Return of the Stormcriers

CHAPTER 7 - PRINCE NATHAN

  Matt could hear his heart pounding in his ears with every step as he followed the captain toward the Prince's carriage. If the stories about High King Castius were true, how cruel would one of his sons be? His soldiers, besides the Captain, had not shown Matt any kindness. Would the prince be under the impression that he was a common thief? A criminal on the run? Had the captain been as thorough in his questioning of Anton before he had informed the Prince of Matt's presence as he had when he had come to retrieve him?

   The princes were not an oft-discussed subject around Clearfield, almost exclusively mentioned when angry common folk quietly cursed the High King and his whole family, wishing the most vile of ills to befall them. Very few stories of their deeds circulated around Matt as he had grown up and the only concrete information he knew about them was that there were two. Prince Alexander was the eldest, around twenty-five years of age, and if the stories were accurate, Prince Nathan, who was about five years younger than his brother. Their mother, the High Queen, had passed away when Matt was little; he remembered royal messengers announcing the news loudly in Clearfield, and the mandatory mourning period that followed. For a full week's time all the women wore black as if they had just lost their own husbands, while all the men dressed in their finest clothes as if they were going to the temple for a service. The royal messengers had stayed with the leadership of Clearfield to observe that the respects were paid, knowing full well the people would never do such acts without the threat of being labeled a traitor held against any who were not in full compliance. Much of the hatred in Clearfield towards the High King seemed to stem from that event, Matt recognized, the connection clear in retrospect.

   The Captain wrapped his knuckles loudly against the carriage door, returning Matt's thoughts to the present. He steeled himself for the worst in the awful silence that hung in the air between the knock and the answer.

   "Enter!" the clear voice of a young man called from inside. Seizing the golden handle, the captain pulled the door open and, with a gentle push on Matt's back with one of his large hands, prompted his prisoner ahead of him over the threshold and into the carriage.

  The inside of the carriage was well lit with thin, wax candles that sat in ornate golden sconces positioned on the walls in front of slender metal vents that allowed their smoke to escape without clouding the room in its fog. The floor was softly carpeted with short woolen rugs that matched the purple of the exterior fabric ornaments. A small cot was placed against the walls across from the door, covered with more than one disheveled woolen blanket. To Matt's left, at the far end of the enormous carriage, the prince sat in a high backed wooden chair that resembled a throne, as if the carriage were a mobile extension of the palace throne room. He appeared to be around the same age as Matt, with nary a hint of stubble on his fresh face. His deep brown eyes were serious and thoughtful, the look of a man clearly used to navigating issues that far outstripped his years, but they regarded the world with a clear spark of curiosity. Matt had expected the Prince to be wearing a crown of gold upon his brow, or at the very least, the fanciest of royal robes, but instead of fineries he wore unadorned trousers and a similarly plain off-white shirt. The clothes were clearly of a much higher quality make than Matt's own, but they were simple and in no way princely. If not for the pomp of his vehicle and the throne in which he sat, there would be nothing to distinguish the prince from any other young man in Verden.

"Greetings," the prince's voice was soft and measured, "I am Prince Nathan."

   Matt bowed low to the younger prince, very conscious of his form, as the captain pulled the door shut behind them, "I am Matthew." He cringed at the words as they left his mouth, but nothing better to say leapt to his tongue so he left it at that.

  "You may rise," the Prince commanded gently. "What is your family name Matthew?"

   Matt hesitated, he did not even know how to answer that question to himself anymore. He wished he knew who his birth parents were so he could honor their legacy but until he found out his real lineage, who from the sound of Vincent's tale were almost certainly dead, he owed it to the family who raised him to keep their name alive.