Foxfire (The Blood Oath) old version

Chapter 5: Of Men Without Eyes

"Come all, come all, come and witness."

A wayseller -as hawkers were called- walked to the centre of the town's square, beating his gong. Drake observed carefully from the window of a carriage that always took him to school and brought him back home. Few in Shearmark could afford such, "the offspring of a Duke must never walk the rugged earth like ordinary folks," his father had said. Other boys loathed him for the many services that had made his life simple, though Drake did not see it that way.

The grey haired man continued to beat his gong.

"Ever heard of the scroll of Thaumaturgy? Buy and learn the secret of Levitation. Want to know the location of Annwyn's staff of Protection? Buy my maps and you shall find treasures beyond your imagination."

Drake scoffed.

"Come all, come all. Ever seen the secret scroll of Lothar, Patron of Destruction? Ever touched the amulet that binds the soul of Vvenom, the dark patron?"

Drake pulled away from the window. Now, he knew the man was a fraud, scroll of Lothar? What then did he use to learn the secret of fire?

"Do not mind them Master Drake," Old Alfred said.

Drake held tight to the neck of his jacket and buttoned it properly. His hands were shaking. He was nervous. Today, the carriage was not taking him to school. Drake glanced at the invitation scroll marked with the seal of the Duke, his father. He has not seen the Royal palace since he was ten years old, or has he seen his brothers, Prince Philip, William, and Edward.

He remembered them just like it was only yesterday that they bullied him. The boys were mean as the stones that rumbled his carriage and he bore little love for them, well, all of them except the eldest Philip. He was as pious as a priest and did not even possess a single bone for violence in his body.

"Why do you think he wants to see me?" Drake asked nervously.

Alfred's blank expression did not help his anxiety. It was like the old man's smile had taken a day off. Drake could see that he too was troubled. He did not exactly part from the Royal Palace in good terms.

"Perhaps he wants to see his son," Alfred'sreply was dry.

Drake asked no more and went back to the window. Outside, he caught a glimpse of a familiar girl standing at the foot of a tree.

"Stop! Stop!" Drake ordered his Coachman.

He opened the door and stepped down hurriedly. "Elizabeth," he cried, waving his hands at the girl.

She looked different than the last time he saw her. Well kempt if he must say. The girl tucked a strand of her dark her behind her ear as he stood before her.

"Fancy seeing you here," she said.

"Don't want to seem like a stalker but I never thought I would see you again after the other . . . day," Drake glanced shyly at his feet.

"Um, we go to the same school, you know that, right? Apparently, you rich kids don't seem to be concerned with any other thing but your fancy carriages and expensive jackets."

"Come on," Drake shrugged his shoulders, "I'm not like those guys."

"No you are not," she replied, "you are just the one who gets beat up all the time despite who you are."

"Who I am?"

"A Prince of Dale, you could very well become the Duke one day," she smiled and picked out a strand of hay off his jacket.