Dawn met the marketplace in a splay of bright lights and people. People most of which expected nothing more than another average day in the capitol. The quiet morning, the hustle of noon and another day awaiting to be born, when the streets emptied and the taverns filled. Though what they got was not average at all.

The trot of hooves met the chatter of town folk. Most people if not all stopped to glare at the encroaching carriage, a royal carriage. A carriage with an emerald cover and gold filigrees. Though the day was sunny, the faces of those who the carriage were not bright at all. They still cleared the way for the carriage, as was expected, but their heavy eyes all but spoke for them. They were angry, upset and on the brink of uproar.

Menska rested on his elbow, viewing his citizens from the comfort of his carriage. Their unhappiness struck him harder.

The prince closed his eyes as the cart pushed further, “Is there no other way?” He said to another in his carriage.

“No not at all. Unless you desire the worst.”

Menska sighed glancing at his companion. “Jester, I know you mean well, but sometimes your advice lacks options.”

“My prince. I am not an adviser, though if I were I’d advise you that you have no options. We have already shown great respect by visiting the princess upon arrival. Lest you ruin that by rejecting her then.” The jester then reached in his pocket and withdrew a coin. With a ring of his hat bells, he flipped the coin and caught it. “As a jester however, I say you have two options.”

“What say you?”

The jester pouted, “Marry the princess, kill her and blame it on her steward. Or kill the princess, marry her, and say the steward made you do it.”

“Surely you jest.” Laughed the prince.

“I am a jester, that is all I do.”

The carriage swung forward and came to a halt. The silence of the marketplace was soon replaced by the screaming of gulls.

“We’re here.” yawned the jester. With the jingle of bells he awkwardly stretched past the prince, opening the side door a moment later.

Menska shielded his eyes against the light and the jester pranced past him to open the gate.

He bowed as he held the door open. “Bless the ground with your royal feet, oh prince without coins.”

Menska made his way past the jester, “Jester, they do not need to know that.” He warned.

“And yet they already do.”

Menska shook his head and surveyed the ship. A galleon which appeared to block out the sun. A majestic prow with robust sails. Gold lining along its dark wood hull. A masterpiece in the eyes of any shipwright. A ship no doubt from Ilivari nobility.

Menska stepped past the growing crowd of fisherman, his gaze fixated on what was ahead of him. He knew the basics. How to greet consorts, the manners, the formalities. This was a special consort. To establish ties between the Ilivari empire and his own would be monumental. Not only would it save his treasuries it would also raise his reputation.

Menska passed fisherman by fisherman. Each man aware of their own formalities, holding hats if they had one against their chests. Heads bowed low.

Menska glanced at them when he could. Sparing only quick glances for he knew what expressions those bowed heads held. At one point the line of fishermen diminished and gaps appeared between their ranks. Menska eyed one opening. Another ship just beyond the horizon. He considered it. Slick, Ilivari, sails rolled. Wind brushed past the prince and the waves crashed below him.

He passed another fisherman then another gap. He saw the ship once more. Black sails unfurled. Menska froze. Blinking once, the ship was gone. He shook his head.

“My prince?” Jingled the jester, “What is the matter?”

“Nothing.” The prince kept his eyes on the sea, “I thought I saw a ship with black sails. Just before the horizon.”

“Pirates.” Hushed a voice among the crowd.

The prince tried to match a face with that voice and realized he was not the only one staring at the sea. All around him people searched, curious by the notion of such an oddity. A pirate ship this close to Ilivari royalty was unheard of. It was well known that the Ilivari owned the seas, even proximity to their royal ships meant inspection and immediate sentence. Often execution.

“You must be nervous my Prince, seeing ghosts I imagine.” Started the jester, “Come, the princess awaits.”

Menska store at the sea a little longer. It was not his imagination, not a ghost nor a mirage. What he saw was a phantom ship, one he heard of many times before. A ship as fast as the seven winds. One of legend and impossible odds.

He shook his head and continued walking. The many fishermen still searching the sea. A little further ahead he saw the plank of the royal ship. A tall figure crept out and next to it a woman. The tall figure seemed to be man or a woman. It was hard to tell. Regardless the princess looked short in comparison to it and had curled black hair, but so much so that it covered her face.

