Which was exactly why his own guardsmen, who normally stood post at his bedroom, had been so surprised when Mirco told them to go see their families. As far as they knew, Mirco was just like his father, cruel and ruthless. They must’ve thought that Mirco had gone mad.

  Just like Chrislan thought he had gone mad now.

  “Sir, you want us to come with you?” the guard asked hesitantly.

  “Exactly,” Mirco said, nodding shortly.

  Chrislan looked at the other guards, who seemed to be just as shocked by Mirco's request as the younger guard was. While they exchanged a look of uncertainty, which might be fueled by the considerable amount of beer they consumed, Mirco clapped in his hands cheerfully to break the awkward tension.

  “So,” he said, “who wants to go?”

  †

  While the guards discussed amongst themselves who would go for a ride with their crown prince, Mirco left the post and walked over to Lady. She whinnied happily in response to his return, causing Mirco to crack a smile. He patted her on her back and scratched behind her ears, at the one white spot on her otherwise deep black coat. Lady never failed to cheer him up.

  Mirco loved his horse like he did no other and had done so since the day he chose her as his. The king had despised him for his choice, punished him in the dark hours of the night, but no punishment was enough to change his mind. While his cousins and other sons of high lords chose the fastest, strongest colts at the breeder just outside the city walls, Mirco let his eye fall onto a small black filly, barely six months old at the time. She was young and tiny, but Mirco could see the intelligence shining through her eyes, as well as pure determination. His choice, although the beginning was tough, eventually paid off, as by now, she was faster than all the great stallions he knew.

  After a few minutes, two guards left the post and fetched their horses from the small stables behind the building. Mirco recognized the first as Chrislan, the young guard he had spoken to earlier. He still seemed utterly confused about the entire situation. The second guard, Ashryn, was a lot older. Mirco remembered training with him when the man was still on the king's personal guard. He always liked the frisky man, who was somehow still cheery after decades of fighting at the eastern battlefront.

  “Ready?” Mirco asked the guards once they had returned.

  The guards nodded.

  “With all due respect, Your Highness,” Ashryn then asked. “May I ask where this trip will take us?”

  Mirco shrugged.

  “Wherever Lady will bring us today,” he said. “I've got some important things to do.”

  Ashryn bowed his head shortly and stayed quiet as Mirco urged Lady to start walking. Someone else might have found the silence uncomfortable, but Mirco didn't mind it. He had enough on his mind already.

  The empty piece of parchment burned in Mirco’s pocket as they left the castle behind, tearing at his heart with every second that passed. He hadn't written a single name yet, hadn't been able to in the dark and gloomy castle. That's why he had decided to go for a ride. He needed a distraction, anything that would keep his mind off the decision he dreaded to make.

  In the meantime, they had arrived at the new, wide roads of the upper-class district. A few dozen mansions with delicate gardens and neat lawns were built side by side, each of which represented the wealth the family possessed in size and luxury. The largest mansions were located closest to the massive castle walls, where the walls provided safety in case of an attack.

  Even though it was still early, the streets were filled with people. Wives and daughters of high lords walked down the streets with their friends, all accompanied by at least one of their personal maids. They wore the most exorbitant dresses and shiny, expensive jewelry, some sparkling so brightly in the morning sun that it almost blinded Mirco. The women waved politely and giggled, some even taking the time to stop and deeply bow for their crown prince as he rode by.

  A handful of young noblemen rode past them on their mighty stallions. While most of them had their attention fixed on the chests of the passing women, some noticed Prince Mirco and the two guards. They bowed their head to the crown prince and greeted the guards with a polite smile before returning their attention to the road ahead.

  Mirco and the guards rode in silence. The guards seemed to enjoy their ride, happy that they didn't have to spend their day in the guard post like the others guards. They smiled contently as the bright morning sun lightened their path and the cheerful cheeping of early birds filled the sky.

  It was a beautiful day. There was no doubt about that.

  Mirco, however, couldn’t enjoy it, buried too deep in his own thoughts to notice what happened around him.

  Today was the day he had to choose which of his family he wanted to save and which he would let get killed. He despised most of his family, truly hated them for all the things that they had done to both himself and others, yet he couldn't help but feel guilty as he thought about the task at hand.

  It wasn't that he was uncertain about whose names he wanted to write down. No, he had known who he wanted, needed, to save from the moment Keyla had given him the task. Still, he couldn't put himself to grab a pencil and actually put the names on paper. That was still a bridge too far.

  So, he continued his ride in silence, passing by more and more lords, ladies, and other residents as he made his way to the center of the city. Behind him, he heard Chrislan and Ashryn talking lowly to one another. Mirco couldn’t hear much of their conversation, apparently there were some new girls in the castle kitchen, but what he heard was enough to decide not to join into the conversation. He wasn’t interested in gossiping about some girls.

  As they got closer to the city center, the gardens became smaller and smaller until they eventually disappeared completely. More people wandered the streets as the roads became narrower, some of them pulling small carts with them. The houses around here differed greatly from the grand houses just outside the castle. The paint was peeling from the walls, and in some places, large cracks had formed.

