Alfred was absolutely fuming; this man wouldn’t believe he was the Crown Prince…wait, now that he thought about it, he wouldn’t believe himself either. He sighed, and tried to think of something that would prove his identity.

He scuffled around, and the man that he now knew as Ruven looked at him curiously. Alfred’s eyes stung, but he continued rummaging through his tattered clothing.

His hand clasped around something familiar. A swell of triumph erupted in his chest, and he took the gleaming object out of his pocket.

“I am the Crown Prince,” he muttered, and showed the Royal Crest to Ruven, the gold catching the rays of the sun and glinting regally.

“Bloomin’ pixies!” the man said, taking off his hat in respect. “The Prince ain’t dead!”