Chapter Song: Sufjan Stevens - He Woke Me Up Again ( watch?v=yeBcfjH9PaY)

Chapter 6: A Different World

The next morning materialised in front of Arthur faster than he'd anticipated and it rose up unexpectedly with the washed out winter sun and the whipping early morning breeze. He hadn't dared to sleep in as he had done the day before and he left the house with the soft sleeping breaths of Mel and Peter still reverberating around the cottage airily. He paused to glance into his brother's crib at the little infant sleeping there, legs stretched out, thumb firmly lodged in his mouth. He apologised inwardly for not spending much time at home of late.

The Warehouse was already alive and pulsing when Arthur reached it and truthfully, he could imagine the place in no other way - as if it was some tireless whirring power source fuelling the entire town square; The entire farming region.

No time had been wasted in organising the carts - which were stacked high with mostly sacks of tea leaves. Arthur concluded that they must drink a lot of tea in the capital; the amount that was piled onto those carts. It was a shame to see it all go. In Kattleroot they never really bothered with it and Arthur didn't drink it frequently but he was very fond of it. It had a reassuring taste, he thought. In fact, on Market day, while Antonio gazed at the Capital jams and spices, Arthur was surely gazing at the tea. Sometimes they imported it from the other kingdoms and they'd sell it in exotic flavours that Arthur found hard to imagine accompanying the subtle, warm taste of the ordinary leaves but that he was inexplicably compelled to try. Maybe he would one day.

Arthur was hoisted onto the back of the second cart like one of the sacks of tea leaves and struggled to find a comfortable arrangement amongst the produce in the rather full, cramped space. As the final preparations were made he eyed the sky warily, the soft sun of the early morning had been replaced by a much more familiar grey overcast. He just prayed it wouldn't rain, for the sake of himself and the tea leaves.

He noticed Antonio, who was helping pass over yet more sacks and crates, pausing to squint up at the darkening sky above them. They caught each others' eye and Antonio pulled a face. He raised his eyes upwards again and crossed his fingers at the sky.

It took Arthur a second to realise that his friend was praying for the exact opposite that he was, and quite rightly too. While Arthur had been concerned about getting a little damp in the back of the cart, Antonio was thinking about the farms. About the crops, the fields, the humble patches in people's back yards. He was thinking about all the hungry stomachs, the weary, disappointed faces when a crop withered and died... the joy and relief when you dug up a handful of healthy potatoes or carrots. That was what mattered. Arthur immediately felt guilty; he hadn't known himself to be this shallow before.

He returned his friend's wary smile as Antonio looked at him again, setting down the crate he was holding.

A shout was passed from the front cart and Arthur noticed Tim standing by the Warehouse back entrance give a firm nod and raise a hand, taking his pipe out of his mouth as he did so.

"Everything's set! Move out, boys! And look sharp," his voice rose to be heard above the din of the horses whining and the creaks of the carts, "the sooner the Capitals are eating out of the palms of our hands...the better."

The first cart began pulling away down the beaten road but just before Arthur's followed, Belle, appearing seemingly from thin air, ran over to the side of his cart, Antonio just behind.

"Tell us what it's like, kay?" She grinned at him, leaning against the splintering wooden side of the cart and gripping the bent wood boards excitedly.

"Of course, I don't know how much I'll see though..." He hated to disappoint the excitement reflected in his friend's shining eyes.

"No matter!- But tell us everything! It's not like we're ever going to get any closer to it," her eager tone didn't falter at Arthur's words.

The second horse began to pull away after the leading cart and Arthur was being simultaneously carried away from his friends.

"See ya later, Arthur!" Antonio smiled at him, waving.

He waved back, watching them both as they saw him off with beaming smiles. He kept waving until his arm ached and until the two of them were nothing but blurry ink stains in the distance on the shrinking string of a road, the Warehouse a matchbox and the town no more than a cluster of ramshackle dollhouses.

The Cerulean river - that was its name... or at least it was, until that name was more or less forgotten. It was just 'the river' to most, its fame so commonplace that it didn't even require a title at all. It was the mother of all rivers in the Spades Kingdom and breathtaking in its continuous variety, the places where it widened and seemed to swallow up each side of the land, or when it babbled mildly over the rocks, practically a stream and only a whisper of it's true volume. Said river was currently humming with wildlife as it wound through the south woods of the palace grounds.