  They officially entered the middle-class neighborhoods as they passed the first merchant, who was loudly advertising his products at the side of the road. He stood right beside an old but neat wooden handcart packed with decorative pots and pans, which were seemingly carefully crafted and decorated by hand. A couple of older ladies eyed the merchandise curiously, and as one of them grabbed one of the larger pots, the merchant walked over to show the ladies his variety of products. Mirco could hear his words long after he rode past the old man.

  They rode for another few minutes until the streets became too crowded to continue. The chatter between the two guards behind him had died down a little while earlier and the two men were now keeping a close eye on the people surrounding them. It didn’t take long before their horses slowed near the point of stopping. Chrislan halted and called out Mirco’s name.

  “Your Highness, wait,” the guard said. When Mirco looked back over his shoulder, he saw the worry in his eyes. “Let us ride in front.”

  Mirco nodded and waited patiently as the guards pushed through the crowds and stopped in front of him. Once at their new positions, Ashryn and Chrislan turned around in their saddles to look at the crown prince.

  “Where do you want to go, Your Highness? “ Ashryn asked.

  Mirco almost rolled his eyes as he heard the guard using the title. He had lately started to despise such formalities, especially when it came from people he had practically known his whole life, like Ashryn.

  “I don't need to go anywhere in particular,” he said. “I just needed to get out of the castle to think.”

  Chrislan and Ashryn looked at each other and frowned. Mirco, noticing their confusion, sighed.

  “Just go wherever you want to go,” he said. “I really don't care.”

  The guards shared a look before they simultaneously turned around in their saddles and urged their horses to start moving again. Relieved, Mirco followed them, glad that the guards hadn't asked any more questions. While Ashryn and Chrislan cleared the path, Mirco let his gaze wander, hoping watching the busy city would calm his racing mind.

  The streets were filled with people from all over the city, but the high lords in their luxurious clothing, accompanied by dozens of guards and servants, directed all the attention toward them. They walked down the streets as if they owned the whole damn city, their chins kept up high at all times. Although most of the noblemen were too self-absorbed to notice anything about their surroundings, the very few that did notice their crown prince passing by bowed deeply.

  The high lords might fill the streets with their presence, but the largest part of the people crowding the streets were common working-class people. Hundreds of women and children walked down the streets, some selling their products on stands of various sizes, whereas others used small carts to display their merchandise. The kids ran down the streets as the mothers worked, chasing each other in violent games of tag.

  Mirco didn't see many men, but that was to be expected. All men from the age of fifteen were obliged to join the Almitherian army, so there were never many men present in the capital city of the country. Or in any city, for that matter. The only men present were either too old to fight or lost too many limbs to hold a weapon at the battlefront. None of them acknowledged Mirco's presence when they walked by, some even looking away when they saw their crown prince coming.

  Mirco tried to ignore the stinging pain he felt in his chest when he saw the people turning their backs on him, but it didn’t work. He knew he was partially responsible for the behavior. Too many of the horrible things that had happened in this city had been done in his name. Even though he rarely ever signed the orders himself, the King’s personal advisor had become rather skilled in forging his signature, the people blamed him for the horrible acts that followed those orders.

  Although the people themselves seemed to be quite calm, Mirco couldn't help but feel a bit uncomfortable in the busy streets of Dashburg. He felt the eyes of hundreds on the back of his head, looking at him when he had his attention elsewhere. He knew what they thought, knew they hated him. In fact, most of them would probably celebrate if he dropped dead right then and there.

  The popularity of the royal family had reached an all-time low among the majority of Dashburg, which in a country where riots and assassinations were common occurrences, meant something. The taxes had been raised to heights never seen before, and guards were constantly patrolling the city. Kids, some barely past the age of five, were punished for innocent acts like pulling a prank on the guards, some of them even being imprisoned for days.

  The combination of it all, the taxes, the constant, threatening presence of the patrols, the brutal punishments for even the most innocent citizens, had put everyone on edge.

  The tension could be felt across the whole city as they continued their journey. They arrived at the packed town square, and for a moment, Mirco was perplexed. It had been almost a year since he had been in Dashburg, even longer since he had dared to visit the town’s square. The thousands of people and many animals, the livestock so loud that they almost drowned out the sounds of the merchants praising their products, took him by surprise.

  He had gotten used to the relative tranquility of the castle, which, even in busy periods, never housed more than a few hundred people. Now, with the overpowering noise coming from all directions, he didn’t know how to react.

  There were at least three thousand people present at the town square, but barely a handful of them acknowledged Mirco's arrival. It wasn't that they didn't see them. No, they saw the guards and moved out of the way long before Ashryn and Chrislan even got the chance to direct them to do so. They turned their backs to the small company when they rode by, purposely ignoring the crown prince and his guards. It formed a sharp contrast to the richer neighborhoods of Dashburg, where they were continuously greeted with polite smiles and respectful bows. Mirco didn’t know what he hated more; the blind respect or silent hatred.

  The lack of attention only increased further when they left the town square and entered the even poorer parts of the city. Chrislan and Ashryn had stopped talking altogether now, holding one hand on the hilt of the swords at their hips while they cautiously looked at the people around them.

