The Prince’s Advisor

“James,” I yell, kicking my heels into the hind of my mare, “stop, you i***t! We crossed the border nearly a quarter mile ago!” He pays me no mind, not even turning his head around as his horse continues to run right in the direction it shouldn’t be going. Asshole. I think to myself. My mare, a pretty gray thing on the smaller side that I call Sadie, is no match for his beastly stallion- aptly called Skullcrusher. Skullcrusher, despite his and James’ best efforts, hasn’t managed to lose me and Sadie quite yet, but I’ve been slowly watching the two of them get smaller and smaller in the distance. I’d thought James was joking when he said he wanted to see the border, but after he’d started running, and more importantly didn’t stop running, five miles ago, I realized he’d committed himself to yet another stupid idea. James always does this kind of thing, and he always gets away with it because, no matter how much slower Sadie is than Skullcrusher, she always manages to catch up eventually. And, when Sadie catches up, that means that I’ve arrived to save the day…again. Just when Skullcrusher’s black, whipping tail disappears from my view, I hear a man’s voice cry out in the distance. “Come on, Sadie.” I say, whipping her reins against her neck, “Let’s see what he’s fallen into.” The poor little beast is already covered in sweat from her efforts, but I feel her pick up a little in the direction of the cry. When we arrive at where what I would like to imagine as a rather guilty looking Skullcrusher is pacing, I see that James hasn’t fallen into anything, but rather been swept up in what looks to be a net. James’ face is crushed against the side of the net, which is attached to a large tree above him and is swinging from the force of the trapping. “You’re lucky that didn’t catch Skully, horses don’t heal as well as people, you know.” Through the slats in the net, I can see James smile a bit. “That’s all you're worried about?” He asks, “I could’ve died, you know.” I pull a knife from the pack on my saddle and walk over to the base of the tree to begin climbing. “If you did,” I say, grunting a little from the effort of pulling myself into the tree, “it would simply mean significantly less work for me.” “Oh you don’t mean that.” He says, turning a little so he can watch my ascent. “You’d be bored without me.” I don’t answer. I’m almost to the point where the net is tied to the tree when a voice comes from below us. “You’re a long way from home, your majesty.” The man at the base of the tree is dressed in a black coat and black boots, his hair is white as snow. Thinking quickly, I cut the net from the tree which causes James to fall clumsily on the ground in front of the man. I then jump down between them, facing the stranger with my best innocently confused expression. “You think this is a noble, good sir?” I ask. The man laughs, there’s a mean sparkle in his eye that doesn’t sit well with me. “A girl too? Where’d you come from?” I bite my lip to avoid asking him why exactly there would be two horses waiting for one person. “The tree sir, I’m just out on a ride with my brother here…” The man interrupts me, “The prince doesn’t have any siblings.” “The prince, sir?” I try to look surprised. “This is no prince, this is my brother…” I pause for just a moment, in case he heard me call James’ name earlier, “Jameson Shepard, sir, son of Richard Shepard. Our flock stays on yonder Greater Mountain.” “Yonder?” The man says, smirking at me now. “You’re but a simple farm girl, with a simple farm boy as a brother, is that what you’re trying to tell me?” “Yes sir,” I say, “I don’t understand why you don’t believe me.” “Well.” The man says, leaning his body over mine and squinting his eyes. He’s easily a foot taller than me, and he’s trying to use that to intimidate me. I do my best to cower in response, that’s what I figure a ‘simple farm girl’ would do. “Three reasons lead me to believe that you’re lying to me.” “Whatever could those be?” I ask. “The first,” he says smugly, “is the horses. You’ve got two fine animals here, pristine really. He gestures towards Skullcrusher, “This one especially, what a majestic beast. Jet black, muscular, and easily seventeen hands tall. He’d cost at least ten-thousand gold coins.” “We traded for them.” I shrug. “It cost quite a few sheep, but we got them as foals and raised them up and broke them ourselves.” “Second,” he says, turning dramatically on his heel and stepping around me, towards James, “the two of you are in no-man’s land, between the warring kingdoms of Ragolia and Fankun, which you would know even if you were but simple mountain folk.” I don’t have a chance to answer this as he continues. “And third, and most damning if you ask me,” he takes another step towards James and it takes everything in me not to bring out my knife and slit his throat, “is that your sweet, simple, farm boy brother has a shiny little fake leg. Now, how could a family of humble sheep farmers possibly afford such a procedure?” He gestures to James, who’s still sitting in the net. His prosthetic leg looks to have gotten snagged in the net’s holes, which forces me to suppress a giggle. He looks so far from royalty like this that I’m surprised anyone could possibly recognize him. I look down at James’ face, which looks annoyingly unworried. He’s probably thinking about what we’re going to be served for dinner tonight. He knows he’s not supposed to say anything in these situations, but sometimes I wish he cared enough about anything to try. “He was born without it, sir.” I say, feigning emotion. “Our family saved until his tenth birthday to have the smith make it for him.” “You have a blacksmith up on yonder Greater Mountain?” He asks, tilting his head to the side with an infuriatingly superior little smile. I can’t help but roll my eyes as I answer, “No, sir, we had to travel down into Ragolia and find a blacksmith willing to do it there.” There’s a brief pause as the strange man pauses to examine me closely. He holds a hand out to James and helps him up, even stooping to unsnag the net from around James’ silver leg. “I’m tempted to believe you, if you can prove something to me.” The man turns to me. “Do you have both legs, dear farm sister?” Relief tinged with a fleck of disappointment floods through my body, we’re in the clear now. No violence seems to be needed, though it would’ve been nice to put this prick in his place. I lift up my riding pants to reveal two fleshy ankles, “All mine.” I say. The man nods approvingly. “Good for you.” To my surprise, he lifts up his pants to show me the same. “Men like him, ” he says, “will never know what it’s like to be us.” I nod. “To no fault of his own, though,” I say, “that’s my solace.” The man nods at me again, but says nothing. I get the feeling that he doesn’t really believe me, it would be difficult for anyone to not recognize the leg for what it is-pure silver. Especially someone that hangs out in the no man’s land all the time waiting for unwitting people to stumble into his traps. So why doesn’t he rob the farm boy? Probably because he knows that this man is no farm boy.