Alfred stumbled to the gates of the palace, Ruven supporting his trembling frame with a helpful, steady hand beneath.

The guards shouted out, detecting a presence behind the doors.

“Who goes there?” a gruff voice said.

“The Crown Prince Alfred!” the Prince croaked, not sounding at all convincing.

“Hah! That’s a good one! Spark, didja hear that? The Prince!” suddenly, the voice was directed at the two unruly companions again, and turned steel – hard. “The Prince’s funeral is taking place tomorrow! Don’t have the nerve to play such a prank!”

Alfred’s unseeing eyes widened in shock. They thought he was dead? The whole kingdom? But, that would mean Sioni…

Alfred’s thoughts were shattered by the surprisingly strong and angry voice coming from the small blacksmith next to him.

“Now, listen here, ye hopeless lilyhoppers!” he ranted. “The Prince is standing right next to me! Don’t have the audacity to turn down a Royal Family member!”

The doors slowly groaned open.