The Wanderling

The Royal Beggar

I try to conjure up my first memory. It is foggy at best. Like seeing the images of that day through heavily frosted glass. But as I turn to my side and pull the sheets up higher to cover my face, I try to recall it anyway. For as long as I could remember, revisiting that memory has become a sort of calming habit for me.

My eyes close as I try to piece the memory together.

An enormous mobile hangs over my head, spinning idly like a far off planet that had absolutely no interest in this world. A sweet melody carries across the room I am in. To my left, where a wall should be, is a towering window of stained glass. When hit by the brilliant rays of the sun, my room—or at least the part that I can see—almost takes on an ethereal glow as fiery reds and shining blues taint my stone floor and walls.

Metal railings, that look merciless and bland at first, surround all four sides of me as I lay. They, too, tower beyond what my stubby little baby hands could reach. Baby hands. Yes, I think. I am in a crib. And the metal railings on all sides of me are actually carved with figures of animals, of trees and grass billowing against the whisper of the wind.

A young, bright-eyed boy peers over the edge of my crib and reaches in to poke me, I think. Then he laughs, and I think I do, too. But then he looks behind him and his smile fades. He walks out of the room and I can hear a woman’s muffled voice outside.

That was the last time I saw my older brother actually smile at me.

A rustle of curtains pulls me to sit up on my bed, effectively ending my recall of a memory of my babyhood. The window I have left slightly open is letting a cold draft in. The howling of the strong winds outside wake me up completely now. Just when I am so close to falling asleep. Sighing, I pad toward the window and, just before I slam it shut, I survey the vast stretch of land that we call the Backyerds. Grey, cold, braving the strong gusts of the night winds.

Oddly, my spontaneous description of the Backyerds reminds me of myself.

Grey as the fur that grows in a thin tuft from the base of my neck all the way down to the tip of my tail. Cold as my stiff feet and chattering teeth. And braving the strong gusts of the night winds. Well, the windows are all closed now, so no more gusts. But I still do have to brave the sonorous snores of my Keykeeper seated on the floor by my door.

Heavy cotton-and-silk linens barely make a sound as I slide back into my bed. Then sleep comes over me just as a light drizzle falls and soon turns into sheets of rain that break the silence of the night.

-

-

Morning light comes through the window. Droplets of water adorn the stained glass, creating the illusion that a thousand glimmering diamonds have come to attach themselves to the panes overnight. I blink a few times and try to get the sleepy haze from my eyes. My ears twitch randomly on my head, taking in the sounds of the morning servants hustling away to prepare the castle for another day.

“Master Roff,” my Keykeeper mumbles in a tone so silent that I am sure he does not mean for me to hear it. “Master Roff, are you awake?” I simply turn to meet his gaze, then burrow deeper into my sheets and pretend to go back to sleep. He does not move from his post by my door. My ears do not pick up any movement from him. After a long while of nothing but dreary silence, I toss the sheets from my body and hop off my bed.

I proceed to get dressed for the day. My Keykeeper seems annoyed by this, but I only wave him off. I am not supposed to dress myself. It is a maid’s job. But I have been dressing myself since I learned how to tie knots to secure my cowleather boots to my feet, so I know what I am doing. I toss a tunic over my head and slither into my comfortable day pants, carefully threading my bushy grey tail through a hole at the rear. Next comes a heavy coat of layered cloths and furs. Then I don gloves that leave my fingers bare, and a wooly scarf. And finally, I kick into my cowleather boots and hastily tie them.

“The Queen will not be pleased that you dress like a beggar everyday, Master Roff,” says the Keykeeper. I do not bother to hide a hollow chuckle.

“The Queen is not my mother, Grall. I do not exist to please her. You know this as much as the next man does.”

This makes him cast his eyes to the ground in a rueful manner. I shake my head to brush his sentiments off. It is no secret. And how in the name of Eos could it be a secret? No matter how many features I share with my father, I am a bastard. My father is the King. My mother… she is simply a commoner from some far off territory I know nothing about. The Queen wants absolutely nothing to do with me, and so she spends her time doting on my older half-brother, the crowned prince. I push these thoughts away with some sort of vehement force and grab my well-worn rucksack.

“Keep watch of things, Grall. I won’t be back until late.” Not that there is a lot to keep watch of. Perhaps the only thing of value in my quarters is a slab of pure gold melted to form a running wolf. A gift from my father during his sober days.

“Master Roff, I can accompany you as a guard, if you wish. There are still some people who are... wary of your...” he gestures to all of me and I look at him with a puzzled expression. Then I catch on to what he means and I become somewhat annoyed.

“Let them come to do as they please. If that is needed to sate their curiosity, let them come. I am no longer the weak child that I was.”

Grall, my Keykeeper, grits his teeth at my answer. No doubt he remembers the first time my brother and I were told by the Queen to play outside the Kingdom walls, in the peasant town that grows like a mushroom infestation just outside the walls of the bountiful Kingdom Baltheros called the Outskirts. Within the hour, I was prostrate on the cobblestone streets of the Outskirts as some children and adults threw jagged rocks and poured boiling water on me. My brother was spared because he was purely Human. I, on the other hand, was seen as a monster. A Human with the ears and tail of a wolf.

“Grall,” I say, giving him a small grin and patting his heavily padded shoulder, “I have been going around the peasant town for years. Just because today is my birthday does not mean I will get into some sort of extraordinary accident.”