Shifting from the shadows to see the prince was an everyday occurrence for Yarla. He was unaware she was there—though that, too, was an everyday occurrence—but irrelevant to her true desire.
Navigating his belief that he would be undercover as a normal person was a challenge. She cautioned him that being a commoner was too low and unworthy of the prince for anyone to believe, judging by the way he held himself and spoke. Yet he yielded and settled for a more feasible and believable cover: a rich merchant’s son traveling abroad.
The prince’s excitement was infectious, and the staff loved seeing him smile—a nice change from his brooding, no matter how much they praised his diligence and power.
The prince seemed stuck trying to prove himself to unseen people who had never disapproved of him. He kept insisting that wasn’t what it was about, but then kept searching for what they all assumed was validation—no matter how many times they gave it freely.
She watched the prince—whose name was Rylan. Most were careful not to utter it to him, as he often frowned upon hearing it. Most assumed it was due to not respecting his rank as prince and being too bold to try to get close, but in reality, he just hated his own name, seeing it as weak and unworthy—a name of legends, he wished he had a more fitting one. So he asked to be called Lan when given a choice.
Yet that was of little matter as she shifted away into the shadows ahead of the prince to control the narrative. They entered the street of the busy market fair they had been preparing for a week—to make sure only those they chose got to shop today, and that those who understood the prince’s desire for anonymity would treat him as an unknown rich merchant passing through.
They had wanted to avoid the whole thing, but Prince Rylan kept insisting he needed to travel from the court as a nobody for anyone to believe he ended up in a faraway town as one.
He also said it would build character and give him time to adapt to having no servants take care of himself. Yarla said it would be too much even for a rich merchant’s son to be alone in travels, so the prince relented ever so slightly, letting her stay by his side—which was good. It meant she did not need to keep hiding in shadows to make sure all followed the signals, and could openly shift topics the way they needed to play out.
The prince, hopefully, would not notice the signs. He had a cunning mind in battle, yet seemed to lack insight when it came to people and was oddly blind to his own.
Well, she would keep watching from the shadows. This wasn’t the first time she had guided the prince from behind. Let’s see if it goes as well as the other instances. Yarla flowed once more into the shadows with others watching from the sides, hoping to impress the prince with their humility and give him a pleasant time.
17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYKnI8DuMw4
====
The prince fixed his casual wear—not as fine as the silk he usually wore outside of training, but he found a nice soft wool he was told could be more commonly seen among merchants with money. He had tried a cheaper type, but it itched too much, so he figured he would settle for high-class commoner. Too low a standing would be suspicious if he was still seen with a servant when Yarla randomly appeared.
Addressing himself in the mirror, he smiled, checking his hair. He ruffled his blonde hair a bit, getting excited knowing he looked disheveled. He was tempted to wear his clothes poorly, but thought that was a step too far. He still had to be seen with class, just a lower one. He debated smudging dirt to try to look like he worked, but once more thought he was trying too hard to sell the idea he worked. No—he had to settle for being more of a traveling class.
Yes, that could work. A working merchant’s son as a traveler. That’ll be my cover. It won’t need dirt or poorly worn clothes, but being disheveled would be believable, as I don’t have time to always care about being seen as perfect, nor have servants fixing my looks and handling all affairs.
Satisfied the illusion was complete, he left the mirror, only then noticing a servant with a bag waiting near the door.
“Your travel bag, to go, Prince.”
He frowned. “Why would I have a travel bag to go?”
The servant looked confused at first but nodded slightly. “Understood, my lord. You’re not aware that traveling merchants keep items with them at all times—such as guild papers, trade licenses, permissions to cross borders or sell certain goods, letters of introduction—a few key items, and coins to pay for things.”
“And why would my servant not have all those things?” he still wasn’t sure he followed.
“They could… but merchants tend to be cautious. And few of those items are the lifeblood to a merchant. And as a merchant’s son…” She paused, watching him as he slowly nodded. He got it.
“If I’m a nobody, I would need to make sure I took care of myself. Thank you for seeing to my oversight.”
He took the pack and browsed it, surprised a few of the seals looked legit. Did his dad sign them for him, or get a few people to do so? It worried him a bit—then how many knew about this trip if word spreads?
