The deeper the Prince and his steed went into the woods the more unfamiliar his surroundings became. He came prepared; a small machete in hand to wick away any brush obstructions. He put his helmet on midway when he noticed the horse waver from a steady speed, the reason slapping him across the face - quite literally - thick leafy vines webbing a vague swirling trail, snapping back without remorse. Thankfully they weren't thorned, or else the Prince's innocent baby face would resemble that of a nomadic psychopath to whomever he ran across.
Back at the Kingdom's edge he was reminded of when he and Thomas would run off on adventures through the woodline. As a child it felt much larger and grander than in reality where it was only, at best, a mile of ground coverage. Memories of exploring the creek he'd hurdled over a bit ago, capturing lizards and frogs and attempting to raise them, falling and scraping a rock that left a lasting scar on his elbow, all poured into his mind. He even passed by one of their old forts made from shards of a fallen tree. The still standing image brought a grin to the Prince's cheeks, how could it withstand the better part of a decade of weathering with the constructional foundation of 6 year olds? Who can tell.
A few small game scurried around Daisy's walking hooves, nothing more than a rabbit or a squirrel. These were definitely hunting grounds. Perfect cubbies for people to perch high in trees and wait for possibly hours at a time were everywhere - Mark recognized this because he spent a bit of time hunting as an adolescent. It'd been years since he'd killed a deer and brought it back to the castle for a roast supper. In the shadows, a slight nudge that someone was watching him trek through the forest kept him on edge in the same way as hunting. It made him watch around, he hoped no one would get trigger happy and strike him or the horse with a crossbow.
The Prince of Ohiland was a humble one, but these new feelings of extra edge and defensiveness opened his eyes, forcing him to notice the hedge of comfort he constantly had supporting his weight. A posh security that he involuntarily took for granted as royalty.
With more distance walked, the woods seemed to open its arms and grow wider. Random intricate designs of sunlight passed through branches above and casted shadows of art on the forest floor. Mark slowed his horse and looked around for a moment, absorbing the air. He smiled. A peek into what looked like small wooden buildings or houses ahead drew him in closer, with caution of course.
He was portraying a complete stranger after all.
Gently, he guided Daisy out of the forest completely and kept his armored head somewhat low to avoid any immediate suspicion. He squinted his eyes at the sudden burst of pure unclouded light as they focused on this community he was now in. His first thoughts went to how different things looked initially; teenagers hauled lumber behind shacks, shepherds herded livestock in the distance with the bellows of sheep and cows as background noise, and children playfully chased each other around. People were dressed in clothing of even less value than his own attire, mostly of tattered homemade looking shirts and trousers.
This wasn't exactly what the Prince expected. He knew the people were poor, his mother and father always lended their hand to those less fortunate. But he had never seen the life they lived.
He quickly scanned the area in a tizzy when the obvious realization he needed somewhere casual to hold his horse kicked in since, it would be illogical to trot around the town on a big golden steed. No one else was doing this and his current goal was to blend in. He'd been fighting the obligation to speak to anyone right away but now he had few options.
A few feet ahead was a young rustically dressed shepherd who carried himself up a hill, dragging his arm across his dirt dusted forehead with exhaustion. The hot sun seemed to beam directly down on the poor soul's tired red cheeks. He seemed like a safe option to Mark; the man was visibly unarmed and not of very large build. Mark steadily tried to lift the man's hanging head with his intensive gaze, never looking away as he swiftly hopped off his horse and guided her over. "Pardon me sir?" the Prince's announcing voice came out strong and defined against all other ongoing noises.
"Yes?" spoke the man, who turned out to be much younger than Mark had assumed with a childlike voice.
This made his majesty relax somewhat. "I'm very sorry to bother you, forgive me please, but is there anywhere nearby that I could keep my horse while I run some errands around town?" Shockingly, the thought flowed out effortlessly and required little thought to formulate a decent scenario. The boy scratched the back of his neck all the way up to the dusty blonde locks that lay in a straight line above his eyebrows.
