Queen Adora III of Terra de Ferro

"Well," you say, "I believe it might be best to form an alliance with Terra de Ferro. Their weapons are second to none, they have an equal or greater fleet than Doğruluk, and their mercenary army is supposedly highly effective."

"To be honest," mother said, "that is what we were hoping you would say. The Queen is wealthy enough that you will never want for anything. You will be able to live a life of luxury." This comment infuriates you. You enjoy living as the common people do. It is a royal's duty to lead, not to take unfair benefit by stealing from those below them. However, you say nothing at all because at least she is agreeing with you, even if not for the same reasons.

"Besides," father says, "they say she is the most beautiful woman in her entire kingdom. It is good to wake up beside one of the most beautiful women in the world each morning." As he says this he looks toward your mother and she blushes. You feel somewhat awkward being there.

"Let us get back to dinner. Immediately after we can write back to Queen Adora accepting her proposal," mother smiles at the knowledge that her son will be marrying her first choice in spouses.

After dinner all three of you head to the rookery and write out a letter to Queen Adora III Of Terra de Ferro (actually you write six letters total, but you threw out five of them for, respectively, a mistake in the Queen's many titles, a noticeable splatter of ink, writing much too small in an attempt to squeeze in the entire message on a certain piece of vellum, a potentially scandalous mistake in your signature, and a misshapen seal). You put the letter in a small case and tie it to the leg of a messenger raven dedicated to communications with Terra de Ferro and throw the bird out the window. Immediately after the bird leaves your hand you realize that now that you have accepted her proposal Adora III officially your fiancee. You are engaged! And due to the pace of travel you might first meet her in person a year from now!

In an attempt at distraction you begin to pack up, filling a large trunk with the essentials: a whetstone and oil for your longsword, a razor, a polished copper mirror, a shaving basin, several pairs of boots, three cloaks, and about two weeks worth of clothes. Your next task will be much more difficult; telling your people you will be leaving them. That night you slept poorly. Despite knowing that this is best for your people, you are frightened and saddened by the prospect of leaving your home forever. You will never again work on your family's land, getting it ready for planting and reaping. No longer will you be able to picnic in the mountains, collecting wildflowers on the journey back to liven up the castle. You are also nervous about being married to Queen Adora III. She has lived her life in luxury, with the greatest tutors money can afford. Will she resent being saddled with a prince used to living like a farmhand? And if she does accept you, will living like her make you unable to relate to your own people, no longer able to understand the common person and therefore be unable to rule effectively?

The next morning you try to banish all of the doubts of last night while you check on the livestock and crops and subsequently drew up your bath, a copper tub filled with spring water you had collected, then placed by the hearth to warm.

Bathes had always cleared your head in the past and it worked again today. While you don't know what life as part of this new country will be like, you know that you will be able to endure it, for you will forever work to the good of your people, just as all your ancestors had.

You go down to break your fast where your parents are waiting. They seem happy and content, as if they had gotten a wonderful night's sleep assured by the knowledge that they did the right thing. You, on the other hand, couldn't sleep more than an hour at a time, haunted by nightmares and doubts about what you have done. You fill your waiting plates with blackberries, your stomach upset. From the pitcher you pour out rich creamy milk, which you had collected this morning during chores, into the waiting goblet. During the meal mother and father just chittered happily. You know that you are making the right decision, but you can't help but feel like you are making a mistake.

Two weeks pass and a beautiful dove comes to the castle with a message from Queen Adora. Whenever you first open the messenger case a piece of cloth falls out. It looks like someone tried to stitch back together tears that only they could see and did not, in fact, know how to sew. Shrugging, you set the odd trinket aside and pull out the message itself. "We are ecstatic that you have agreed to be our husband. We have sent guards to your palace. They will escort you to our castle on the coast. We look forward to our marriage. Post Script: I hope that you might take this silk handkerchief we have embroidered with our own hands. You look again and realize that the random stitch could sort of look like your family crest (a plow, pick, and ax inside a copper circle) if you squinted and turned your head. Although the work is quite terrible, you think it rather sweet that the Queen would personally embroider a handkerchief for you.

Alas, no longer can you deny the fact that you will be leaving your home as the engagement is now officially recognized by both parties. You take a few days to prepare your speech to the country, a speech you procrastinated on writing in the absurd hope that Adora III might have changed her mind and you would be able to stay with your people.

In a few days you have prepared five copies of the speech for criers to tell all of the villages spread around your kingdom. You look down from the small platform build for your oration and look upon the curious people of the local town. Forcing down tears, you begin your speech.