“It was kept low-key who they were for, lord, but the papers are still legitimate, if that is your concern.”
He smiled, thankful for the servant’s insight. The pack was nothing special and light to carry, though now that he twirled it around more, he noticed a strap and hooked it to his side, happy it left his hands free.
He was about to leave when the servant left a parting word, saying travel clothes would be provided at each location as needed, as well as any extra items he requested in time if he gave them notice. He waved her off mid-speech, as he felt the bag was enough to worry about.
17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhDi5404twg
Exiting the castle was a tense affair—not for fear of anyone stopping him, no—worse, anyone outside the wall seeing him leaving and thinking the worst.
Well, he was alone with no servants or grand audience seeing him off. Yarla said she would be watching him from the shadows till they left or she was needed. He wasn’t sure, but she always seemed to be close if he paid attention. Yet for now, all he saw was an open courtyard and a sunny sky. The gate loomed in the distance, open and inviting, and he was not sure if he should run to hurry outside unseen, or stay casual, as they did have merchants visit before, selling things or discussing potential trades.
Casual, he thought. I’m a nobody, and it would be more absurd if it seemed like I was fleeing or had something to hide. So he forced a smile and stiffly walked, trying to look less regal but also like he belonged, unsure of the walk he should be doing.
It was exhausting just leaving the gate. There were guards nearby, but they kept looking straight ahead, surprising him. He thought they questioned everyone who tried to enter?
Aha, yes—I’m leaving.
But they did not ask who I am? Well, he wasn’t exactly unknown to the guards. Maybe his father asked them to be coy while he left. He really wished he had put more thought into the plan versus assuming all knew or did not know, and fearing everyone’s action.
“I do belong here, I assure you.” He blurted out, unsure why he said that. “I mean, I’m just a merchant passing through.” Now he wasn’t sure if they would call it out or think he was mad. He did not recognize them, but then, he never saw many faces for long, as they tended to bow or he’d be focusing on his own thing.
The surprise on one guard’s face got him worried, but a cough from the other made the first one’s surprise shift to a nervous smile. “Oh, uh, of course. Good day… um… sir.”
The other guard nodded but kept looking forward after that. And… he did it! He fooled them! Ha! He nodded eagerly, telling them how he was just there for trades, and quickly left—not seeing Yarla watching from the shadows, but the guards did, nodding to her as she shifted in shadows to follow the prince to the next area.
17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDjm4xocrDB
The streets were surprisingly clean, and everything seemed quiet. Was it always like this, calm? He could have sworn there’d be days he heard more noise coming from here, but he was usually wrapped up in training in the court and could not see beyond the walls to know what noise came from where. Perhaps it was a slow day as he approached the market.
Rows and rows of stalls with endless supplies of random things on display, from weapons and food to trinkets. He wanted to explore and sample it all. He tested a few lines of being a merchant himself on a few of the merchants, and they bowed, smiling, offering him free samples of anything he wanted as gifts and chances to improve potential future trades.
He was mildly tempted, but he was leaving the city and did not want needless trinkets—though he did give in and snag a book. It was a novel about some adventuring kids in dungeons; what interested him was that the kids fought together, and he never knew that feeling, and wanted to read it. Beyond that, he lightly sampled some food, which tasted nearly as good as palace food, surprising him. He thought common food would pale in comparison, but was happy all the same.
He made it to where the transport would be, making good time in his travel, as everywhere he went seemed to be a clear path. Strangely, side paths and random roads were blocked off—perhaps some maintenance he wasn’t sure about. But no matter—the paths he needed were open and clear.
“My lord, we should take a carriage. I already have one ready for you if you wish to follow me.”
Yarla’s voice from nowhere used to panic him, but he had long gotten used to people speaking when he was not looking, and she was famous for appearing from nothing.
“No. I don’t want to be that showy.”
“You’re still a rich merchant’s son—it won’t be seen as nobility.”
“Nor will I be seen as a nobody. I want there to be limits to my wealth and reach. A stagecoach will show that I have limits.” The prince smiled, liking his logic.
“As… you wish, lord.”