He exhaled, "Uh...I could ask my father."
"Yes! T-thank you sir," Mark stuttered with an unexpected burst of excitement.
The boy then politely motioned for him to step away, as he continued up to a heavily used trail leading to a little cabin house. With every step the wooden porch groaned beneath his feet and the loose door creaked loudly when the boy entered his home, calling for his father. Mark's eyes thoughtlessly searched for something to fixate on as he waited patiently outside by his horse. He, without reason, found a pair of weathered twin rocking chairs that matched the cabin's exterior; they swayed freely in the mild breeze, this alone some how kept his curious mind at bay.
Looks like a war was lost, he thought to himself. He said this facetiously of course but he meant no disrespect or belittlement; to him, this is how he imagined a war zone looked. Deserted, rundown, dusty, and shells of what could be small but extravagant castles at every corner. A random and unexpected feeling crept up in his throat - sadness. Sadness knowing second hand what great success can truly become of such a life.
Muffled talking of a loudly spoken voice drawn with authority could be heard through the logs of the house. The pausing periods between the voice signaled the boy must've had to negotiate with his father. Mark cringed a bit, hoping he hadn't already caused any unnecessary tension since entering this new area. He lit up with nerves when the boy emerged from the house and approached him.
"Come along then," the blonde boy flicked his arm, motioning the Prince to follow him. "You can keep it in one of our pens but for no longer than an hour." Mark beamed with a distant relieved smile as he wrapped the chain holding Daisy's snout around his wrist loosely.
"Thank you, erm..?"
"Holton."
"Thank you Holton, very much. A-and be sure to thank your father for me as well, yes?"
He nodded shortly without looking back up again. With no shading of trees or balcony ledges at all, Mark now felt what he saw Holton walking through on his way up the hillside. The sun's heat was dreadful. He found his body condensating at the seams and unfortunately, he hadn't thought of how the clothes would feel after hanging in his closet for years without washing. Velvet never felt rough against his skin like his cowhide tunic did at the moment.
While following the boy and simultaneously guiding the golden steed gently behind, the Prince lay eyes on the endless rolling hills of bright green grass ahead of them, soon becoming lost in their curves. The rich farmland that sat behind such an anachronous township greatly surprised him. Just when things were already beautiful enough, pens of free roaming animals came into view just ahead of them. The residual smile on Mark renewed once again upon seeing such beauty.
It reminded him of home, a feeling that should've been comforting. But as the truth laying behind all of this persistently lingered in his mind, the thought of home made him feel negatively...he wasn't quite sure why. He could hear Thomas in his head picking at him playfully, you're becoming too comfortable as a peasant already. Keep at it and you may stay as one!
...Maybe he would.
He's abruptly broken from his thoughts by a nearby pubescent voice. "So, stranger. I told you my name. Do you plan on telling me yours?"
"Oh. Well, pardon me sir," he chuckled a bit at the boy's straightforward demeanor. "My name is Mar-- erm, Marcus. Yeah. But I go by Mark for short." The Prince had no knowing of whether these citizens knew of the Royals in Ohiland. It was likely safe to assume they knew some, and he didn't want to fully blow his cover as a disguised peasant.
Mark suddenly took time to stop in the middle of their trek down the curvy fields to bow and extend his hand to Holton. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." He expected reciprocation of his action, but instead was left standing there and got a puzzled expression in return.
"Erm..."
"Oh! Is that not customary here?" His person tightened up and he quickly snatched his hand back. Holton shook his head, his face frozen scrunched with confusion. The Prince slowly bounced up and down on his heels aching to break the thick wall of awkwardness.
They began walking once more, leaving Mark to stew with himself. He felt so embarrassed and foolish for doing such an obvious act.
"You're a bit weird Mark." said Holton without hesitation.
Again, the child's spunk made him internally chuckle even through his self-shaming. He liked the boy's attitude. So he decided to give it back.