Alfred was stretched out on his stomach, a hand trailing in the rushing waters as the silver flash of a fish flitted by beneath the surface. Somewhere nearby a grasshopper hummed insistently. A tall flower (or maybe it was a weed? It was pretty enough to be a flower, Alfred thought) tickled his chin and the long grasses brushed against his bare arms, exposed from the rolled up sleeves of his white shirt.

He stopped gazing at the flowing body of water and rolled onto his back. The sky was darker than before, the clouds slowly moving over the pale sun. The air seemed suddenly cooler than it had been moments before. It looked as if any second now the thick blanket of clouds would open up and shed their weighty contents down over both Alfred and the river.

Alfred frowned worriedly; if it rained he'd be fetched and pulled inside for sure. In fact, he was surprised this hadn't happened already. Being let outside in the cold season was an immense rarity let alone without Georgia or another chaperone. Although Alfred expected she wasn't far off. She was a good nurse. She always knew when to give Alfred space when he was brooding. It wasn't often he was ill tempered but when the mood took him that way he just hated to be cooped up inside.

And the mood was taking him now.

He'd just sat through a long and frustrating literature class. His brother hadn't even been there to ease the pressure, he was probably riding or weapons training as he often got to. That sounded so much more exciting than studying old writers! Either way, the class was being taken by Yao who Alfred was pleased to be taught by for the first time in weeks. But Yao was short tempered with the boy and even dismissed him early when he declared them to be 'getting nowhere'. This disheartened Alfred, who did try to be interested in Literature. It was just difficult sometimes.

The previous day when he'd spoken to the Jack in his study he'd introduced him to 'Lord Ardnan' - the course noble he'd been so captivated by on previous visits. Although, Yao had clearly forgotten that they had already been introduced. The meeting baffled Alfred. He couldn't help picking over what had passed now, the same way he'd seen hens picking over the grit and dirt for grains of feed.

"Ah, your highness, I trust you are in good health?" A bow of the head, a slight quirk of the brow.

The same amused smile had greeted him even in the simple passing of pleasantries exchanged at the beginning of the meeting. Then again, this was the easiest part, for Alfred was accustomed to people asking after his health and his answer never altered.

"I'm well, thank you."

He'd answered a few more civil questions on the weather and his studies before he was surprised by a few less simple ones on the future that he mumbled answers to vaguely, his mind most occupied with his discomfort at the expectancy of the Jack and the fact that he still hadn't eaten any lunch.

"Yao tells me the palace is quiet for you mostly - that it can be lonely for a boy your sort of age. Of course that will change - but there's nothing wrong in finding comfort in certain things, things which won't change - a bit of solidity of state. Would you not agree, hm?"

Alfred wasn't sure what solidity of state meant. He wasn't sure what Sir Ardnan was implying altogether. That Alfred should be lonely here, or shouldn't be?

"I have my brother..." Alfred's reply was uncertain and he became aware that he was switching his weight from foot to foot - the same thing he did when excited, however this time it seemed reversed somehow.

Ardnan laughed, not loudly or particularly roughly as his manner suggested, but with a reserved nature - as if the joke was mostly with himself - which it must have been, Alfred thought, as nothing he had said seemed particularly funny to him and Yao certainly wasn't laughing.

"Your brother, how true," His eyes retained the amusement even as the initial laughter died. "Although, you must know even he will not be by your side always - no, he cannot, will not be a constant support to you, your highness, in the future. He has his own duties - isn't that right? So... then what?"

Alfred thought long and hard about what was being asked of him, a frown forming between his brows in the effort of comprehension.

"I am..." His uncertainty was even greater with the emergence of his next statement and he looked to Yao, who had been ominously silent throughout, before continuing as if seeking permission or approval of some for."...To be married?"

Alfred thought he saw Yao make a short nod as Ardnan sat back, seemingly satisfied.

"Of course, that's correct - but not to be troubled with that now - that's a later affair, is it not?"

The lord smiled at Alfred this time in a way he thought was supposed to be friendly but still managed to make him nervous and render him temporarily timid. A furtive smile passed unsurely over Alfred's mouth in response.

In the end he'd signed some wordy agreement and tripped out of the office, the Jack having further important matters to discuss with Lord Ardnan. He just wandered forlornly in the direction of the kitchens, feeling younger and more incompetent than ever.

He was normally good at talking to people. Great even. He was confident and had a cheerful ease around most strangers - usually becoming too comfortable rather than the other way around. That didn't explain why this Lord Ardnan unnerved him so. Nor why he felt the need to try and impress him so much.

