raiders.

Across the Judian border, he saw more smoke rising. A sign that these men were not choosing victims based upon national allegiance.

"Bad men."  The younger boy continued to repeat.  His voice becoming a little bit more concerned with each repetition.

"Bad men. Long winter. Careful what we eat," the older one dictated.

"Bad men. Long winter. Careful eat," the younger boy whispered, watching a wooden structure fall before him.

"Yeah," his older brother nodded. "Long winter."

"Swimming?" the younger boy questioned. "Water?"

"Too cold," the older brother sighed.

"Just feet?"

"Okay, just feet." The older brother nodded.

The younger boy took a moment to process the nod before smiling. With a small cheer, he led his elder brother towards the beach.

"Careful feet. Happy feet. Steph and Jace happy."

"Jace, be careful," his older brother, Stephon, called.

When not even a hum could be heard, Stephon quickened his steps.

Many years ago, Jace had fallen on the rocks. He had been different growing up. Jace did not talk much until two years of age, but no one thought much of it. They just let him be. The elders protected his brother by stating everyone had someone like Jace. Well, they used different phrasing that Stephon did not like.

Actually, Stephon hated it. He hated it all. He always had to be there to make sure Jace remained safe. One day Stephon let his anger with his parents about all of it get the best of him. He decided not to care. Stephon let Jace move too swiftly down the rocks. Stephon could still remember Jade's scream and the silence that followed.

After the fall, Jace slept for a day or so. When Jace finally woke-up, his differences became greater. Since then, Stephon made sure he tended to Jace when his parents were working in the field.

Unfortunately, since the raids began, most of the harvest had been destroyed. His parents began to look for work wherever they could. Stephon knew the village would be changing. People already began to speak of famine. He did not know what that meant for Jace, but someone had to protect his brother. Right now, Stephon would do it.  He would not breathe easy until they were beyond the steep, rocky path.

Once Stephon's feet found sand, he watched Jace follow the routine of removing his shoes. He placed them in a perfect line before rolling-up his pants like Stephon taught him. The rolls were not as exact as Stephon's, but they would do.

"Just feet." Jace sang with a smile.

"Just feet."

"Steph's feet?"

"Too cold," Stephon shook his head.

"Short time cold, then warm."

"True."

"Steph's feet!" Jace demanded, pointing to the spot beside his shoes.

"Okay, Steph's feet." He nodded with a laugh.

The water would help him forget about his father, taking a rest from a day's wages, to sit with the town elders. They required all the men of the village to compose a letter to King Valander about their problems. They hoped that their King and Queen would have more open ears than those of High General Lessure.  At least, that who Stephon thought their new high general was.  It sounded right. His father said this would be their final chance to protect them.

"Never lose hope in a man's heart." His father smiled when Stephon voiced his worry hours before. "You will see what we can do, and they will see their mistake. Firstly we are Vetusian; then we are Hentian."

Above them, riding along the cliff through the smoke, Stephon heard the pounding of a horse's hooves as a man's voice spurred the steed on.

"Never lose hope," Stephon whispered, taking off his shoes.

"Happy feet!" Jace screamed from where he stood, splashing in the water.

The rider on the horse smiled upon hearing the shouting from the water. He had a mission to protect the children playing below. The letter he held would secure their safety with the King.

"Ya heard 'im," the rider whispered into his horse's ear.

He liked to believe he could speak to horses. It provided him more individuality than simply being just another heir to a farm. Maybe his name would not be known throughout history, but for generations in his family to come, he would be the one who walked into Taurean Palace to deliver his village's demands.

The rider would tell his wife how he bypassed the old and new High General, and the swooning women he ignored, because his heart always belonged to her, to address His Highness. They would not be the forgotten Hentians. The village of Tillen will be forever strong, forever Vetusian, and forever loyal.

Hopefully, this letter reminded King Valancer of such things.

"We only stop for water," the man stated while tightening his hold on the reigns.

He took the small grunt as the horse's concurrence.

They stopped once for water. Fatigue set a few miles from the city of Gael. Luckily, the pace slowed when they reached Gael.  He could tell his horse wasn't needed to slow down.  

"Just a bit further," he urged the steed on.

His horse's steps had lost much of their speed, but they trotted on. The rider wanted to believe his horse understood their mission. He could have sworn the horse sighed when they went over the last hill to see Taurean Palace surrounded by its high walls.

"Ya see it too?" He smiled.