"S'just a matter of having manners. You're familiar with being polite I assume."
"Well yes, but not to such a proper extreme."
The Prince nodded in approval. "Fair enough."
He hadn't even noticed they had arrived to the gate of a pen, with only one other horse grazing on a patch of sweet grass inside. As Mark looked on quite oblivious to everything else in the world, Holton reached over the top of the fence to unlatch it. Mark removed the chain lead from her face, taking a moment to place a kiss on her nose, and let Daisy inch her way inside upon seeing such a gorgeous open area for her to roam. The view was breathtaking - even for the horse.
It didn't take seconds before she leaned down, realized it was pure grasslands for an acre or more, before her hooves took off running into the nearby distance. The Prince was relieved that he found somewhere secure to keep her while he would explore the town.
"Holton, what do you call this place?" He asks.
Holton locked the gate back thoroughly and relaxed against it, dipping his head back for mercy from the sun. "A horse pen."
"I mean the town." Mark retorted looking directly into his blue eyes. The amused grin on his face stretched wider whenever the boy spoke.
He tilted his head while scanning Mark up and down, "Either you're a foreigner, or you're simply a nitwit. But you don't seem stupid." Mark was now fully laughing instead of a restrained low-throated chuckle. "It's called Corinthia. You know, like the good book says? We who live here are called, Corinthians; it rhymes with Indians-"
"Alright alright I get it." The boy kept the Prince rolling in his humor. "You're quite the young man, aren't you?"
This left Holton speechless, or somewhat dumbfounded. He didn't have a witty comment by simply shrugging off the question and looking at the ground casually.
The sky's clock said it was only nearing noon at latest, giving Mark plenty of time to accomplish what he came for. Which was...to find a wife. He hadn't put much thought at all on that note of things until now. The fact that the entire reason he's arrived to this whistle-stop was to essentially look for a lady to marry and become Queen of Ohiland. ...Putting everything into perspective he found was not fun; it was quite intimidating, actually.
A tired sigh broke the mutual thought-filled silence from beside him. "Well Marcus, if that is your real name...I have to be returning to my duties. Be back no later than an hour to retrieve your steed, or it'll be my hide that gets skinned." Holton looked into the Prince's eyes with a cold seriousness he'd yet seen in full from the boy. It froze him in his footprints, leaving him to nod in response. "Do you recall the way back or shall I lead you up there once more?" His look softened a bit.
"I think I can make it. Thank you so much, Holton. Oh! Here," Mark exclaimed, patting his pockets down and pulling out a fresh, glistening gold coin from the small stash he'd brought with him. "take this. As a proper thank you, even if it's a bit uncustomary around here." He smiled warmly with a wink and extended his hand.
The boy's eyes grew at least two centimeters before he snatched the coin from Mark's fingertips, stuffing it in his own pocket. "Uncustomary?! If my father saw this thing in my hands he'd take it so fast and buy a dozen stables with two dozen steeds! Psh, uncustomary. This is a small fortune Mister!" Mark by nature found this reaction humorous while still realizing that just a small piece of money to him, is so grand and large to this young man. That was a lot to take in, and laughing about it was a slight coping mechanism by habit.
He placed his hand firmly on Holton's shoulder and looked him in the face as wonder and amazement swirled his piercing eyes, "Don't lose it then. Keep it, save it for as long as you need, and do something good with it."
He nodded furiously, closing his open jaw to swallow a lump.
The Prince and the shepherd parted ways as one travelled back up the hill to the town, and the other headed further down to a chicken coop. So far, Corintha had welcomed his majesty with a distinct attitude. He liked it. He wanted to know more about life outside the grand Kingdom. And not to be uncultured, but he also wanted to know more about women outside the Kingdom as well - only in the back of his mind, of course.
Okay y'all. I'm really enjoying writing this series, but I have lots of long ideas for it. So I want to get some feedback; should I make this its own book? I'd really love to, and I don't want to flood this book with endless continuances of the same series. COMMENT!