A Royal Ruse

Chapter 2

Trouble At The Marketplace

"Magness!" Princess Zita bounded towards the matronly merchant whose shop was always the first on her agenda whenever she visited the Arnoan Marketplace. The dressmaker's shop was a buffet of vibrant textiles bursting with the same haphazard flair that its owner possessed.

"My dear! It's been too long!" The seamstress' meaty arms engulfed the young royal in an eager embrace that momentarily cut off the princess's air supply. Zita melted into the smothering hug, happy to forgo the oxygen.

Magness abruptly released her stout grip on the princess and grabbed her hand. "I have a special treat for you. Follow me." Zita was yanked from the bustling walkway of the marketplace into the belly of the fabric-strewn emporium.

"Your visits always catch me off-guard," The seamstress sounded frazzled as she guided Zita towards the back of her shop where she always hid her most impressive creations.

The merchant instructed the Princess to stay put while she ducked behind a curtain, which allowed Zita's to properly feast on the garments splayed out around her. In a matter of seconds, Magness emerged from behind the curtain carrying the Princess's surprise.

Princess Zita gasped. She covered her mouth in shock at the dazzling creation before her. The seamstress held up the most breathtaking dress; spun velvet adorned with sapphire and gold.

"You've outdone yourself, Magness," the Princess said breathlessly as her eyes continued to glide over the luxurious creation with its glistening golden accents, "I don't even know what to say."

"The most beautiful girl deserves to be in the most beautiful dress. I've been working on it for months now." The seamstress cooed proudly.

"This dress is far too grand for me to wear. This dress is worthy of a queen, not some pipsqueak of a princess."

Zita tore her gaze away from the dress. Her eyes drifted to a beautiful albeit far less impressive silver gown, "What about this one?"

Magness's round face fell, "Your Highness..." The seamstress trailed off, trouble stirring behind her eyes, as she laid the dress down carefully on a nearby stool.

"Do you really think we see you as a pipsqueak of a princess? The knowledge that you will one day rule as queen is the only hope Arnoa has to cling onto." Magness whispered, clutching the princess's hands.

"You are our Cloaked Princess," she gently tugged at the hood of Zita's cloak. She used it to anonymously zip through the marketplace, mainly to hide from the royal guard than from the commoners.

"You have to hide now but one day you will liberate yourself, and us along with you."

Zita felt the all-too-familiar sting of tears well up in her eyes. Unable to hold them back anymore they began to leisurely roll down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away, surprised there was still a well to draw from after the previous night. The fact that her people longed for her to rule as much as she longed to rule them was all Princess Zita needed to hear for her heart to explode with pure joy. She leaped and threw her arms around a taken-aback tailor.

"Thank you, Magness." She reached into her cloak and placed a jingling bag of silver in the seamstress's hand. The Princess turned to leave but not before she looked back at her friend and said, "I promise I'll come back for it" The Princess gestured to the sapphire dress winking at her from the chair.

"And when I do, I'll be a woman worthy of wearing it."

The princess ducked out of the tailor's shop and onto the cobblestone street that wound through the buzzing marketplace. She meandered from stall to stall, booth to booth warmly greeting each merchant, genuinely interested in them and their wares. The fondness was reciprocated as each vendor regarded the royal with affection, commenting on how they had awaited her return to the town square. The Princess, being enveloped by so many beautiful and bold objects and people, was overwhelmed by the amount of love she felt for her country.

Arnoa was one of the four kingdoms that fell under the dominion of Palendula. Palendula was a vast realm, comprising the royal houses of Arnoa, Berestoa, Luiga, and Haddon. Learning from the mistakes of neighboring regions, the four royal houses of the dominion signed a peace treaty ensuring that no ethnic tensions would be tolerated within Palendulic borders. This resulted in a racially and culturally diverse realm.

Arnoa was a rich and fertile land with vast natural resources, however, under the poor leadership of Zita's father, King Fentalus, the country had made its descent into ruin. Zita's frustration with her father's corruption and mismanagement of funds frequently caused friction within the palace walls, which is exactly what took place the previous night. Zita confronted her father about his incessant need to throw lavish parties while his kingdom was suffering. A fight ensued and, as per usual, he threatened to marry her off to whichever ghastly and liver-spotted nobleman he could think of in the heat of the moment.

Zita weaved her way through bustling crowds of people carrying a burlap bag to transport all her spoils. She attempted to make her way to the plaza right next to the marketplace where the royal food cart was parked and poised to take her home as soon as she was done adventuring.

Just as she followed the path that would lead her out of the canopied cover of the marketplace and into the sun-drenched plaza, a sight arrested her in her tracks: the royal guard had descended upon the town square.

Desperate to remain unidentified, she quickly ducked behind the nearest booth and surreptitiously crouched down to eye the guards' movements before she headed back to the cart.

The royal guard was a scourge upon the townspeople. They spent very little time guarding anything and most of their time harassing whichever unlucky citizens they happened upon. Today, the kindly old man who begged for alms in the plaza was first on their agenda.

From her crouched position behind the jeweler's booth, Zita watched the travesty unfold. The vendor granted the Princess a safe look-out spot as he turned his attention to an interested customer.

Zita saw the sickle-spined old man cower as the hefty chief guard ripped his collection cup out of his hands and emptied the contents into his pocket. It took everything in Zita's power not to run over there and give them a piece of her mind, but she knew there would be hell to pay if her parents found out she blatantly disobeyed them and antagonized their guard.

While she wracked her brain for a way to get back to her cart, she saw a woman get up from a nearby seat in the plaza and reprimand the guard for treating the beggar in such a manner. Zita recognized from her clothing that the woman standing up for the old man was not Arnoan.

The guard— incensed— advanced on the foreign woman, pointing his sausage-link finger aggressively at her face. The foreign woman's companion, who was dressed in local attire, also arose from her seat and attempted to deflate the situation.

Soon another gargoyle-looking guard joined the dispute. Heated words were exchanged as the foreigner did not back down and the guards' tempers flared. Zita watched in utter horror as a look —unspoken and ominous— was exchanged between the two guards. The both of them rounded on the foreign woman, seized her, and tossed her into the back of their wagon to be carted off like a criminal.

The woman who was purchasing jewelry, after having watched the altercation, shook her head with bitter resignation. "Monsters. The whole lot of them," she muttered. Partly to herself, partly to the jeweler.

"I know. And soon, I fear, they'll make monsters of us all," the jeweler sighed back as he handed the woman her necklace and she handed him two pieces of silver.

Zita arose from her hidden position as soon as the guards were out of eyeshot and sprinted to the cart on the opposite end of the plaza. But not before making a brief detour to place the rest of her gold coins before the distraught beggar lying crumpled on the floor. He looked up at her in disbelief. She gave him a rueful smile and dashed to her cart where Steveon, one of the royal servants, was waiting for her underneath a nearby tree. She nodded to him, signaling to take her home. He nodded back as he briskly jogged to the attached horse and mounted it.

Zita climbed into the back of the cart amidst all the fresh produce and covered herself with a burlap sack to resemble a bag of potatoes in case the palace guards felt inclined to peek into the back of the cart upon entry. As she began her bumpy, cramped ride back to her palace, the princess began to concoct a plan to escape the palace again— but this time not for herself. She was going to free that foreign woman no matter what the cost.