Prince Elime Dunham wore indistinguishable peasant clothing and a cape with a deep hood to hide his features. Despite his wicked disposition, his gray eyes sat in a slightly pudgy face. His blond hair fell into ringlets just above his ears and his pale skin gave away his northern heritage. The prince was heir to the throne of Sezlea; the kingdom residing in the far north. Elime was of normal height, but he held himself as a man with great power and confidence.
To avoid being recognized, he pulled the hood close around his face when he neared villagers as they walked from shop to shop on the dry road, kicking up dust in their wake. The noonday sun was intolerably harsh in his eyes, and he had slowed his horse to a canter to dismount. He walked beside the large beast as he took in the small village. Sweat dripped between his shoulder blades down to his lower back.
The monstrous castle of Horbling, the largest of the five Kingdoms residing in the country of Ferrum, loomed in the distance and he longed to have it for his own The Prince continued his walk on the border just inside Bricane; The southernmost and hottest of the five Kingdoms.
He looked around, trying to familiarize himself. He had been here before when he was a small child, carted around by his father’s royal processional, announcing his birth, even though he was nearly eight years old at the time. Now he found himself here again at the age of sixteen. He spotted the small tavern that employed his first contact.
He sought a forbidden poison.
Ferrum law forbade alchemy and other magic. Any involved with their practice were tried and beheaded. The Prince had gone to great lengths to secure a meeting with one of the last surviving alchemist masters.
The prince tied his horse to a post outside a rickety-looking tavern. He scrunched his nose at the potent smell of sweat and grime that seemed to radiate from his clothing. He had crossed five Kingdoms and would have to find a bath as soon as this meeting concluded. He checked the knot he made on his horse’s reigns and slipped inside amid a lively bunch of patrons.
The dining hall was small, well, compared to his Palace dining hall. Cold coals filled a large hearth at one end. He gave a huff at the surrounding walls that bore small, poorly stuffed animals, so unlike his Castle. His walls not only had massive animals of different species but also the weapons used to kill them. Spears, long bows, swords, axes, and others lined the rooms meticulously. This display before him seemed pitiful.
From an empty table towards the back of the room, he ordered a large ale from the waitress. Her potent perfume hit him like a bouquet of roses being thrown at his face. He winked at her when she returned, bowing deep in front of him to drop the large mug in front of him. His calloused hand made a rasping sound over her smooth forearm as he asked for a boy named Will. She moved to the backroom, swaying her hips from side to side provocatively. Perhaps, after all this was done, he would stop by and bed her. He never was too particular about who he slept with.
A short while later, a thin, nervous young man approached. He smelled of hay and other indistinguishable things better not thought of. Elime chuckled at the sight of him.
“Will? I presume,” he said amused.
“Yes, Sir.”
"I was told you know where I could find a man named Esmec,” he said, and wiped away a small amount of ale that landed on the Prince’s tunic.
"Esmec, Wh-What do you want with him? He’s done nothing wrong." Will’s voice cracked.
Elime would have admired the young lad’s attempt at bravery, but he wasn’t in the mood for it.
"Personal matters I do not wish to discuss with you," Elime sat forward and grabbed the boy’s arm in an agitated huff.
The young man’s arm trembled under Elime’s hand.
The corner of his lip curled into a smile. Elime relished in his ability to generate fear in others. To conjure up a bit more anxiety, the Prince lifted a dagger out from underneath his tunic and rolled the hilt around in his fingers.
Will, became rigid.
"Would you like to tell me where he is?” Elime asked in a playful tone as his eyes in no playful manner skipped over the boy’s face. “Or should I obtain my information by other means?”
"No, no sir,” Will said in a lower octave.
The boy continued to tell of where the Alchemist resided in a crackling voice. When he was done, The Prince allowed him to scuttle into the back room.
Elime slapped the waitress on her backside on his way out and gave her another wink. Thankfully, he didn’t have long to travel, and he could feel his patience starting to wear thin. This blasted heat was enough to set anyone’s nerves on end, although the small tavern was slightly cooler than it was outside. He gave a quiet growl as he left the tavern and headed into the bright hot sun.