Not that it mattered. He was just a child, right? Not much he could do to impress anyone right now. That's the way it was. He liked the security being young offered. Well, it was a mix of freedom and security really - a rare commodity. But he just hated feeling inferior. He just... wanted to be great! How could he be great when he was still so young?

He pouted and plucked a daisy from the earth beside him, twirling it in his hands.

The sound of iron wheels pulling into the rear drive of the palace in the distance distracted Alfred from the tiny flower. He craned his neck in interest at the approaching delivery carts.

A shipment from the Capital? No, perhaps not, the carts were smaller and more worn. His mind was blank.

Who if not the Capital?

Alfred sat up to better see, dusting his hands on his trousers. Still not content with the view, he eyed the tree beside him and began to climb, swinging himself with ease onto its lowest branches. If there was one thing he was great at, it was climbing trees.

The young prince scrambled up a bit higher, straddling a somewhat thin branch which protruded out a little further than the others. From here he could watch the approaching carts and the delivery men shifting things off them very easily. He was already listening to the steady horse's hooves and the warm exchanges between the deliverers in their raw country accents.

No longer the object of his interest, he dropped the daisy in the water below and it bobbed slowly away.

Arthur gazed at the looming Spades Palace with wide eyes. It was bigger than he'd expected.

They had passed through the Capital briefly to get there, not the centre but the outskirts. The backstreets alone were grander than any town Arthur had ever seen. The buildings were architecturally stunning, each one in perfect condition, and standing straight as if proud to be part of their kingdoms most important city. The neat cobbles of the streets sounded almost otherworldly against the horse's hooves to Arthur, who was much more accustomed to the soft thump of dusty dirt or the irregular clatter of loose stone. They'd caught sight of a bell tower as they'd rambled past, its brass bell gleaming and huge, making the rusty contraption in the town square look like nothing more than a child's noisemaker.

There were people everywhere and Arthur did his best not to stare at them as he passed on the carts rear, his legs dangling off the back.

They were much...neater than those in the villages. There was a certain aspect of precision about them, of civil control. They wore fancy dresses and tailored suits and the women sported piled hairdos that must have taken hours of effort to arrange - a lot more, he imagined, to sustain such works of art for any decent length of time. On their feet were expensive looking shoes that shone as bright as the metal carriage wheels. There were also working men though - some beggars too, Arthur noticed - and merchants on rickety stands not unlike those in Kattleroot. The poor were everywhere, Arthur realised. Even the inhabitants of the 'royal city', centre of culture and wealth, could not escape the festering grip of poverty.

The Palace however, was something else entirely. Approaching it from behind, it still did not fail to take Arthur's breath away. He didn't think he'd ever forget the moment they burst from the shelter of the wood's trees and the capital's high Walls and found themselves on the lengthy back road, the grand Palace shimmering into view. It's sloped slate roofs and straight stone walls materialising majestically on the horizon. It was shaped like a 'U', although drawing up from behind it was the other way around. But this description was only a basis for its intricate design. The large central building towered up like a stack of cards, balconies jutting out from it's even walls and almost purposefully spawned weaving ivy climbing the side of the building cautiously. It made Arthur think of the Warehouse, although the comparison in terms of grandeur was null and void.

The two other 'wings' which stretched back from the palace were more uniform but still boasted towers and extended window seats and high, peering attic windows. In Arthur's vision now, directly at the back of the house was a wide conservatory, it's transparent walls glinting like jewels against the brief interruption of the sun, which had broken through the dismal clouds and now fell in a few potent rays onto the Palace's roof, as if the place was some sacred ground over which no clouds dared loom and no rain dared fall...And around this splendid fortress rolled seemingly endless cascading fields and hills, a flash of water through some trees beside him that seemed to weave out of sight somewhere further ahead.

As they drew up a lot closer to the Palace the water came into sight yet again and Arthur made it out to be a river. Following the movement of the water with his eyes he saw a tiny flower float by on its surface.

From his tree, Alfred watched curiously as the carts pulled into the drive.

Unloading the carts had been a fairly simple, if flustering task. Arthur had assisted where he could, passing down sacks from the cart to those waiting below, although the older, more able workers had little trouble in doing this without his help. He felt almost a little useless for a while, finding few tasks he could involve himself with that didn't feature getting in someone's way or slowly someone down. As it was, some of the kitchen servants were helping to take the produce into the pantry which sped up the process further. He seemed to be serving his purpose either way; he'd noticed a few of the palace staff glance at him uncertainly, a little unnerved, just as Tim had hoped. It wasn't helped by the fact that Arthur looked so much younger than he actually was - a fourteen year old doing deliveries wasn't wholly uncommon - not at all - but they probably thought he was about twelve or younger. He just tried his best to look competent. He didn't want to look young and incapable. That was just embarrassing.