  Where the houses before were worn down, they were now on the brink of collapsing. Walls were kept upright by large wooden beams, and broken windows were covered by shabby pieces of cloth. The few shops located in the area were not much better off, though it was clear that the owners did the best they could. Some even went as far as sweeping the pavement in front of their shops, hoping it might help hide the fact that the paint was peeling off the slanting walls.

  The people were visibly scared when they saw the small company advancing and swiftly moved out of the way. The chatter died down, and the people pushed themselves against the walls to put as much distance between themselves and their crown prince as possible. They kept their gazes locked onto the ground at all times, as if too scared to even look at the crown prince.

  A frown adorned his face as he looked around. Mirco knew about the poverty in Dashburg, had read the thousands of reports and heard stories about the poorest areas of the city, but seeing it with his own eyes was something entirely else. It finally made him understand how bad the situation really was.

  Minutes passed in silence as they rode through the streets until Ashryn and Chrislan eventually stopped on a small market square.

  “Why did you stop?” Mirco asked.

  Carefully, Chrislan moved his horse closer to Mirco. The stallion neighed as if he could sense the fear.

  “Your Highness,” he said quietly, “we're approaching the outskirts of the city.”

  Mirco shrugged. They had managed to get through the city safely until now, so why not continue?

  “Your Highness,” Ashryn said, “it's not safe for you out there.”

  “It's not safe for me anywhere.”

  Ashryn clenched his jaw and looked to the side, silently begging Chrislan to continue the conversation. His colleague fortunately obliged and turned his attention towards Mirco.

  “Sir, are you sure?” he asked.

  Mirco nodded, determined. “I want to see it.”

  The guards, though still hesitant, turned back around and urged their horses to continue. Mirco heard them whisper some worried words back and forth, but didn’t think much of it. Instead, he silently followed them close behind.

  The houses were now beyond the point of being reparable. Not a single window was intact, and neither were most of the roofs. Most walls were kept upright by wooden beams, and in some places, the walls had even collapsed. The residents tried to cover up the holes and windows with any kind of material, old pieces of cloth, most of the time, but it seemed to be of little use. The wind blew right through it.

  Mirco felt his heart drop as he looked around. The outskirts of the city were always the first to be struck when the city was under attack, and after all these years, it showed. No building was fully intact, and neither were the wide streets. Many stones were missing, and it was notably bumpier than in other parts of the city. At some points, the road was so bad they had to slow down to make sure their horses wouldn't get injured.

  Although Mirco had already seen many shocking things that day, nothing made his heart drop as seeing the pure fear in the eyes of the people around him. Most of them hid in the dark alleyways, some of them even running away when they saw the unusual group advancing. They were petrified, Mirco noticed, and he wondered what was going on through their heads.

  Suddenly, a young boy ran out of one of the alleyways, and he heard someone scream.

  “Wen, no!”

  Mirco and the guards stopped on the spot, the former shocked by what he saw.

  A young boy stood right next to him on his left side, his eyes wide open in shock. He was fairly young, probably barely past the age of six, although he looked even younger because of his petite frame. He wore old, patched-up baggy clothes, which failed to hide how skinny the boy was. His eyes were sunken in, and his skin had a sickly grayish tone.

  Behind the boy stood a slightly older girl, probably around ten years old. Her clothes looked just as bad as the ones the boy wore, who Mirco suspected to be her brother. She was frozen in fear as she took in the scene in front of her.

  “I'm so sorry, Your Highness” the boy then said, his skin tone becoming even lighter. “I didn't mean to.”

  Mirco turned his attention back to the boy, and before he realized what he was doing, he dismounted. Behind him, he heard Chrislan and Ashryn warning him but barely even heard them. His attention was fixed on the young boy in front of him, who was almost crying at this point.

  In the meantime, the boy's sister quickly walked over to the boy. She grabbed his arm and yanked him back, pulling him behind her to protect him.

  “I'm so sorry, Your Highness,” she said. She bowed so deeply that her chin almost touched her knees, keeping her eyes locked straight onto the ground. “My brother, Wenlin, wasn't paying attention to where he was going. Please forgive him.”

  “There is no need to,” Mirco said, guilt fueling his words. “He didn't bother me.”

  The girl let out a sigh of relief and bowed even deeper, barely keeping herself upright with the ridiculous position.

  “Thank you so much, Your Highness.”

  The little boy, Wenlin, carefully peeked around his sister. He was still shaking and tightly held on to his sister’s dress. Mirco saw the fear in his eyes and mustered up a smile, hoping it would calm the boy.

  “Wenlin,” he said softly. “That's your name, right?”

  Wenlin nodded. Mirco motioned him to come closer and stood up. He pulled out his jacket, the sudden movement startled both brother and sister. It caused them to flinch, but they stayed put. Mirco removed the royal pin from his jacket and put it in the pocket of his pants.

  He looked at the terrified siblings and clenched his teeth. How had he let it get this far? How had he not been here before? They were terrified of him, all of them. Determined to fix his neglect, he kneeled back down, turning his attention back to the little boy.

 

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