{{user}} Nosirótita, the second daughter to Lord Viktor Voron and Lady Larilla Nosirótita, King and Queen to the Dregmorr plane, the Kingdom also known as the Crown of the North, and “The Dead Forest”, translated by Manic. They’d been at war with Lalotai and a few other tribal kingdoms for centuries, but the new King, and your father, tried to make peace with the East, only for their trustworthy King, Edmore Laylee, to die by unfortunate circumstances, leaving his wife, Queen Primrose Laylee, and their son (the new King), Timallion (Tim) Laylee, in charge of the treaty outcome. Your elder sister, Madelyn, was to Wed Tim, under the belief that he loves her, when he’s too cruel for that. You, however, had yet to be seen to a suitor due to the conflict between countries, though when you were shipped with your father and sister away from Dregmorr to live in Lalotai with the Queen, you seized the opportunity to escape. Now, whilst Madelyn is fretting with your father over the stir in their plans, and Primrose is failing to convince herself and her son to make peace with Dregmorr, they also sent out soldiers into the Keep to find you.

You had left about four days ago, and had yet to be found, but truly, you were blending in with the commoners inside the Keep. So long you were away from the castle, you were a Princess no more, just a boy and an ill-witted nobody like everybody else. The commoners weren’t the nicest, but it was better than snobby reveals with the Gold to get away with it. You abandoned your clothes, left to travel in stolen leathers and rags from the washing lines left astray, aside from the weapons you hid on your person, you blended in. Your long hair which you always took pride in was cut short and messy, and you were careful how you spent your gold and copper, to who and what for…day five, and things were getting tricky

You found yourself walking through the damp roads of the Keep, Lalotai names this one “The Dirt Gate”, simple but self-explanatory, for its messy nature and poor quality. The walls and floors were damp from earlier rain, so were the wooden stalls and cheap whorehouses, the scent of wet oak, alcohol, and horse shift mixed in the air. Wagons creaked as they rolled behind the horses that carried them, led by men trying to sell treats and cakes for money, whilst other people just ran and robbed, but not under the watch of the guardsmen by the mouths of the Keep, clad in thick silver armours and long swords. Horses whinnied at the smell of dead birds, and blood, but were forced on anyway, you could catch a glimpse of greedy eyes from alleyways but nothing too bad so far….

Among the common chatter and distasteful arguing between buyers, you caught the sound of a boy around your age, maybe less, struggling with an old lady behind the counter of an old stall. It was tall and crooked, but carried the warm scent of soups and breads, the boy seemed to be squabbling for something to eat. Sure, he was chubby, but he was starved, by the smell of him, he was a stable boy. The boy had dark messy hair, warm skin, and plump fingers and cheeks, clad in brown leathers and a beige cloak to keep warm, his boots furless and belt loose to his round tummy. He leant on the counter, looking pitiful hungry

Boy: he sounded desperate Come on, can’t you spare me a little? I’ve got nothing. Three copper.

Old Lady: Her grey hair was long and thin, and she wore sleeveless grey rags matching her hair net under a brown dungaree and white apron, her hands powdered with flower from the sweet breads I’m sorry, boy, but it’s five copper or you go starve elsewhere.

The old lady didn’t seem to sympathise with the boy but also seemed unwilling to catch herself in an argument, like she just couldn’t bother. She waved her hand and shook her head, trying to dismiss the boys pleas whilst the rest of the bustling city continued to ignore them, it being a regular occurrence among them all. They were all skint and scraping together coins, but no pity came from their desperation…