The whole operation was going rather smoothly until one of the horses, Clover, began fussing. To be fair to the poor creature, she hadn't been fed or watered since setting off. Neither had any of them - not that they had expected any such thing - but in saying so, none of them had been lugging a full creaking cart of produce and an array of weighty workmen on their backs.

She began to twist and struggle in her reigns, whining loudly. Those nearby tried their best to calm her, patting her side or tugging at her reigns to stop her pulling, but her aggravation only grew. A palace maid stepped in, having noticed the fuss with the mare.

"Your horse is thirsty," she confirmed, taking a bag of tea leaves from Arthur's hands, "there is a river just past those trees - you might have seen it on your way - let it drink there for a while."

Arthur, considering himself nominated for this task, nodded and began to free Clover of her reigns. Remembering what Tim had said about his voice, he glanced at her again.

"Thank you, ma'am," He lowered his head once again courteously as he finally undid the knot in the restless horse's reigns.

She squinted thoughtfully at his accent before supposedly dismissing it in her mind and walking away with the sack of leaves.

It felt a bit wrong, purposefully trying to get people's attention like this and he suddenly felt a swell of resentment for Tim for encouraging him to emphasise his differences. Perhaps part of him got some degree of...satisfaction from the bafflement of these high class staff members but it was less confusion as it was a subtle discomfort at Arthur's irregularity in terms of a peasant delivery boy. They didn't understand him, so they felt it best to be distant. Of course, they weren't exactly chummy with any of them - as had been illustrated by Tim: They didn't want their service. They looked down on them. It was absurd that even the servants whose backgrounds could have only been vaguely less humble than their own saw them as far below them, wallowing with the sad, drooping dregs of society.

Arthur led Clover down away from the bustle of workmen and to the edge of trees at the side of the drive. He could already hear the babbling trickle of moving water nearby and continued through the greenery by ear until he found the grassy bank of the river.

Winding the trailing end of Clover's rope around a tree and double knotting it firmly, he took an opportunity to collapse on the grass of the riverbank. His attention was captured by the dryness of his own throat and he followed Clover's example in leaning over the edge of the shallow, clear water. He cupped his hands a little below the rippling surface. Boy and horse both drank greedily.

Having sated his immediate thirst, Arthur leant back on the rough tree trunk behind him, the same one he'd secured Clover to. He watched as she raised her head from the water, ears twitching contentedly.

Soon he wasn't looking at the horse anymore but at the Spades palace visible through a gap in the trees. It seemed so close. If he really, really tried, Arthur could imagine that sitting here by the river he was part of this rich and other-worldly royal life. He could almost envisage that the palace and all this tranquil perfection around it was where he spent his days. That he wasn't on a delivery, but enjoying a leisurely breather out in his own gardens. He wanted to laugh at the notion. To be brutally truthful, he wasn't sure it would suit him, such ease of living. It was probably just the 'life's a game' attitude he and Antonio upheld, but such luxury seemed to lack challenge. Of course, if you were king or queen there certainly would be challenges, but such responsibility was no more appealing than the dullness of privilege.

Arthur flinched suddenly, his spine prickling. Unsure where his sudden sense of alarm had come from, he glanced around. He had the unnerving feeling of being watched.

As if inspired by this thought, a branch somewhere nearby made a drawn out cracking sound. There was an intake of breath and another long creak followed by splintering of sorts.

Arthur leapt to his feet, eyes now scouring the thin canopy above.

Without warning the branch of a tree beside him cracked again and broke off completely, falling however with what sounded like a very human cry.

"What in the-?!" Arthur took a step back placing a paranoid hand on Clover's rope.

The shattered branch itself was now floating in bits downstream and whoever had inhabited it was dusting themselves off on the bank of the opposite side.

"Oops..." The tousled boy mumbled to himself.

Arthur tried to piece together what had just taken place in his brain as he watched the other pick a twig out of his hair.

"W-what on earth were you doing up there!? You practically gave me a heart attack!" Still not over the initial shock of his arrival, Arthur wasted no time in interrogating the boy.