***
Elime swore as he hit his head on an archway leading to a small, well-groomed garden. He’d found a nearby fence to tie his horse to and made his way to the house the boy described earlier. The vegetation was unfamiliar.
"This damn miserable heat," he barked wiped sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand.
As he reached the door, it opened to reveal a small man. Ancient symbols and designs were etched into the threshold’s wood. Not what he had expected from a man in hiding.
"Yes?" said the man, who stood no higher than the back of a normal chair. He looked young, his face was without a wrinkle, although the white hair and his cane spoke of many decades.
Elime cleared his throat. "I’m looking for a man named Esmec."
"Yes, of course, your Highness, I’ve been expecting you, do come in! And mind your head this time!" he snickered as he hobbled inside.
What appeared as a small cottage opened into an enormous home. It was full of light from many windows and furniture of all sizes and shapes. It had too much cheer for Elime’s taste. The ceilings were high, and the room smelled of an elusive aroma. The cloying incense tickled his nose. The little man disappeared beyond a door and returned with tea, bread, and fruit.
"You must be famished from your journey. Sit and eat," he said, and he motioned to the chair by the table where he’d sat the food.
"How do you know who I am? Who sent word of me?" Elime worked to keep his tone civil but didn’t quite keep all the irritation out.
"My boy, you are very curious. You doubt the power you came to seek? I knew you were coming, and I know why you’re here." Esmec leaned back in his chair and continued to study the Prince.
"Yes then, let’s get on with it!" The prince spat as his patience wore thin. Being civil to the townsfolk was new for him. And the heat did not help his mood. The blazing sun created a heat almost unbearable in Bricane, given the cold climate from where he came from.
Esmec leaned forward in his chair. "What you are seeking is powerful magic; this potion has to be given in the precise amount. You must practice the enchantment before implementing it. Otherwise, you can cause serious damage to yourself.”
The prince nodded, and kept his silence. Esmec glanced down at the floor. The Prince’s chest lunged as if his heart had been grabbed by a fist on the inside. What if he betrays me? There would be no royal exceptions, to Elime’s dabbling in magic, not in this Country. He was sure his father would leave him in the dungeons to teach him a lesson or two. He should kill Esmec; put an end to the worry. But, he was too valuable being one of the last Alchemists; the Prince might have a use for him in the years to come. Elime was brought out of his thoughts when Esmec jumped up from his chair and spoke.
"Once this is done, it cannot be undone, my Prince.”
Esmec walked over and opened another door. Colored lights beamed out like a fireworks display. He disappeared into the hues and then returned to the prince. He handed him a vial and a small scroll.
Elime threw a pouch of coins on the table. “This is for the potion and this..." He threw another pouch down. "This is for your silence,” he barked.
"You have my word, your Majesty." Esmec lowered his head.
The Prince got up quickly, not wanting to spend any more time with Esmec in this strange place. When he opened the front door, Esmec yelled, "Wait!"
Esmec hobbled towards a wall. As he approached, a door billowed up from the baseboard arching and waving fluidly until it reached the correct height for Esmec to enter. He swiftly turned the oval knob and went inside coming out with another scroll, slightly bigger than the last. "Take this, destinies are not always such mysteries,” he said.
Elime stared, grabbed the rolled parchment and slammed the door behind him. He reached the horse and threw the scroll into his pack. Irate and tired, he untied his horse looking back to see a small cottage, with a much different door. His head spun as he tried to understand the perplexing cottage that now stood as high as a sapling.
He shook his head. "Crazy lunatic, If I’ve wasted my time, this whole village will burn.”
The Prince guided his steed and started his long journey back to his Kingdom. Although the situation annoyed him, he had retrieved what he was looking for. He curled his lip into a menacing smirk. Perhaps he had time to visit that voluptuous waitress before he went on his way.