The Prime Minister

“Look at that wall!” Osric exclaims, sticking his head out of the carriage, eyeing the imposing stone-walled town he is approaching.

The toes of his boots dig into the red upholstered seat. He stretches his short body to reach the window, his fingers smudging the gold-laced window frame.

Across from Osric sits a man with thick, long blonde hair — almost yellow — and a deep red overcoat. He watches with concern as Osric teeters over the edge. In a flash, silky white gloves grip his sides, and the man pulls Osric back into the carriage.

“Thanks man, I might’ve been goner,” Osric says, relieved.

Osric reaches into a large leather sack hanging from his belt and pulls out a gold coin, handing it to the man.

“Here, a little gift for saving me, mister... What was your name again?”

“Harold,” the man replies.

Osric thrusts the gold coin at him.

“I really don’t need your money, it's quite alright,” Harold asserts as he pushes Osric’s hand away.

“Your loss, I guess.” Osric shrugs.

The carriage is stopped. Osric leans out the window again. Two armored knights stand guard at the gate. They approach the driver to say something — Harold swings open the door of the carriage and faces the guards. The two knights drop to one knee upon seeing him.

“Your excellency sir, please go right on ahead,” the guards say in unison.

Harold waves at the two while closing the carriage door.

Osric swallows nervously. I didn’t need to be a history major to know that a reaction like that means this guy is someone important. He's not the king — no crown, also no guards. But he might be royalty. If I ask who he is, could I get in trouble?

The carriage starts moving again, the two sit across from each other in silence.

“So, who are you exactly?” Osric hesitantly asks, breaking that silence.

“Oh, just the Prime Minister.”

The Prime Minister? Osric stares, unblinking, at the man across from him, thinking of what to ask next.

“Uh... what is the Prime Minister doing picking up a boy off the side of the road?”

“Let me ask you this first.” Harold leans in, placing his white gloves on his brown trousers.

“Rumor has it that outside Lumora, in the small village of Sunvale, a baby was born with bright red eyes.” Harold leans in even closer to Osric. His blue eyes seem to stare into Osric's soul.

“Have you heard anything about that?” Harold urges.

Osric backs away. Is he saying I’m in trouble for not presenting myself to the King? How did the Prime Minister, of all people, find this out? Catalina did a good job of keeping me a secret. The only people who have gotten a good look at my face in the village are that little kid John and the priest.

And it's not like we had planned to keep this a secret from the Kingdom. Catalina, just wanted to wait until I was closer to ten — I might be in trouble.

“Look... I wasn’t going to keep myself hidden — uh, as the Grand Sage, I needed time—”

“I’m not meeting you officially today,” Harold cuts Osric off. Tapping him on the shoulder as his expression softens.

“I just happen to have some business in Lumora and figured I’d meet this promised child. It must have been fate that we saw you on the roadside looking for a ride.”

The concern fades from Osric’s face. I guess I’m not in trouble... But how does the Prime Minister know about all this?

The carriage stops once again.

“This is my stop, promised boy. Time for you to get out.” Harold steps out of the carriage.

“Hey, I thought you were going to take me to Aurelith!” Osric whines.

“I never agreed to that. Surely you can find someone to take you there in Lumora.” Harold gestures for Osric to step out as well.

Osric, now out of the carriage, looks up at the towering cathedral they've stopped at.

The cathedral, so grand it makes the church in Osric’s village look pathetic, has two lofty steeples made not of the familiar stone brick but a more lustrous granite. The steeples both sport the same golden statue of a staff at their crest. In the middle of the two steeples is a grandiose stained-glass window. The window tells a story — a black, robed figure stands ready to face the giant man before him. A monster of a man towers over the robed figure. His skin is red, and goat horns protrude from his head, the horns curling and coming to a point near his ears. His goat-like leg is raised above the robed figure's head, ready to stomp. The robed figure points his staff toward the monster, unintimidated.

Osric stares up at the stained-glass. Wow, I thought the church in my village was impressive, but look at this — people here really take religion seriously, huh — I’m guessing this window shows the Grand Sage facing down the Demon Lord like in the legend. Hopefully I don’t have to do anything like that.

Harold stops at the church’s doorway, turning to wave at Osric before he heads in.

“The next time we meet, it will be official. I do hope it is as amusing, promised boy.” Harold walks into the cathedral.