They stopped outside the gates.  A guard walked out of a small house beside the wall.  He wore the typical Vetusian uniform and had sandy hair tied back at the nape of his neck.

"Do not come any closer!"  He shouted.  "Who are you, and what is your business here?"

The man leaned forward on his horse in exhaustion.  "Besden Pralker from Tillen. I got a letter for King Valander."

The guard snorted.  "Tillen? Why do you not speak with High General Lessure?"

"We have spoke' to Lord Lessure before. Now we have a letter for His Majesty," Besden sat up taller, trying to appear authoritative.

The guard walked back to the small house.  Besden Pralker leaned forward on his horse. He could hear the guards whispering.  There were some things his brain did not need to understand. So, he waited.

"They will let us go soon, boy. We did this for something."  Besden patted the side of his horse's neck.

They waited there under the sun for what seemed like hours but really could have only been ten or fifteen minutes.  Besden felt fatigue beginning to seep further into his bones as they waited.  He had to pinch himself randomly to stay awake.

"Hey you," the guard called. "Move aside for the carriage."

"Can I go in?" Besden perked up slightly.

"We still need to confirm your story.  Now, move aside," the guard ordered.

Besden pressed his lips together.  "I have a letter for King Valander from the people of Tillen. What more do I need?"

"Lady Toria of Castle Perth to see Princess Amnicity," the carriage driver called behind him.

"Do you need to confirm her story? Maybe I should have Lady Toria relay why I am here to the Princess so she can tell King Valander that I wait at his gates because his guards will not let me pass?" Besden shouted.

"Let the bastard go," one of the guards hissed. "High General Lessure will take care of it later."

"You both may pass," the guard yelled to them.

The rattling of wood and chain muffled the end of his words as the gates were opened for them. Besden sighed in relief, moving his horse to the side to let the carriage pass of him.

"Thank you, sir." The driver nodded.

Besden inclined his head in response. Fatigue and distress did not excuse him from following proper etiquette. Though, it did depreciate his ability to enjoy the planned landscape on entering the palace. He set his eyes upon the rear of the carriage in front of him, willing himself not to fall from his horse.

A sigh escaped Besden when his horse stopped in unison with the carriage wheels. Slowly, he unmounted his horse. Besden gave his steed a soft pat, willing his mouth to close upon seeing the guards lining the steps before him. They stood in almost identical formation while staring blankly ahead.  He softly shook his legs as the carriage doors opened.  Besden's eyes widened on seeing Lady Toria exit the carriage.

Her auburn colored hair fascinated Besden's naive eyes. She should have worn a veil. Many ladies preferred to disregard the tradition of covering one's hair before marriage. It was a nasty trick for the heavens to tease him with the most beautiful woman he may ever see but never know.

"Lady Toria! You have finally arrived!"  A female voice screamed.

His eyes widened on seeing every guard bow to the brunette lady as she descended from the palace. Besden followed their example.  He did not want to appear common.

"Princess Amnicity." Lady Toria curtsied.

"Oh, do not be so formal," Princess Amnicity playfully chided, helping Lady Toria rise. "Now, what gifts did you bring today?"

"You are too kind, Princess. I have brought the finished dresses, including the white silks that we spoke of."

Besden turned his head slightly to observe two ladies exit the carriage with an armful of white fabric he could only assume to be the dresses. His eyes met those of the second lady. Her steps stumbled for a moment after their eyes held for too long.

"Careful!" Princess Amnicity screamed, moving quickly towards the lady. "Those dresses are valuable."

Besden felt very simple at that moment. He never knew pretty fabric could hold such power.

"Oh, stop dawdling simply because we are outside the palace. Carry on with your business." Princess Amnicity sighed with a wave of her hand. "Lady Toria, you are brilliant for making your servants wear gloves."

"You were granted access to deliver a letter, not gawk at the Princess and her guest." A soldier's voice sounded from behind him. "Your horse will be cared for in the servants' stalls."

"Thank you, sir." Besden nodded, taking a step forward to follow the Princess's party inside the palace.

Besden did his best not to look towards the Princess's party as he followed behind them. He even tried to maintain propriety by keeping his head turned towards the ground.

"Oh," a lady's voice sounded.

Besden's head instinctively rose to see one of the ladies burdened under the important gowns stumble backward on the steps. She managed to recover. Unfortunately, her recaptured footing did not stop the top dress from tumbling away from her protective arms towards the ground.

