Her feet pounded against the cobblestones that paved the narrow alleyways of Bowerstone. Her breathing became even more shallow as she quickly turned into a small gap in between two tall houses. She tried to hold her breath as four guards ran past, shouting about where she could have gone. The fifth hesitated beside her hideout, leaning over to catch his breath. She reached out and pulled him into the gap by his collar. He opened his mouth to shout but she pulled out a small knife and held it to his pale throat. "Don't say a word. Give me your uniform and you'll be unscathed."
"They'll never believe a woman is a guard," the man hissed as he handed her his coat.
"Thank you for the insight, but I really have it all planned out. You must be a newbie, hm? I, a woman, just ran from five guards and conned one into giving me his uniform. Dare you speak ill of me again? I think not. What makes you think that, even for a moment, I didn't have this entire thing planned out? Face it; a woman is just as, if not clearly more, intelligent than you are. Now, if you go down the alley, there is a sack of clothes that should fit you. Go find it and return to your fellow employees with what little dignity you have," she smirked.
She took off in her new attire, headed for the castle that loomed over the town.
The castle grounds were generally open to the public during the day. Since the new King had taken throne, there had been many changes to the castle's exterior, like the replacement of the few graves, the closing of the dig site, and the construction of a new entrance quarters complete with beautiful plants and statues. There was also a new garden in the back that overlooked most of Bowerstone, which was in middle of getting its first every industrial plant. Many things were changing for the better, it seemed, thanks to the peace reached twenty-three years ago.
On most days the castle grounds were packed with citizens trying to meet the Hero King to see if he would bless them or tell them their futures, not that he had the powers to do either. He was rather just a very kind, intelligent, and powerful man. He had mastered Will, Skill, and Strength as all of the other Heroes in his magical bloodline had before him. Though most knew of his tragic past and loss of his beautiful wife, not many knew if his son had the remarkable powers he posessed. Information like that would earn someone quite a bit of gold. And that was exactly what the street vagrant, the one in the otherwise borrowed uniform, Hera was seeking out.
She held her breath as she entered the marvelous castle, hoping the tight bandages that concealed her bosom would help convince the other guards that she was not an imposter. She kept her head low to hide her thick lashes and full lips, sure signs of her womanhood. Not a single man turned their attention toward her as she walked casually through the entrance hall, up the grand staircase, and past the throne room. She wanted to stop and stare at the unique and beautiful features that lingered in every inch of the castle but knew she had to remain true to her task; find the prince.
As an orphan Hera never had much; just herself. She never knew her parents and never had the desire to. She fought for herself, hunted for herself, and earned for herself. She was her most important person, her number one priority, and her only friend. When she finally made her way to Bowerstone, the heart of the kingdom of Albion, she was fifteen and turned from hunting to stealing. It was quite simple to either get a fruit vendor to give her an apple or either steal it when they weren't looking. Occasionally people would toss her gold pieces when she sat in the shadows or when she looked over the bridge, but not often did people give to a homeless girl. There were many an offer for her to put her beautiful looks into a more sinful profession which, albiet would help earn more gold, would also put her life in danger, and as pitiful as she found it sometimes, she quite liked to live the way she did. She enjoyed picking locks when families weren't home and using their baths, enjoyed stealing clothing from the tailor at night, and took pleasure in conning lonely men into buying her a pint of ale. She had been in Bowerstone for two years by now and had no desire to ever leave this life.
"You, guard!" A tall man barked at her. It took her a moment to realize she was being spoken to. "Er, sorry to startle you. The prince would like your help in the training room. It seems the new trainer, Walter Beck, has not shown up...again. Do you mind?"
Hera shook her head and set off toward the direction the tiny man pointed in. She found a room full of amazing swords and beautiful guns and settled inside. Her stomach blossomed with nerves as she realized an incredibly handsome young man was standing in middle of the room with a sword pointed to the ground.
"Ah, 'ello!" He greeted her with a dazzling smile. "Sorry to call you in on such notice...I would hate to miss a lesson, I'm sure you understand. Come on, pick a sword! I'll go easy on you."
Hera gulped and grabbed a sword from the wall. It was jewel incrusted and extremely heavy at first, but as she tightened her hand around it, it evened itself out nicely. She had never really used a sword except for a few occassions, but it felt somewhat natural. She was more familiar and skilled with a gun, but it didn't matter as the prince swung his blade toward her. She jumped back and countered delicately. Her sword sliced through the air with such precision the prince looked shocked. He countered and toyed with her, making them dance around the room, blades clattering and grunts echoing off the walls. After a while Hera found herself panting. The prince took the moment of weakness and pinned her against the door.
"Who are you?" He whispered. He was much taller than her with piercing blue eyes that sparkled like the Bower Lake in the summer.
"A guard," Hera said in a low voice. "Just a guard."
"You're lying," the prince hissed. "You're not a guard. Tell me who you are and I won't tell a soul."
Hera considered him for a moment. The prince reached up and pulled the hat from her head. Her brown hair fell in cascades around her shoulders and down in front of her face. She held her breath as he pushed it back. "A woman," he mumbled. "Impressive."
"I am so sick of hearing that today, you know?" Hera grunted as she pulled a gun off the wall quietly. She stared up into his eyes, hoping to be distracting him as she checked the revolver for bullets.
"I almost wouldn't have known...but I have a keen sense for these things. I suppose you have bandages binding you in tightly, hm?" He asked. His eyes darkened slightly as his black hair fell in front of his forehead gently. "Must be hard to breathe."
"Not really," Hera said with a smirk. She pulled the gun from behind her back and held it against his side. "You best move."
The prince laughed. "You're going to shoot me?"
"Do you doubt it?"
"Of course I doubt that a girl will shoot me," he shook his head and stepped away, his hands in the air and a mocking look on his face.
Hera grimaced and stepped toward the window with the gun still in her hand. She swung the pistol back and broke the window. It shattered to the ground and fragments fell into her hair. The prince watched her carefully, like he was unsure what she quite was.
"That's a rough drop. You won't live. You could have gone if you would have just not grabbed the gun," he said, still looking at her oddly. "I can get you out of here still...just put the gun down."
The doors burst open and guards looked around to see what the noise had been. "It's her! The girl from the alley! Get her!"
"Nice meeting you, Prince of Albion!" Hera squeaked as she dove out of the window. She rolled into the ball and hit a bush rather difficultly. She hid in the greenery as the guards screamed out of the window, debating whether or not to go and find her. She took off as the coast was clear, her new gun in hand, but no answers. She only had two things on her mind; the boy's smile and a cold pint of ale.
