In a world of magic and dragons, there was chaos until seven nations rose. They kept the world peaceful and in turn, the gods gave each of the leading families a gift. They called it the heirlooms, due to it being passed down through generations.
Wh...
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When Zale woke the next morning, all he really wanted to do was to roll back into his pile of blankets and fall asleep. Unfortunately, though, he could not do that due to the fact that the sun was already high in the sky and he had a mere couple of hours until he was needed in the prince's chambers and so with a heavy sigh, he dragged himself out of bed and began to dress.
~
Once he was dressed and out of the door, he began the journey up to the Castle in order to accept the prince's request. In his rush, Zale decided against walking into the bakery and instead opted to head straight to the castle at the top of the hill.
The castle was a large, beastly structure, with spiralling turrets and curving roofs. He personally hated it. He held a special loathing for the small stone sculptures perched almost everywhere that they would fit, staring down at him with nasty grins and evil eyes. The years' worth of fire used by the royals had caused an unusual amount of ash to settle into the stones, slowly turning them from a pale, clean stone, to a dark murky grey, which on particularly cloudy days would match the sky perfectly.
Once again passing the clock tower he sped up to a jog, noticing that he did not have much longer to go until he was needed.
~
As he came to the imposing doorway of the castle, a small ball of fear formed in his gut and he began to worry- what if they were to find out? He shoved it down and strode inside, head held high, he would not worry, nor would he show his fear unless needed.
He headed to the stairway with the prince's emblem carved above it, taking a moment to admire the main hall of the impressive castle. It was full of life and people rushing to complete tasks. The ceilings were high and had beautiful paintings spread across them, telling hundreds of years of stories and legends. One in particular stood out to him, a small group of dragons made their way across the whole ceiling, weaving in and out of the various scenes, as though watching the people in them.
He took the steps two at a time, his sword bouncing against his thigh as he climbed higher and higher until he reached a small hall with a singular pair of doors in the middle of the wall opposite him.
It was larger than the doors to the stables, but still smaller than the hulking doors that he had entered through earlier with a knocker made from pure gold, carved into the prince's signature adder. No- one knew why the man preferred adders, but no- one dared to ask.
He took a few steps forward before reaching out to knock, grasping the knocker before rapping on the solid oak of the door thrice. It immediately opened and the prince stood there with a smirk on his face, looking down at the boy.
"Ah, so you did arrive. For a moment there, I thought you were too much of a coward to arrive. I am glad you proved me wrong. Come, boy."
Zale followed the man into the chambers that were even more impressive than the hall, with dark green drapes - pulled back so that the heir would have a clear view of the courtyard – which matched the fabric canopy of the bed. There was a fireplace to the left of the boy and a large bearskin rug underneath him.
