Snow dashed down in large flakes, scattering the earth of Ashvale, as Prince Alexander sat atop his horse, trotting out of the stables and into the kingdom. His new-fit armour felt comfortable and protective over him and the sword on his belt gave him relief of protection. The streets were dangerously slip-prone but, luckily, the Prince's horse was well-trained and managed to trot on through. Guards had insisted on accompanying him out of the castle and to wherever the teenage royal wished to go, especially since a new criminal had shown he existed, but the Prince stubbornly stated that he wished to go alone. Prince Alexander saw what a mess the crime had caused. Windows on houses were smashed, some beams holding the wooden structures were torn down, burn marks covered wood, and some houses were just rubble. How one person managed to cause this without being caught was outstanding. By the looks of things, fire had been the main cause, even in the awfully cold snow that fell. He continued up the paths and streets, until he had reached the freezing edge of the woods. His horse had stopped, huffing out a breath of white mist, but he tugged the reigns for it to continue at a walk into the forest. And so he did. It was oddly silent in the forest, peaceful and calm. The horse had the obvious urge to turn back, probably knowing better than the Prince, but Prince Alexander, as mentioned, was very stubborn and made it trod on forward. An even eerier silence hit the woods and the horse suddenly jumped up to it's hind legs, making a sound of fear.
"Woah!" Prince Alexander gained control over the horse and looked around, surprised it had been startled in such silence. Then he noticed a black horse in the distance, with a rider atop. Squinting, he attempted to make his steed move towards the figure but the hesitant horse was as stubborn as its rider and refused. The Prince mumbled inaudible curses at his horse and noticed that when he looked back up, the figure had disappeared. His eyes scanned everywhere around, unnerved by the spooky silence, and he came up with nothing so he turned his horse around and galloped back through the kingdom, into the stables and dismounted.
"Prince Alexander, where have you been?" the stable boy, one of the Prince's only friends, Rian, asked. "Nevermind that. I thought you wanted to compete in the games. They're in the arena in about ten minutes."
"Oh!" the Prince quickly thanked Rian and sprinted off to the arena. He hadn't realised how late he was back.
*
"And finally, the sword fight. Ready. Prepare. Battle!"
Prince Alexander swiftly held up his sword to block the attack of whomever he was fighting. The person had a mask up over their whole face, bar their gorgeous brown eyes, and had a silver, unfamiliar, sword which the local blacksmith could never make. But, the Prince had little time to dwell on his opponent as he was letting his fighting techniques kick in. He ducked another attack and swiped for the tall opponent's legs, but they jumped over the blade and brought their sword down, leaving the Prince little time to roll out of the way before it would have hit him. A kick to their shin made them stumble slightly but their balance fixed itself fairly fast and they kicked the Prince back in the gut, forcing him to fall over backwards. They stood their foot to his chest, holding their sword down to steadily hold over where his heart was beating. It was announced that the opposition had won, and the Prince was generally surprised. He had never lost a sword battle in the games. The opponent held out their hand to help up the royal, who, for some reason, took it and pulled up, standing and shaking their hand to say it was a fair game. Before anything else could happen, the opponent had gone. Just like that. The Prince was beyond mad at himself for not only losing but taking the time to look up at the King who overlooked the battle and missing the opponent's name. He sure as Hell wanted to know the name of someone with the skill to beat him. With a sigh, he stalked back to the castle grounds and sat in his garden. Red roses. They were his favourite flower, and he sat on a rock, staring at them for hours on end, it seemed.