He walked a little closer, his steps hollow thumps against the planks. His colors of white, gold and green, a strange intrusion into the collection of red and gold which awaited him. A line of Ilivari guardsmen saluted and stepped to the side almost mechanically. Menska glanced at their blades as he passed them. Curved. The Ilivari were known to use curved blades.

He thought of Ersel as he approached the princess. For some reason he felt he needed to.

He bowed, she curtsied. Formalities. He reached for her hand, but she pulled it back. Menska gazed at her, taken aback. At first by her action then her beauty. Her hair draped over her caramel skin and swept passed a button nose. She had surprisingly light skin for an Ilivari.

An image of Ersel quickly shot through his mind, and he returned to his senses.

“My lady” he started. Holding his hand out.

“Your sword.” She edged motioning with her head.

Menska store on, dumbfounded. “My lady?”

Without warning the princess reached and unsheathed Menska’s sword.

Menska had no response, but she was quick to explain, “In my country consorts greet each other with the removal of their sword. It’s a customary sign that we are not enemies.”

Menska blinked and glanced back at the jester. The jester met his palm and shook his head.

“Now you did come to greet me.” She continued, “That warrants some forgiveness I suppose.”

For a moment Menska forgot the formailities. Though this time on purpose. He extended his hand, “It is a pleasure to meet you princess Alya.” The guards, the jester, even her shrouded escort seemed astounded.

Alya laughed once and shook his hand “And a pleasure to meet you as well, prince Menska.”

“Come let me show you the palace.” Motioned Menska.

Alya nodded and followed the prince as he made his way back.

The jester and the escort walked behind the two. With a hushed voice the jester tilted his head at the escort and whispered, “This is better than the last time. Better than most times really.”

The escort nodded and company continued off the docks. All the while the jester eyed the escort curiously.

At the carriage Menska gestured to the other carriages. “Jester, you and the other royal guests may take the other carriages, I wish to be alone with the princess.”

The jester nodded, but the escort stepped forward. Eyes narrowed on its broad genderless face, and it hand quick to is sword. Ayla rose her hand, “It’s ok” she said. The escort stepped back and Menska supported the princess onto the carriage, following her soon after.

Seconds later the door close and Menska stared at the princess. He had something to say. Something he had to let her know, “I love someone else.” He said abruptly, “I’m sorry, you are beautiful, but I cannot marry you.”

Silence and she started to laugh, “So the rumors are true!”

“That I refuse to marry?”

“That you’re an idiot!” she chuckled.

Menska leaned in his seat across from Alya, “I assume I had that coming.”

She smiled at Menska, “Do you think I wanted to marry you? All the lands in all the seas know that your pockets run dry. With connections to my family, however, you can repay you debts. In return, you become our formal ally. Don’t you see? It has nothing to do with what we want. It is a necessity for our two kingdoms to thrive.”

Menska stared at her, sitting up, his face spoke for him. He did not seem convinced, “An alliance with my country would not offer much. What do you really hope to gain?”

Alya sighed. The wheels rattled beneath their carriage and beams of light spat through the window every so often. After seconds of silence, she spoke up, “Reputation. Years ago my brother abandoned our royal heritage and set to the seas as a pirate. Of course we tried to catch him, though when we could not we tried to erase any record of him. That said he had made quite the name for himself.” She leaned forwards, “Few countries know nothing of him. Yours is one. On top of that, marrying a family as old as yours will speak to the rest of our empire. It will remind them that we still value tradition.”

“You seem convinced about this.” Edged Menska.

“And you’re not?” She chortled “Whether you like it or not, you need this to, Golgoth.” She eyed the window, “And you are not the only one.”

Menska’s eyes fell on the window, carefully studying the people as they whizzed by. It was hard to see anything outside the growing crowd. He looked harder. Past the merchant happily selling goods, past the sailor freshly home from the sea, and past the mother carrying two laughing children. Finally, he saw the back of the crowd, that was where they lurked. Vagabonds, street rats and closed stalls. Children stood in ragged clothes, while men and women fought over scraps. The homeless and destitute. He had not seen so many before.

He fell back in his seat and his head flung back. The palace had been his sanctuary as well as his blind fold. His people had become no more than fairies, as formless as the wind.

He kept his head held back, “Do you always get what you want?”

The princess laughed, “Usually.”