The Saintess and the Villainess

A Tale of Two Princes - Chapter 6

Elyon had never liked the city. It was full of far too many people that he didn't know, who he couldn't ever know, even in all his long life span. But they all knew him. He could feel their eyes on him as he strode down the bright mosaic streets. He could see the way they lowered their eyes and stepped away to give him room. Hear the way they whispered to each other as he passed.

"The second prince-"

"Prince Elyon-"

"The prince-"

The weight of all their thoughts, feelings, expectations, and opinions bore down on his shoulders, dragging him down in a way that felt almost physical.

Elyon didn't understand how his father and brothers seemed to carry that weight so easily, as if they didn't even notice it...

"Elyon!"

This voice, bright and clear despite its slight note of panic, cut above the rest, stopping Elyon in his tracks.

Idiot, he thought to himself. The city of Gronderwen was so full of distractions that he had forgotten basic courtesy. Sebastian was shorter than him, and so had shorter strides, and he did not know the city as Elyon knew it; of course he was struggling to keep up. Elyon should have anticipated this and walked more slowly on purpose. Sebastian would be in grave danger if he was lost in the elven city on his own, but Elyon had gotten lost in his own head and forgotten all about that. Even if the forgetting had been brief, it was unforgivable. And he had already made so many mistakes with Sebastian, he was starting to worry that the situation was becoming unsalvageable.

But Prince Sebastian somehow didn't seem like the type to hold grudges, at least not over something like this. As soon as he was certain he wasn't being left behind, the brief fear in Sebastian's eyes was immediately overtaken by a shining sort of wonder at the scene around them.

"This place is beautiful..." Sebastian said, slightly breathless.

"I suppose you're right," said Elyon.

From an objective standpoint, it was beautiful. In times of peace, all elves lived long and easy lives, with most of their necessities provided by the Forest itself—and so they spent their many years on slow and meticulous artistic pursuits.

Every street was a mosaic, depicting scenes of nature or of elven tales and histories. Every building was of delicate marble, carved or painted with intricate patterns. And every passerby wore finely woven silks covered in hand-embroidered excess.

And this was only the lowest tier of the city, its poorest district, where each of these wonders represented a personal passion project. As they climbed higher they would reach neighborhoods where elves could afford to hire whole teams of other elves, each a master of their craft, to pursue their passions for them, creating art and architecture both more opulent and more tasteful.

And high above it all rose the palace, like a crown atop the city, rising higher even than the sacred trees themselves—the pinnacle of all elven culture and society, its visual splendor so great it dazzled the senses and was oddly difficult to perceive all at once, like your mind needed time to take in all those spires, buttresses, and crenelations and sort them all into a shape that made sense in the world.

"It's like... a tray of sweets," said Sebastian.

Elyon looked back at him, surprised, and Sebastian blushed.

"I mean..." he continued. "The palace chef back home will sometimes bring out these tiered trays of sweets for tea—little cakes and pastries and things, all decorated with brightly colored icing in pretty patterns. This city kind of reminds me of that. Is that silly? I don't mean it as a bad thing."