A/N: Yes, I know it's been forever since I updated—I'm sorry! As usual, school has been taking up all of that "free time" I once had. As a bit of a thank you for sticking with me, this chapter is the longest I've written yet. Then again, not by too much…but I didn't want to drag out the vignette. If you read, please review, even if it's just a one-liner. I would especially appreciate any criticism, or things that you would like to see happen in future chapters. Thanks!

Chapter II: Hereditary Principalities

"The hereditary prince has less cause and less need to offend than a new one. Hence it follows that he is more readily loved."

Roshaun sniggered lightly at reading these words. This Machiavelli had obviously never been a hereditary prince. It was much more difficult than he made it out to be: Roshaun knew from experience.

Sometimes, when he'd been younger, he'd wished for the freedom of being ordinary, but the one lesson he had learned from his father was that he had a job to do and a people to serve, and that giving up the fight before it was over—before it even began, in Roshaun's case—didn't make sense. Then again, that unknowing advice was now hypocritical, seeing as his father had abdicated, leaving the world in the care of a king who was really barely more than a confused teenage boy. He had enough problems of his own, without adding the problems of a world onto them.

Besides, there was no way he could ever get his people to love him. He'd failed at that years ago.

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Roshaun waited silently behind the pillar of creamy marble, waiting for the group of nobles to pass by on the other side. It was his first trip to the other side of Wellakh, the one not burnt to a crisp by the ancient solar flare, but he hadn't seen much of it yet. His father had taken them by transport spell directly into the lavish house of the aristocrat he was forced by necessity to visit. Roshaun had been obligated to "play" with the aristocrat's silly daughter, who was years younger than him and spent the entire time asking him which of her toys he liked best.

But now he had only a few feet between him and freedom. The nobles passed, and Roshaun darted out from behind the pillar, entering the street below.

He had never been out on his own before. The palace was the only thing on the side of the planet he was normally confined to, so there hadn't been any "out" to explore.

It was a new feeling, freedom. The people in the streets might have glanced at him once or twice, but they went right back to their business, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. This lack of notice brought him a sense of pride. He'd "borrowed" the clothes of a servant's child, and bound back his hair in the style of most peasants in order to fit in, and it was working.

For a while Roshaun just wandered, taking in all of the sights. He was surprised by the trees and flowers that seemed to grow wherever earth was left bare. At the palace, such greenery was a luxury to be found only in the Sun Lord's private conservatory, but here commoners stopped and bent down to smell the opening blossoms or rested under the shade of the trees. Roshaun saw a smiling boy stoop down and pluck a flower from its stem, only to turn around and run back down the street to hand it to a woman who was obviously his mother. She smiled and hugged her son, settling the flower behind her ear as the boy smiled back.

The interaction he saw between people was a new thing as well. Back at his home, the courtiers and servants had been wary of showing any emotions. Roshaun's family was even more distant—he rarely saw any of his relatives, and his parents spoke about most of them in warning tones. But here, people laughed and chatted together openly while going about their business, seemingly without a care in the world.

Roshaun slowly moved towards a group of three young boys his age who seemed to be playing some sort of game on the sidewalk. Trusting his disguise to allow him to blend in, he stood a few feet away, pretending to be interested in the items in the shop window while listening to the boys' conversation.

"Did you really see him?" the smallest and youngest-looking asked eagerly of the others.

"I did," the eldest replied, "but I don't see why you're so excited."

"Why shouldn't I be? He's the prince!" the youngest one replied. Roshaun's stomach gave an odd jolt: they were talking about him. He sidled closer, trying not to look obvious.

"And they say he'll be king when his father dies," the middle boy added. "You should at least show a bit more respect, Kel."

"Respect for what?" Kel asked. "Because he was born into the right family? Is that really something to respect? What makes him any different, any better, than you or me?"

"But he's a prince," the youngest boy insisted stubbornly. "He's there to protect us."

"That's what you've always been told," Kel admitted, "but look at reality. What has he—or any of the royal family, for that matter—ever done to help us? They all sit in their palace on the other side of the world, living a life of luxury."

"It's not as easy as you think!" Roshaun said, realizing belatedly that he had drawn the boys' attention. They were now looking straight at him.

"Who are you to know that?" Kel questioned.

Thinking fast, Roshaun replied, "My friend's mother used to work at the palace, as a maid. She saw all sorts of things—assassination attempts, political plots. The entire world expects things of y—of the royal family," Roshaun caught his slip just in time. "Don't you think that that much responsibility would be hard to bear?"

"You don't see them offering to give it up, though, do you?" Kel retorted. "If it's really that hard, why don't they just all quit?"

"Maybe they can't!" Roshaun yelled, angered by this foolish commoner who knew nothing of palace life. "Maybe quitting isn't a choice for them! You said it yourself, they're just people, and yet so much responsibility is heaped on them!"

"Yeah, sure," Kel said skeptically. "I'm thinking that you see things I don't. I wouldn't mind being Sun Lord—I'd actually make things better for us here. The royal family can't do anything for the common people because they don't know what it's like to be a common person. I say that one of us needs to take over and set things right."

The middle boy, who had been listening all this time, spoke up. "That's a great idea, Kel, but there's one small problem—you're not a wizard. What if something happens to our sun again? Fixing it may be the only thing the king's good for. It's not something you'd see me volunteering to do. Let 'em have their royalty—they don't have much else."

"I guess," Kel said before turning to Roshaun. "What's your name? I haven't seen you around here before, have I?"

Belatedly, Roshaun remembered that Kel had admitted to seeing him—probably when he and his father were being escorted to the noble's house. Apparently his current disguise wasn't as good as he'd thought. "I have to go," he said evasively. "My dad will be worried." And he turned and hurried off down the street, almost running, wanting to get away from those boys and the conversation he'd heard.

He had always known that the nobles hated him for his prestige, but he had never thought that his people might as well.