Stranger

“Who are you?!” the Matron demanded again.

Fulcher took a step back, fear flooding into his mind.
She knows? How? Is it that magic? Her eyes? How does she know I’m not the prince?

Fulcher’s hand shook, suddenly he felt like the stranger he truly was in this distant realm. Before he could act, two women ran into the room and to the Matron’s side. Each wore the same pale blue robes Fulcher had seen the healers wear when he had first arrived.

“Matron Mother, we heard shouting, what is wrong?” one said, grabbing the Matron’s arm gently.

“This is not the Prince! It is… an imposter! A daemon! Some vile imposter!” The Matron wheezed, clutching the women to prevent herself from falling. Each of the two attendants peered at Fulcher nervously, one smiling gently.

“Our apologies Prince, she must be tired. We will return her to the Yard,” she said, trying to aim the Matron towards the door. “Come Matron Mother, the meeting is over.”

Practically dragged by the pair, the Matron cast hostile eyes back to Fulcher.

“I am not out of my senses! I will know what you are, faker!” the Matron hissed as she was pulled from the room.

Fulcher swayed gently before falling into the nearest chair. Arrow huffed as he approached, resting his muzzle on Fulcher’s lap.

I need to be careful around these magical people. If they find out I’m not the Prince who knows what they will do.

A noise from behind drew Fulcher’s attention. On edge, he spun in his seat to look around the hall. The fleeting visual of a fleeing foot escaping out the window was all that he found. Somebody else had been in the room; for how long, Fulcher was not sure. Regardless, they had surely seen the intensity of the moment between him and the Matron Mother.

The air in the room felt heavy and foreign. Fulcher stood as his breathing quickened, tugging Arrow’s fur for a moment before walking quickly from the great hall. The wolf kept pace, claws tip-tapping against the floor as he followed.

Fulcher proceeded to the doors that lead out of the keep, offering nothing more than a wave to the attendants that tried to speak with him. He needed air, the grand walls now feeling hostile. Each tapestry he passed now felt like a set of eyes upon him as if all knew his secret. The doors creaked open with his approach, worried servants pulling at the handles before he could even arrive at them. He broke into a jog, leaving the keep with hurried breaths. It was no time at all before he was beyond the courtyard and gate, entering the bustling town just outside. He took a deep breath in before coughing it back out again. His senses were assaulted with the town's aromas, of livestock and work horses, of excrement and cooked meats from a nearby inn. So much more, all blended into a shocking smog of scents that Fulcher had not expected. He had not smelled any of this upon his initial entry into the town, but perhaps the wind had simply shifted against his favor.

Next came the noises of the residents. Yelling and bartering clashed against the neighs and moos of domesticated animals. Distant anvil strikes juxtaposed against the clash of training soldiers. Before he even had a moment to plan out an escape, a man rushed from the keep to stand beside him. His armor clattered and clanked with each step, and he clutched a spear with a grip that made Fulcher believe he had likely dropped it many times before.

“Back so soon and out again, Sir!” he huffed, standing at shaky attention. It was clear the armor was tossed on in haste, a few clasps undone and the helmet obviously from a completely different set.

“Who are you?” Fulcher asked, already regretting such a ridiculous question. The Prince would know his men, and he would need to be more careful in the future.

“Princeguard Vardia of the Custodi!” he slammed the spear’s butt into the mud beside them, splattering his boot. “Your Father gifted you my servitude two weeks ago for your nineteenth year, Sir!”

Oh. So he’s new. Fulcher thought. Can’t hurt to have someone like him to keep me safe.

“Very well, Vardia. I need some time away from the keep. Accompany me and Arrow in the town,” he said, eyeing the Princeguard.

“Yes Sir!” Vardia shouted. “I will be your shield!”

Mocking chuckles from the nearby gate guards caught Fulcher’s ear as he himself rolled his eyes.

“Yeah yeah, just, quietly,” Fulcher said, motioning for him to follow.