With a furrowed brow, Osric watches him walk through the doorway. Why does he keep calling "promised boy"? Weirdo. He sticks his tongue out at him.

Walking past the carriage, Osric stops as he is about to pass the horses. With an air of confidence, he turns around and approaches the wolf beastkin sitting at the front of the red and gold carriage.

Osric looks up and down his ragged attire before deciding to reach into the leather sack at his waist. He holds a cold coin up to the driver with two fingers.

“Here, for your troubles,” Osric deepens his voice like he had before.

The beastkin stares off into the distance as if Osric isn’t there.

“I said here!” Osric grabs the beastkin’s hand, unfurling his paw-like fingers and placing the gold coin inside.

“For your troubles,” he repeats.

The beastkin man opens his mouth to speak.

Osric shakes his head in refusal. “No need.”

Osric turns and walks off, shooting the man a wave without turning around.

Osric stifles a satisfied giggle as he walks off. I’m getting good at this mysterious and benevolent persona! I bet the Grand Sage did stuff just like that!

>>>

Osric’s head is on a swivel as he embarks down a city street. So this is Angus’ town, Lumora — It's huge — more like a city. No wonder Angus kept giving me all those expensive gifts.

The streets of Lumora are bustling with people and business. Osric looks at the half-timbered buildings on either side of the road, much taller than the ones in his village. Most have three and four floors. Some have restaurants or stores on the first floor. The wooden frames are painted red, white, or black, not just the wood brown he’d known. Small shops line the edge of the street, with small roofs overtop of merchants pointing at baskets of fruit or tables displaying shining metal weapons. Other merchants, with nothing but a cloth on the ground to display their merchandise, holler at passersby trying to make a sale.

The townsfolk bump into the small Osric as he tries to make his way down the crowded cobblestone road.

“Mages of Lumora, the academy and the church have been lying to you!”

While fighting through the crowd, Osric becomes intrigued by an out-of-place robed man shouting at the side of the street.

“Magic is so much more than what you learn at the academy. I am proof — once a court mage here, I was bewildered by how unsophisticated our magic was compared to Aurelith. I was sent there to guard a diplomat, but could not bring myself to leave without learning their sorcery. I resolved myself to forsake my position in the castle and learn of the magic in Aurelith.”

Osric pushes his way across the street to join the small crowd forming around the shouting man. The man wears blue robes, his hood covering his face, only his white bearded chin is visible. He picks up a bucket of water. Osric takes note of the insignia on his robes as he bends over to place the bucket. A golden shield-shaped insignia with a silver scale in front rests on the chest of his blue robes.

“Let me demonstrate a simple spell Aurelith students learn,” the man says as he picks up a blue painted staff with a purple gem on the end.

Chanting something unintelligible to Osric, the gem on the  staff glows purple. A ball of water floats out of the bucket, stretching into an oval. Four stubs form along the bottom, followed by a longer fifth, jutting out the side. The orb freezes from the inside out. Details are etched onto the surface.

The man's chant finishes, and the now frozen sculpture falls back into the bucket of water. The man pulls it out — a miniature frozen sculpture of a horse sits in his hand, dripping with water.

An amused “oooh” ripples through the onlookers. Osric is similarly amused.

“I hope any mages here see the limits of your rudimentary magic and come seek knowledge in Aurelith,” the blue-robed man says, displaying the horse sculpture to the crowd.

What is this magic? Nowhere in my books does it say anything about manipulating and freezing water like this. How is this possible?

The small crowd's applauding is drowned out by the sound of clattering armor.

“Stop this blasphemy!”

The crowd looks down the street to see two knights sprinting towards them.

The robed man gets one look at the knights and bolts in the other direction. Dropping his frozen horse sculpture on the ground, it shatters into pieces.

“Someone stop that man! He is a heretic and an enemy of the Kingdom!” One of the knights proclaims as the two race past the small crowd.

With puzzling looks, the crowd silently observes the chase until it is out of view.

Osric shrugs, frowning. Why would magic this cool make you a heretic? Not like I know anything about the religion here.

He breaks away from the crowd and continues down the street. That was kinda weird — anyway, I gotta get back to my mission of purchasing my cat girl. Maybe I can look into that magic school as well — that is, if I can find someone to take me to Aurelith.