We waste no time. Francine has helped me pack what is most essential to our new journey. I change out of my blue dress and exchange it for a pair of brown trousers with my blue blouse. I grab my fur jacket, my backpack and boots.
As I reach for my sword, Francine nervously asks, “Will you really be needing that, my child?”
I take a deep breath and exhale, “I don’t really know what we’re going to be up against, but you know how well I can handle a sword, Francine. Father trained me…before he...” As I trail off, a memory of my father and I when I was seven pops into my head. We are in the white garden and father hands me my first sword.
“Katia…your mother and I won’t always be here. So I need you to learn how to defend yourself.”
“But Papa…I’m scared,” I weakly reply as I look at the tiny sword in my small hands.
He gets down on one knee and looks me in the eye, “Sweet Katia, you are stronger than you know. And remember, the skills of combat are not all you need to win a fight. You need to be brave. There will come a time when you need to ask yourself the question…Are you willing to risk everything to do what is right?”
That question has stayed with me ever since. You would think what kind of father would ask his seven year old daughter a question like that? But that moment we shared has shaped the woman I have become today.
Francine walks me out towards the main gates where the men and Alexandar are waiting.
“Prince Alexandar, please look out for the Princess. She is everything,” Francine begs.
Alexandar walks over to Francine and places his hand upon her shoulder, “My lady, you have my word, Katia will return. I will not allow anything to happen to her.”
Francine smiles as tears escape her saddened eyes.
As I wave goodbye to Francine and my Kingdom, we begin our trek to find the Maker of the Arka Stone.
After an hour of trudging through the muddy hills, I inquire, “So where does this Maker live?”
“He resides near East Oaks,” Alexandar replies.
I look at him puzzled and he predicts my follow-up question by answering, “Phillip’s father knew him.”
“Phillip?” I ask.
“Very sorry I have not yet introduced him.” Alexandar nods to the cold-eyed young man and he steps forward.
“Greetings, fair Princess. My name is Phillip, the Prince’s head bodyguard.”
His eyes change when he greets me, but I still sense a coldness…a sadness to him and I am not sure why.
“Hello, Phillip. It is a pleasure to finally meet you,” I smile. “So your father knew the Maker?”
“Yes. My father’s trade was alchemy. He was the Maker’s apprentice.” Phillip states.
“An alchemist? Interesting. How did you become a soldier, if you don’t mind me inquiring?” I am intrigued by this young man. I pray I am not being rude by questioning him so.
“When my father…when he…”
I stop him, “It’s alright, Phillip. I am sorry for overstepping.” As I look away from him, I spot a tear in the corner of his eye. Why did I have to keep asking questions?
My distraction causes me to lose my footing and I begin to trip, but Phillip quickly catches me. I look up at him, this young cold-eyed broken man whom I sense has experienced a loss similar to that of my own…and I feel like…
“Katia…Katia…” Alexandar repeats.
“Um yes?” I really need to focus on the task at hand.
“We’re going to continue through the night. You’re okay with that right, Princess?”
“Yes of course.” I really hate the way he calls me “Princess”, like it’s a flaw somehow.
