An Exiled Prince

It was Saturday morning, market day in Artica’s city. The place was swarmed with buyers and vendors, from all corners. Now all assembled in this circus of colour, noise and smells. Before Artica had been distinguished as an independent city state. It had originally been part of a far larger country, known as Sakona. Due to its enormity, an open rebellion had started. With a number of smaller kingdoms forming and vying for power and control. King Calabrin, who now sat the throne. Was the descendant of those that had formed Artica’s Kingdom, based on their superior military prowess. They kept Sakona’s previous jewel of a city as their own capital, naming the city state after it. A number of other kingdoms also sprung up, over the following years. Vastikar to the north, Belis across the sea to the east, Midrelm to the west and Tanar in the far south. Each were now recognised as separate powers. With different rulers, laws, languages and beliefs. Riven was born in the wild lands of Tanar. Filled with huge rainforests, exquisite plants and thunderous waterfalls. It was to this beautiful land that she owed her exotic appearance. Jet black hair, olive skin and piercing green eyes. The same green eyes she had passed on to her young son Jarvis. Who now clutched to her hand, as they made their way through the chaos. Disturbingly, all was not well. Shortly before Jarvis’ birth, she had been forced to flee from her homeland to Artica. Having been marked for death. Her husband gone and her brother Aiden, foolish enough to have signed up for the military, now lost, or dead abroad. Without any word, she found herself alone, in her time of desperate need. It was her hope that the bounty hunters would not find her and her sweet child, half a world away. But word travels fast, too fast. The markets in Artica were always a spectacle. She had filled her bag to the brim with deliciously sweet treats, that she and her son could share, once they returned home. Still having not grasped the concept of haggling, she was sure she had paid ten times, that of the true value of the items. Back in Tanar, items were labelled with set prices. That made things far easier and far more civilized. Riven did not care for such things though. There was no price that could be placed, on seeing the joy on the face of your own child. Jarvis was four now and growing fast. It seemed only yesterday when she had first seen him. When he was screaming and squirming, as he came into this world. Jarvis was like her very own shadow. They did everything together. Particularly since her brother, who was living with them previously, had left in vain hope of glory and reputation. With nobody around to support, or guide her any longer. She had always strived to be the very best version of herself and teach her son, as she believed one should be taught. One day she hoped, he would be an admirable young man. Of late, Riven had developed a resounding feeling that she was being watched, or followed. Everywhere she went, hushed whisperings could be heard. As though even those around her, knew her days were numbered. She did her best not to show her worry to her son, as any good mother would. Despite this, Jarvis was incredibly perceptive. She could feel the grip on her hand from his tiny fingers tighten, as her own anxiousness rose. As she glanced back, just before taking a sharp bend. She noticed a small group of hooded figures. Four or five perhaps, some way back. It was nothing, she tried to remind herself. But could feel her heart already palpitating, filled with concern. It was not uncommon for people to travel in groups, dangerous times as these were. Something about the look on their faces however, caused Riven to quicken her pace. Jarvis, noticing his mother’s haste, also tried to quicken his speed to match her. His tiny legs working overtime to keep up, as he was half dragged along. Behind her, she heard items being knocked over in the narrow bazaar. Which she had just come out of, confirming her fears. She was, as she dreaded, being pursued. Riven ran with all haste. Scattering an ornate collection of pots and jars containing spices, in her wake. As she darted through the cramped markets. Jarvis too was running; he was exceptionally fast for his age. He giggled and smiled as he ran alongside her, as though they were playing a game. Not at all sensing their mortal peril, that they could be in. Riven threw away her bag of sweets, fruits and vegetables, she had acquired. Hoping in vain that one of her pursuers may trip over it, while casting aside the excess weight, slowing her down. She gathered Jarvis up in her arms and sprinted, as fast as she could. The market had turned into pure chaos, as the pursuit in broad daylight captured the attention of the various onlookers. Not one of them, daring to come to her aid. With no hope of outrunning the group, she knew that she would have to outwit them. Cunning as she could be. She feigned, as if she were about to take a right, back into the dense market and then ran to an alleyway to the left. Sweat already gathered on her face. It dripped down her forehead, on this scorching summer day, causing her eyes to sting. Riven’s flowy linen dress billowed behind her, as she tried to make good her escape. Cursing herself for her inadequate choice of outfit, for such circumstances. Still fairly unfamiliar with the area, she caught sight of a book shop, she recognised. Having been in a number of times before, she burst through the door with all haste.