17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgyi7AGz3mu
Halfway to the crossroads—the first town they would stop at before the hero’s village—he regretted his choice. The stagecoach was always shaking. If not for his gift of water mana healing him every second, he would have thrown up at least twice from motion sickness. The bumping and rocking never stopped, even as he stared at Yarla smiling back, unmoving.
“How are you doing that?” She sat perfectly unmoving, even as his head bumped the side a few times.
“My gift, lord. I can turn partly shadow but still have form. It allows me to absorb the shifts and still sit still.”
“That’s cheating,” the prince said, annoyed at the injustice—his power did not offer the same.
“Your power, lord, lets you heal from nearly anything and need less sleep. I can still get hurt and tire easily with time.”
He had to concede her that point, but right now, being wide awake and feeling every bump versus sitting with a smile felt less like a victory in power given, and more like suffering he faced.
“How much longer? How are we not there?”
“We’re about halfway, sir. We should reach the town as the sun sets.”
“What? Why so long? I could run there in half the time.”
Yarla tilted her head in thought. “You know, I never thought about that. Perhaps you could have—though you’d ruin your clothes and draw a lot of attention—but I suppose you could have.”
“It was a joke, Yarla. Please, not that much.”
She bowed her head slightly. “I was merely sharing the jest and highlighting its absurdity, lord. Nothing more.”
When they finally did reach the town before sunset—which was a small blessing—he was too annoyed to care and wanted to start seeking a room for the night. The excitement of staying in a new place wore off quickly as he was now in the crossroads town. People were everywhere, and though they were minding their own business, they were still crowding—an odd sight from the empty streets of his city.
“Yarla, why are there so many people here, yet in the city everything was empty?”
“This is a trade town, lord—uh, sir… young master?” Yarla spoke but was unsure of the title to use. She had planned for many things; how to address the prince was one she had let slip her mind.
The prince, still annoyed from the trip, was too distracted to even notice at first before he heard the words, then looked lost in thought, rubbing his chin before he spoke.
“Young master still feels like I’m a prince. Why not my name?”
“I’d rather not, lor—sir.”
“You’ve said my name before. What’s the issue now?”
Yarla shook her head. “No issue, lord. I know your name well. However—” looking around, even here near an alley, the people still seemed to be getting too close for her comfort, “—too many people will be aware if I get too bold and free with speech. You still would have boundaries with a servant as a young merchant.”
“This is tiring and is supposed to be freeing. Fine—sir or master title,” the prince said, watching the crowd.
“As you wish, master.”
The prince grimaced with those words uttered. “Stick with sir,” was the last they spoke as he left for the crowd beyond.
17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaucirsPki4
=====
“Sir,” Yarla said carefully, unsure why the prince was so against his rank, as they finally were traveling to an inn beyond the crowd they passed. She had picked this one with her connections—letters sent with their plans. She wanted the whole place empty and filled with their agents, but the logistics were too much, and him going to the next town would expose it all anyway. So better to compromise a bit and let him get this commoner life he seemed to be craving.
Yarla was sure it was just a phase to prove the prince could live more rugged, but feared it would blow up long before the prince found whatever comfort he sought from it.
The prince kept weaving between the people, always seeming on the edge of shock and awe—happy he was blending in, and annoyed he was surrounded and crowded. A few times he bumped into people, cut a few people off in lines, and annoyed what might have been the wrong fellow once or twice—but a glance from her when she silently moved in front of the prince’s back let them know it was unwise to pursue that fight.
She knew the prince could take everyone here blindfolded and with one hand behind his back, but the fallout of royalty beating commoners for sport would be a scandal that would never fade.
So she instead appeased who she could, offering coin as an apology if they let it slide, and showed a blade to those that pushed their luck, assuming she would plead and offer more coin.
Luckily, the prince remained unaware of the ordeal till they made it inside the inn. He waited at the counter, wondering why food was not prepared and waiting, and the innkeeper watched him confused, as they both just stared at each other, waiting for the other to handle the issue that needed addressing.
“Sir, you must let them know you seek a room and food.”
The prince looked unsure.
“Why? I’m here; they should know.”
“That… not how it works, sir. Let me try.”
The prince, unsure of the protocol, relented easily as she moved forward and presented the cover story. “The young master is new to the land and not used to foreign customs. I sent a letter saying as such?”
