Of Royalty And Humility

The Calm

Before the storm, the capital, Arielle, stood serene and unshaken, as the radiant heart of Sylora’s strength and beauty. Its avenues, neatly ordered and flanked by stone buildings that whispered of centuries gone by, spoke to a kingdom untouched by the ravages of war. The forest that surrounded it remained as mystical and impenetrable as ever, guarding the city against threats that seemed always to linger on the borders, yet never daring to breach the peace that Arielle enjoyed.

Above, the castle loomed, its spires rising like sentinels into the heavens. The sheer cliffs it clung to fell sharply to the sea below, where the waters churned and twisted—home to dark creatures whose existence seemed more legend than fact. To the people of the capital, such fortifications were relics, symbols of a time when defense was necessary. Now, they stood merely as decorative reminders, and the people’s concerns turned not to invasion, but to the pleasantries of city life. Even the recent poisoning attempt on the king—had done little to rouse their complacency. The king had survived, after all, and life in the capital carried on with nary a ripple of concern.

She rehearsed what she would say to Sebil, standing at the edge of the market square, her mind preoccupied, she scarcely registered the constant drone of the delivery man, Kellen’s voice beside her.

“You know,” Kellen remarked, his voice full of a self-satisfied confidence that did not quite match the occasion, “I could take you to the seaside one day. You ever been out that far?”

Sehren gave a polite nod, though her thoughts were far from the present conversation. “I have been to the cliffs,” she replied in a distant tone, hoping to convey that the subject held little interest for her.

Undeterred, he pressed on. “Ah, but have you ever gone down to the shore itself? There's a little spot, hidden away. If you’re fortunate, you might even catch sight of a kraken.”

Sehren resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her father had shielded her from such attentions, yet here she was, faced with Kellen’s unsubtle attempts to charm her. It was not that he was offensive, merely that his words held no interest for her.

She glanced to the side at the boy standing quietly by, his posture unnaturally rigid for one of his supposed station. He had said little—perhaps he was shy, she thought.

Kellen, unaware of her distraction, continued, “You know, I’m not just a delivery man. I’ve got my own cart, and I’m saving up for a shop. Maybe one day, I could even take you to see more of Sylora. There’s so much beyond the palace walls.”

Sehren smiled faintly, her expression practiced and distant. “That sounds... nice,” she said, though she had no intention of following through.

Her attention drifted once more to the silent figure beside them. His dark eyes and hair set on sharp features, his expression unreadable. He stood like one accustomed to observation, yet reluctant to participate. 

“Have you ever been beyond the borders of Sylora?” she asked the stable boy, seeking to draw him into the conversation.

His response was curt, as though the very idea of such an excursion held no appeal. “The idea holds no interest to me,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. Sehren blinked in mild surprise, having not expected him to speak at all.

“There is much to see outside the walls,” Kellen interjected, proudly flexing his arm and pointing to a small scar. “Only last week, I was nearly mauled by a beast while delivering goods near the edge of the forest.”

Sehren barely acknowledged his boast, her mind still on the boy beside her. His reserve was unlike any stable hand she had met before, and though he said little, his watchful gaze moved constantly over the crowd.