Alfred, shocked at falling out of the tree and reeling from the concept that the strange boy he'd been spying on only seconds before was now suddenly addressing him directly, could feel no sufficient answer existed, or if it did it was too far away for him to find.

I'm sorry; I was just spying on you and leaned a bit too far to see what you were doing? - No, that wouldn't do at all.

"Sorry, I lost balance - I didn't mean to scare you!" Alfred glanced sheepishly at the cracked branch laying haphazardly half in, half out of the river.

"I wasn't scared!" Arthur sniffed proudly, "I was just surprised, that's all."

Alfred laughed. It caught Arthur off guard to hear it, loud and true, without a sense of forcefulness or that muffled quality brought on by the ever present thought of what might come when the laughter stops. Arthur hadn't heard anyone with such a carefree laugh as this boy in...Well, not really ever.

"You say your words all funny," Alfred dismissed Arthur's claim and smiled at him in curiosity.

"Excuse me?"

"Your voice... It's different," Alfred kept smiling, seemingly oblivious to the curt nature of Arthur's reply. He was hesitant for only a second - "I like it."

Arthur shifted awkwardly. From opposite sides of the river the two boys just looked at each other for a few moments.

Arthur took the opportunity to take in this boy who'd fallen from the sky and shocked him half to death.

He could tell he was quite young, though he was not that much shorter than Arthur (he was disgruntled to notice) and stocky and better filled out too. He was clearly a noble, so of course this fact was not without reason. There was an energy about him that radiated from the rosy tint in his cheeks or the healthy tan on his arms. The way he bounced slightly on the balls of his feet and cocked his head ever so slightly when he smiled; he exuded vitality. Even his posture suggested a cheerful liveliness, hands clasped behind his back, chin tilted with his grin, in such a way that it looked like he was waiting for something good to happen - for a pat on the head or a spoonful of something sweet or for someone to lean down and plant a kiss on his forehead. It suggested an eager anticipation for affection. In addition to all this, his hair was thick and had a similar shine to Antonio's, although the comparison ended there. This boy's was a dark blonde, streaked much lighter in places and parts fell over his face while one tuft sat up on his head as if it had some quarrel with the rest of his hair. His eyes were the colour of the famous river which wove itself through the kingdom. Cerulean blue, like cornflowers. He couldn't have been over thirteen years of age.

Arthur had no idea who he was.

"Do all peasants talk like you?" Alfred spoke again. Arthur noticed he blinked more when he spoke.

"Not where I come from," he felt a little snubbed at the blunt term of 'peasant' - it seemed degrading even if true. The question was hard in some ways, mainly because the real answer was no.

"Where do you come from?" Alfred had been told before about his tendency to bombard people with questions when he first met them but he couldn't help himself. He had an odd sense of excitement in the pit of his stomach because he knew he probably shouldn't be talking to this boy at all and that he'd be scolded if caught, but he didn't get to spend much time with other children except his brother, and this boy interested him so.

"Kattleroot, in the farming region."

"Are you a farmer?"

"No," Arthur thought that was a stupid question but didn't say so. In fact, he felt a bit mean for the harshness of his answer and added: "I help out sometimes."

"Is it any fun?" Alfred was generally interested, much to Arthur's amazement.

"It's hard work," I don't expect you'd know about that - he would have added it if it didn't sound so spiteful and if Alfred's eyes didn't sparkle as eagerly as they did.

"What else do you do? Except helping on farms and doing deliveries of course?"

Arthur took a moment's hesitation to consider what he wanted to tell this complete stranger about his life. After a short silence he looked at the young boy sideways, giving him a wan smile.

"I climb trees."

Alfred blinked.

"For fun?" His mouth was a tad agape.

"No..." Again, hesitation. A quick summing up of the border between just enough and too much, "to get a better shot."

"A better shot? At what?" Alfred really was interested now. For all he knew, this boy in front of him was a notorious murderer but Alfred only leant in eagerly in the hopes of hearing more.

"Game, Rabbits, squirrels, chickens...a wolf once," Arthur discarded any hopes of confidentiality when he realised that the boy's onslaught of questions wouldn't cease until he knew everything. As well as this, a guilty part of him relished such an entranced audience and he felt his own ego getting the better of him somewhat.

"A wolf?!" Alfred's eyes lit up, he might as well have slain a wild monster.

"Yeah." Well, technically it had been him and Toni. And the wolf was pretty old...And sleeping. But it was still true.

