The Price of Love

Chapter 3

John's PoV

I wake up to Maria hitting me on the head with a pillow. "Mariaaaaaaaaaa." I groan, shoving her away gently.

"Wake up." She says sternly.

"But it's Sundaaaaaaaay." I whine.

"Yeah. Didn't you have plans for today?" She asks pointedly. That's right! I sit bolt upright and scramble out of my large bed, falling to the floor and quickly getting to my feet.

"What should I wear?" I ask, opening my closet and looking through the various red, white, gold, and blue outfits.

"This." She says, holding up a pair of dusty brown clothes. Eeewwww. I wrinkle my nose in disdain at them. "Trust me, you'll want to wear these." I sigh dramatically and mutter something under my breath. "Get dressed." She orders, turning around. I quickly peel off my silk pajamas and change into the drab and itchy clothes she gave me.

"Alright. So now what?" I ask her.

"We sneak you out." She says. "Follow me. Your father won't be in our way, I've made sure of it." I follow her cautiously out of my room and through the palace, avoid servants and dodging maids. I follow her through a secret tunnel, probably for if the palace gets attacked and we need to evacuate, and walk out outside the palace walls. There's a horse waiting for me, a beautiful golden palomino mare. "That's your horse. Now go, shoo. Be back before midnight, I have to go. I'll leave you a change of clothes in the tunnel for when you return. Have fun!" Maria says before disappearing back into the tunnel. I excitedly scramble clumsily atop the mare's back and set her off at a trot.

---

Hours later, I arrive in New York. Dropping my horse off at a stable, I now understand why Maria insisted I wear these clothes. Everything here is various shades of brown and grey, I would have been stripped of my clothes within minutes. I look around in wonder, taking in the new sites. The people here look like they've never seen a stack of cash in their whole entire life, and there's barely any soldiers about. I only see one, sporting a drab and dull white and blue uniform, but walking proudly like he's wearing expensive silks. This place is strange. It's so dirty here. I wrinkle my nose slightly at all the dirt everywhere. I wander around for quite a while until I happen upon a bar. I could go for a drink. I think, walking in. My ears are met instantly with a cacophony of sound, so loud that I flinch. I weave my way over to the bar and order a pint of beer. It comes within minutes and I hand the man ten dollars, thinking nothing of it. I take a seat and turn around, watching the bar. After a few minutes, the door bangs open and a short young man with fiery red hair walks in. "Sam! Gimme a pint!" He yells across the bar, making his way over with a natural grace. The man behind the counter nods and quickly fills up a flask of beer for the man. The man slaps down two dollars and takes the beer. He stands up on a bar stool next to me. "Hey! HEY! SHUT UP!" He roars. The bar falls silent. "Thank you. Now, a toast to our fallen brothers, who died honorably defending us against the British. May Sergeant Thomas Jackson and Mark Cain rest in peace. And may their sacrifice not be in vain. Drink to a victory against the Redcoats men, and pray to God that we win." He raises his beer as he speaks, then takes a swig of it, the crowd following his lead. "And a moment of silence." Everyone bows their heads respectfully, the bar is absolutely silent for several long moments. Then the chatter begins to resume slowly, a solemn air staying thick among the crowd.

"Hey General! What happened yesterday? Heard there was a skirmish on seventy-eighth street!" Someone in the crowd shouts.

"Seventy-ninth street. We lost both men in the fight. I and nine other men were up against a medium platoon of 'em lobsterbacks. Killed 'em all pretty quickly." The young man says. My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He's a general? Damn.