The Rusty Horseshoe

You approach the third guardsman, his companions falling into line behind you as he guides the group through the palace corridors; eventually leading out onto the great arching bridge that connecting the castle to the surrounding city. For a brief moment, you find yourself glancing back at your childhood home...a bit off-put at the idea of leaving your life of royal privilege for the hard road of an adventurer. But they're soon blasted out of your mind by the sheer energy and racket as your little group works it's way through the city center. It takes you and your men's full attention to make a path through the crowds of merchants, tourists, and day-laborers. The sight fades further and further into the distance as you make your way out of the (relative) tidiness and organization of the central city...finding yourself hugging closer to your guards as you enter into one of the less...savory districts. The dark shapes looking out at you from the alleyways make you feel a little paranoid, while even at this time of day of few of the streetwalkers were plying their trade, forcing you to keep your eyes trained right ahead: hand never far from your dagger.

Eventually though, your escort points the tip of his spear towards one of the dingy structures lining the road. It probably looked a lot more homely at one point but the paint and wood were both starting to chip away, giving it an almost tired appearance. From inside, you can hear the normal drunken racket of journeymen and laborers taking their lunch, packed tightly around a number of roundish tables. And, even through the filth in the window pane, you can just make out an elevated stage in the back and a faintly feminine shape standing on it: the place on which most of the customer's eyes were focused. You open the door with a loud creek, the scent and extent of the noise washing over you like it had a mass of it's own as you and one of your guards step inside to get a closer look.

Peaking the heads of the crowd, you see the woman directing the act. From the sheer flashiness of her costume, one might assume she was some kind of family friendly carnival performer, though she could certainly appeal to a different audience with the 'assets' her dress strained to hold in. She's looking down on a pair of marionettes below; carefully moving the control bars as a pair of boy and girl puppets clattered across the stage. Besides the normal tavern clientele, there was also a dirty collection of their children and street orphans, huddled near the front and happily watching the show of a joyously-smiling puppeteer...it was certainly enough to warm your heart.

"And so," she announced during a lull in the noise: her voice surprisingly loud for her small size. "And so, the brave Prince Ridley and his lovely companion managed to escape the imprisonment of the dreaded demon of Greed known as Avaritia, eluding all his fierce and nasty monsters and guiding her safely back to the village." It was only now you realize the boy puppet was dressed up exactly like yourself...even built almost exactly to your proportions. 'It's not like people don't know what you look like... I'm a prince after all' you try to rationalize to yourself: the girl puppet disappearing behind a now-standing drinker before you can get a good look at her. "And so the two lovers were free to continue their journey... but what adventures awaited them on the uncharted trails ahead. Well..." The puppeteer snapped her hands back and forward again, sending her puppets into a bow and (you presume) curtsy. "You'll all just have to wait until tomorrow, won't you?"

Within moments, the whole house was on their feet and giving their applause; coppers and silvers flying through the air and onto the stage as payment. It takes both you and your guard to make a way through the mob of excited drinkers...taking extra care not to do anything that might start a bar fight and frighten your companion off, the puppeteer on her knees and sweeping up the day's earnings by the time you manage to make it up to her. For a time, you stand silently; trying and failing to pick out the girl puppet she'd been using among the dozens hooked on what could only be described as the impromptu rack on her shoulders: the dolls softly clattering together whenever she moved. They were all so...well painted. Almost eerily so for a common stage performer. How on earth had she been able to afford such high quality tools...

"It's alright to say hi." You find yourself getting caught staring, the girl hopping down from the stage with a dress pocket (and, as you can see peaking out, a bodice) full of coins. While you try for a response, though, she walks clear past you; playfully poking at your guard's breastplate. "No need to be shy. I'm always happy to talk to a fan. Especially one as handsome as you." You look on quizzically from a few feet away: the guard stumbling over his words as his eyes shot back and forth between you and the girl.

"Miss Phoebe," he finally addresses her after deeply clearing his throat, speaking extra-professional to hide how flustered he was. "You're...very kind. But I have to inform you it's in very poor taste to make jest of the Royal House."

Phoebe tilted her head curiously at this. "Jest? But I'm not making anything up. His Majesty IS supposed to be going adventuring soon with a beautiful female companion. The royal messengers told me so." Only now does she turn to you. "That's true, isn't it, or don't you think I'm pretty?" You can see the silliness in her smile...one you remember wearing quite often yourself, and can't help but offer her the same roguish look in response.

"A lady doesn't fish for compliments, Phoebe. But nice try." You congratulate her, bumping your fists together in greetings. "But I will say your show was stunning. At least the end of it." You reach up, holding you own puppet delicately. "So, which of these lovely ladies is this lucky guy paired up with?"

Her smile only widens, revealing a shining, toothy grin. "Wouldn't you like to know." She giggled as she placed the puppet back in place. "I'll tell you what...when you give me an answer to my question, I'll answer yours." You decided to end it there, figuring that's fair as she pulls a pair of silver coins from her chest.

"Malik, two of your best for my friends here." She orders, the barkeep having soon poured three mugs of...some kind of sweet-smelling drink. You and Phoebe sit across from on another, finding your eyes constantly drawn to the puppets swaying off your shoulder as you start to wonder what exactly what's so special about her...