The innkeeper, before a bit annoyed and unsure what was going on, turned pale and sweat started to appear. “The letter! Right, right, right. I read it.”
He bowed deeply. “We regret our ignorance. We’ll have a room ready for you and food brought there right away.”
The prince smiled, happy at the swift change, but looked around confused. “Why can’t I eat here?”
Yarla grimaced, as did the innkeeper, but everyone else in the inn mostly sat and gossiped, living in their own world. A few random stares, or looks away with boredom at the exchange, seeing nothing much of the situation, not really caring. The innkeeper watched her, hoping for her intervention, and she wasn’t sure if she could intervene here—that would be overstepping the prince’s desire.
“I, uh… can… let you… whatever you wish… sir?” the innkeeper finally said when no resolve was presented.
The prince, whose good mood never left, looked around and saw a booth near the back and claimed it. Someone brought them food without having to order. The prince seemed to be enjoying himself as they kept bringing him new food to sample, and he assumed this was just how inns worked, and thought commoners were spoiled if this was normal service.
Yarla tried to curb that train of thought by saying that he was still seen as someone with money, so treated better.
The prince did not like that he was buying a better life, but yielded to the point that there were limits to having status and being a complete nobody. He still wanted some perks of his life, even as he tried to escape it.
17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhWMCtWlcfR
The beds were well-made but still a lower standard than what a prince would be used to. Though it seemed, despite his gift letting him train every day and go without sleep and still be okay mentally, he was exhausted enough that he slept early, surprising Yarla as she went to check on the inn.
She spent half the night smoothing out the details the letter lacked and ensuring the transition tomorrow would go smoother. The main disconnect came from them assuming they would be told he was here, not just receive a letter and have him randomly show up—which Yarla blamed herself for. But now that it was smoothed over, the next town was the main issue.
There would be no more nets to catch, and it would be the first real test of the prince in a new town. They had allies there—the mayor and the rest of the council were ex-party members that had some connections to the king through the ex-Hidden Blade, Tanya. They had turned the prince away before due to the threat being taken care of, but now he was coming as a traveling merchant; it should be okay.
She just needed to make sure she made time to oversee that while the prince was distracted.
She was tired and hoped the prince slept in for tomorrow. She had stayed away too long and, unlike him, did need the sleep. Worse-case scenario, she would drink a wake-up drink and go from there—she just hated the after-effects. As she flowed from shadows into the bed, she was finally able to rest till the next day.
17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGlyvH2cfto
====
They were all there—giants of men, all in shiny armor that he envied—as he rolled into the next town.
How did they know he was coming? He had planned so well to remain undercover.
Yet he exited the coach, unsure how to address the legends that defeated the rare beast, as they all laughed upon seeing him. At first, he feared it was mocking him—a jest he did not quite understand—till they all started to surround him, taking turns slapping his back with good-natured greetings.
Each told him how the great beast pushed them to the edge, but not to worry—we will train you to be able to face legends, too!
This was a bit much, the prince thought. I just wanted to meet you, but train me? Well, I suppose I’m humble enough to know I can still learn a trick or two if taught by legends.
The laughter went on till he turned to ask one of the heroes something and smacked his head on a wall.
The pain was minor and fleeting, yet he still tried to make sense of this.
What confused him most was that his bed was enormous, and the only wall near it was the one behind the headboard. There was never a wall on his right side.
So why had he rolled over and smacked right into one?
Aha—commoner life. Yes, yes, I get it. This was what I wanted.
He did some light stretches, waiting for a servant to bring him a change of clothes and perhaps some food, maybe lightly go over a few reports before he went about his day.
Oh, yeah… I left only with Yarla, and she’s sleeping? He wasn’t sure; he never asked her what she might be doing before. She was always just there.
Hmmmm. Do I wake her? Would she come in if not asked?
No, she would not.
So why bother her? This is my lower-class life. I can feed myself. Gods, I can feed her! I’ve never cooked, but maybe I can learn now and bring her a meal as a thank you.
As he was leaving near the door, he was surprised to see a small satchel with a note.