"So, you're like a real hunter then? With a bow and...and arrows and everything?" Again the young boy let off that effortless and expectant excitement. He looked at Arthur like he was some rare and long awaited gem.

It made the older boy very uncomfortable. He was certain that in either one of his lives he had not been looked at in such a way. He'd have told him to stop it if he could think of a way how...The part of him that relished the attention was shrinking now.

He was also uncomfortable talking about hunting. In truth, he wasn't supposed to do it. The law states that under eighteen year olds could not kill and claim game from the forests and even adults had boundaries to what was legal past a certain perimeter. And the woods were dangerous too, which made even the rules in his own village fairly strict in regards to going out there. Such rules were the very same ones that he and Antonio found themselves bending frequently.

"Well, I do happen to have a bow...and arrows...and I hunt so, yes, I am. A hunter I mean." He felt nervous.

The young blond was quiet briefly and Arthur half expected him to smile smugly and tell him that his father was the head of royal game keeping law or something similar and would be here to take him away in five minutes. In fact, he very much expected it.

"That's amazing!" Alfred grinned, bouncing on his feet excitedly, "a real hunter? I wish I knew how, I have to learn archery but that's not 'til I'm older. But you already know? That's so exciting! Hey!...maybe you could teach me?"

Arthur's mouth opened and closed; he was rendered momentarily speechless. Teach him? There were plenty of reasons as to why this would be difficult.

"We'll settle it then," Alfred didn't wait for his approval, "next time you come bring your bow and you can show me everything!"

"Uh, maybe," Arthur decided it best to go along with it. Next time he came? This statement alone was an unlikely. The delivery to the palace was chance. Taking Clover to the river was chance. Meeting this boy at all was chance. That seemed like one too many chances to Arthur. He'd probably never see the eager boy again.

"I'll be great at it, I bet!" Alfred smiled brilliantly.

Arthur, who knew the skill required in archery, smirked at the confident blonde: Nobles. Convinced they can do anything.

"Not if you fall out of the tree before you're even aiming you won't, you twit."

Alfred looked immediately indignant and opened his mouth to cry some excuse when a muffled calling in the distance caused him to whip his head around instead.

"Oh, I have to go," Alfred appeared torn between the caller and the mysterious boy on the opposite side of the river, his previous ease replaced with a more tense urgency.

Somewhere from his side, a course voice yelled Arthur's name, alerting him that he too, had other places to be.

"Me too," He took a few steps backwards, reaching for the knot of Clovers rope.

"You'll come back right?" Alfred's tone rose in urgency as he glanced again to where the voice had come from.

"Well..." hesitancy and then again, the feeling that making promises to this boy would make no difference now,"sure."

Arthur had unwound Clover's reigns and was now hooking his hand through the old leather in preparation to lead her away.

"What's your name?" Alfred blurted quickly, looking over his shoulder again.

"Arthur," he paused realising this would be his first question for the boy besides his first angry accusation, "and yours?"

Before he spoke he was interrupted by the calling voice yet again, though the answer remained the same.

"Alfred! Your highness!"

He seemed panicked as he twisted around once more, backing away from the river now.

Arthur felt himself blanch.

Alfred. Your highness.

"Y-you're Alfred? As in, Prince Alfred?" He felt his voice waver.

A few flashing and urgent words floated up in his head, followed by a whole string of them – he would be beheaded surely – or something.

"Oh, you didn't know?" Alfred seemed generally surprised.

He was called again and from Arthur's side of the river there was the urgent sound of carts creaking and horses braying loudly, Clover tugging insistently on her rope as if urging him away.

Oh, you didn't know?

"Don't forget to come back!" Alfred yelled over his shoulder as he hurried off towards the source of the calling. Arthur, shocked as he was, sensed that he would be left behind by both his co-workers and Clover if he dallied any longer, took off in the other direction, horse in tow. And the two found themselves travelling away from one another in opposite directions, the famous cerulean river between them, both leaving footprints in the damp soil.

As Arthur sat in the now empty cart he let his shoulders sag with his weary sigh and put his head in his hands.

Oh, you didn't know?

He'd just met the prince of spades and acted like more of a fool than he ever had to anyone else he'd met in his lifetime. He'd just met the prince and he'd called him a twit.

He lifted his head just as the first icy raindrops began to fall, splattering over his clothes and down the side of his face.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Things start to pick up the pace a bit after this.

I love to hear your feedback if you have any! :)

Until next time ~