"Let me help, milady," Besden called, moving up a few steps while reaching for the gown.

"Thank you, sir," the lady's voice whispered, watching him collect the wayward gown while adjusting the rest.

"Where is--No! Do not move another inch!" Princess Amnicity's voice made the world pause. "How dare you touch the Princess's attire with your dirty hands! Do you not--"

"Princess Amnicity!" another voice sounded above them all. "Halt your words and apologize to this gentleman at once!"

"Mo--"

"Queen Christaline, if you wish to exhibit protocol and standing." Queen Christaline corrected.

Princess Amnicity pressed her lips together while her eyes maintained the Queen's gaze. Besden wished to understand the thoughts that could pass between such powerful persons. At the moment, he could hardly decide if it would be best to return the dress to the lady or return it to the ground. The snap of the Princess's slipper upon stone halted his debate.

"Thank you, good sir, for picking up my dress." Amnicity forced through slightly clenched teeth.

"It is my honor to help, Princess." Besden bowed with a slight halt to his words.

Princess Amnicity turned back to the palace and quickly halted. Queen Christaline's gaze caused the princess to turn back around.

"It looks as if you have traveled far. Do you require any refreshments?" Princess Amnicity asked stiffly.

"You are," Besden started, stumbling slightly while taking a step forward.

Amnicity took a guarded step back with widened eyes.

"Sorry, Princess. It seems the lack of rest when riding from Tillen has taken effect."

"Tillen?" Christaline gasped.

"Yes, my Queen." Besden nodded while rubbing his thighs.

"Michael, take the dress from." Christaline paused, looking to the rider.

"Besden." He bowed. "Besden Pralker."

"Take Princess Amnicity's dress from Mr. Besden Pralker. Mr. Pralker, please follow me." 

The guards acted swiftly, making Bresden start slightly. Queen Christaline motioned for him to follow her up the steps and through the entrance of the palace.  The princess and her guest were immediately forgotten on the steps.

"Do you prefer wine, whisky, coffee, tea, or water, Mr. Pralker?" Christaline asked, leading him through the grand halls.

"Uh," Mr. Pralker paused. "I need to deliver this letter to King Valander."

"Very well," Christaline nodded. "We will go straight there, but you have not answered my question. What would you prefer to drink?"

"Whatever is easiest, Your Highness. I do not wish to be an inconvenience." Besden smiled.

Christaline returned his smile before turning to a maid following behind them.

"Have the cook send up water, wine, tea, and coffee. There would be no need for me to order whisky, Mr. Pralker. King Valander always has a healthy stock within his offices."

"Thank you, my Queen."

Besden had never been in a building where it took so long to reach one person. Oh, the things he would get to tell people.

"King Valander's office," Christaline smiled, knocking on the door.

"My Queen," Henry bowed, opening the door to allow Christaline entrance.

"Henry, this is our guest, Mr. Besden Pralker from Tillen," Christaline announced as Besden followed him into the room.

"Did you say Tillen?" Valander asked, rising from his chair.

"My Liege," Besden bowed, digging into his breast pocket to extend the letter to him.

"All this way for one letter?" Valander smirked, taking it from Besden's charge. "Rise, Mr. Pralker."

"The letter is from the Tillen council, my King. The raiders have returned, burning our crops. They left us with little provisions for the winter or trade," Besden spoke quickly.

"Has anyone been hurt?" Cristaline asked with furrowed eyebrows.

Besden shook his head.  "No, my Queen."

"Praise God," she sighed.

A knock sounded on the door, pausing any further conversation.

"The water, wine, tea, and coffee, Queen Christaline." A lady smiled, moving into the room.

"On the table--unless Mr. Pralker would like a room to rest in instead?" Christaline paused, assessing Besden.

"I would be grateful for a bed and water," Besden sighed.  He had not expected such kindness.

"Find Mr. Pralker a suitable room, water, and dinner. Thank you for your service Mr. Pralker." Valander looked up from the letter to give him a warm smile.

Besden bowed before the most powerful people he would ever meet. It felt quite--crap!  He could not find an adequate word to describe the power and importance he felt within that moment. Besden felt good. Yes, good would work. It felt good to have the most powerful people he would ever meet, watch him leave the room as if he, Mr. Besden Pralker, mattered within this world.

"Thank you again, Mr. Pralker." Christaline smiled.

Besden nodded a final time before the door closed on his moment.

***

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