"My friends and countrymen, for yes, I hope that each of you might think of me as friend, not merely ruler, I must leave this, the country of my birth. In about one full cycle of the moon I will have to do my duty, no matter how difficult it will be to see the mountains grow small in the distance. As you may well know, our country is caught between four strong empires who threaten to tear us apart. Thankfully, I have accepted a proposal from the ruler of the Terra de Ferro, Queen Adora III," At this point many in the crowd began to whisper, probably thinking about the luxuries you will have or how lucky you are to marry such a beautiful queen. The ones who you interacted with frequently such as the butcher, your instructor in the way of the longsword, the candle-maker and the tailor stayed silent because they knew you well enough to understand what a sacrifice this truly is for you. "I think this alliance will provide us the protection we need to survive this great conflict. I do not regret anything about this marriage, for the King, Queen, and I all think this is in the best interest of the kingdom. But know this my friends, even if I never again step foot in the moors or peat bogs in our country, if I never again hear the song of wind through our mountains, if I cannot feel the pride of working our rocky soil anymore, even then I will be thinking about you and trying my best to do all that I can for the great land of Creagachtír. Though my body may leave, my heart will remain with you until my dying breath!"

You almost collapse after this, feeling like you had carried a millstone up the mountains by yourself, not like one who had just given a speech. Your father steps onto the platform and holds you discretely, not wanting the crowd to see you falter. "Well, my subjects," he cries, "I believe we have taken up enough of your time today. Thank you for coming to hear my son today."

All that is left is to wait for the journey itself.

Over the few remaining weeks at home you say your goodbyes to the people you know and hike to try to soak in enough of the beautiful country to last you a lifetime away. You are so distracted that you can't even focus on your lessons in the native tongue of the Queen.

Finally, you receive a message that the guards who will be protecting you have entered the immediate area, so you get into your most regal clothes, ones which you had only had to stitch back together once. Then you take your bronze crown off your shelf and quickly try to polish it, especially the bluestone inlays. After that, you step outside the walls of your only home to await the riders.

As the party approaches you attempt to get a good view. The first thing you notice is the dim sunlight reflecting off of something metallic. Once they come a bit closer you realize the shine comes from steel breastplates. You know that these guards most likely aren't trying to show off, but those breastplates represent enormous wealth in your own iron-deprived nation. You turn your focus to the guards themselves to try and see who you will be spending the next season with. They all wear shocking clothing, drawing the eye to them with their dyed uniforms. Although you know that other nobles wore dyed cloth, you had never worn it yourself due to its high cost and complete lack of utility. Nevertheless, it is an outrageous display of the wealth of Terra de Ferro, with garments as red as the mountain roses, deep blues like the berries which grow in the summer, and one man even had clothing dyed to match the color of foxglove with gold accents. You notice out of the corner of your eye a group of men and women in plain undyed tunics and frocks, similar to your own, riding donkeys. You are fairly sure that they are servants, meaning that your guards demanded to travel in luxury, a sure sign that you probably will not like these people.

The man in purple and gold looks down at you from about fifteen paces away. "Greetings, Prince." You feel his amusement as her draws out the word prince. "I am Viscount Escobar. Please hurry and change out of those peasant clothes into your own. We would like to leave this sad country as soon as possible and get back to civilization." You grit your teeth and yourself to not say anything which you would regret. "These are my clothes." The Viscount replies, "Well, I suppose even poor nobility is still nobility. Now, have your servants fetch your things so we might be off." To emphasize his point, and more likely to show off his bejeweled golden ring, he waves his hands around. Yet again you do not deem to reply to him. Instead, you pick up your chest and hold it asking, "Where should I put my luggage?" "You shouldn't be putting it anywhere, your servants should. As is, just place it on the cart behind me." You walk around all of the guards, who you now figure to be dim witted minor nobles, to the servants and place the chest on the cart. You turn to the peasants, motion them closer, then whisper "Though I am not sure about your masters, to you I extend a warm welcome on behalf of Creagachtír to you." You look each of them in the eye before walking back to your former position.

Recognizing the need to be a gracious host you ask, "Would all of you wish for a meal?" Again the Viscount smirked, "I am afraid your plain food would must likely upset out appetites, so I must refuse." Out of the corner of your eye you see some of the servants looking as if they were desperately wanting some supper. An idea forming in your head, with false regret you say, "I am very sorry to be unable to help. Fortunately, I think your hardworking servants would most likely not be offended by our measly offerings. Come inside, enjoy a warm castle and some food I will make for you." One or two step forward before the Viscount deliberately places his hand upon his scabbard and says with venom in his words, "Your generosity knows no bounds, good prince. Unfortunately, in your new home country it is thought to be unseemly and unspeakably rude for a noble to personally prepare food for the servants of another noble. We wouldn't want them getting any foolish ideas about servant-master relations in their heads," at this he turns and looks at the servants, assuring them that they are naturally meant to be ruled with his eyes, "It would confuse their inferior minds. Thank you ever so kindly for the offer, but we must unfortunately decline. I see that you have packed up your belongings, quite easily in fact. Packing light for the journey? That is quite commendable. Now, let proceed to Terra de Ferro and once again return to civilization." Turning to you he smiles, "No offense meant of course." You offer a smile of your own and reply, "Of course."

You turn to your mother and father, both of whom look shocked by this exchange, and hug them, knowing that it will be quite a while before you see them again.