*Morning, lord—this has spare clothes for you. If you need me, my room is across from yours. If you seek a meal, speak to the innkeeper. Please see me before you do anything more. If you’re reading this, you awoke before me, to my shame, and I fear I needed to sleep a little more.*
*Sincerely,*
*Yarla*
He wasn’t sure how to take the letter. That meant if she had handled her affairs sooner, he never would have seen these words and been aware she was awake in the night. Yet what did she have to do? Well, he tried to be low-maintenance, but perhaps he had offended someone in his travels that she needed to address. He would try to be more careful with that; this was supposed to be a pleasant trip, not stirring trouble.
He was grateful for the spare clothes—he had just assumed he had to wear the same thing the whole time, and that was why commoners could be so dirty. But it made more sense that they still changed, just got dirty with time. After dressing and carrying his satchel, he left the room for the day, not wanting to bother Yarla.
The fantasy of cooking, while fleeting, lost its luster as he went downstairs. There were not as many people, but it surprised him there were still this many at this hour. The innkeeper was there, looking a bit tired himself, but started up upon seeing him and quickly ordered them to bring him food unprompted—which he was grateful for, but felt slightly off, as he was noticing someone else having to ask and pay?
Did he pay anything? Nobody asked.
“Dear sir, innkeeper—I fear I did not get your name.” He tried to address his great shame and would set it right.
“Nox, my Priiiii—prices are always low!”
Prince Rylan was unsure why the man brought up prices unprompted, and wanted to smack his head. Of course, the innkeeper was waiting for him to settle his debt.
“Nox, you treat me well. What do I owe?” Smiling, he reached for coins, waiting to hear a number, yet paused when met with silence.
The innkeeper looked pained and unsure what to say, and slowly spoke, “Uh, it’s on the house?”
Rylan felt generosity had limits, even for a rich merchant—or how would they stay in business?
“Nonsense, I insist. So, 5 gold?” He wasn’t sure what a low number was, but surely the stay and accommodating two people was not cheap.
A nervous laugh from the innkeeper followed, and a seeming silence in the air confused the prince. He was sure chatter was happening before.
“My lor— uh? Sir? The room is 50 copper a night, and that makes us more expensive than most. You can get cheaper rooms elsewhere. We tend to cater to those wanting nicer rooms and just staying a short time as they pass through after a night or so for new trades.”
Copper? The room was of lower standard, but that was a good room? That seemed like a way to go out of business if all prices stayed that low.
Then again, he was supposed to be a rich foreigner, so he could play this off in both their interests to save face.
“Right… Thank you for your trust and not misleading me. I was used to my old kingdom’s prices being much higher. Yours are more than fair.” He withdrew a few silver regardless. “For you and your staff, for accommodating a man traveling into unknown lands.”
The innkeeper tried to refuse but relented, knowing it compounded the issue. Rylan found a booth near the front, and the stares and low murmurs faded soon after. Perhaps they bought his story, or did not care. He wasn’t sure which he preferred but was thankful it ended there as food was brought.
17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnozM0O8lAp
Halfway through the meal, Yarla joined him, asking if anything had gone wrong. He assured her he had handled everything quite well and was ready when she was to head to the next village.
The ride was just as bad as before, but blessedly, Yarla was not smiling. She seemed upset, but he wasn’t sure why—he was the one suffering.
“Prince, I fear I must confess—we have been staging the visit to help you transition easier. I regret our decision, but the next village will be a more normal experience.”
A random bump knocked him mid-thought, but it did not matter anyway. What did he care? They eased the transition as a commoner; this would be fine anyway. He would meet the heroes with no interference, which he wanted.
“That’s fine. It just means I will get the real visit I wanted, where I wanted. I care less about the kingdom and a trade village that had no heroes.”
Yarla still looked concerned. “They may act and treat you less than you think they should, sir.”
“Yeeeesssss, I’m aware of how commoners act. They can be brutish if pushed. I am not unaware. I will use care not to antagonize them, if that is your concern.”
Her face did not show relief even as she nodded. And while her discomfort was a concern for Rylan, every time he bumped his head or felt the numbing of his backside, he found he could not care as much about hers. Not like he would be a commoner in a new place.
No, he would get his new life, even if he did not know what he would have to face. The real question was: would the heroes care about the hidden-identity prince when they came face to face?17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVPvvsX0H0z
and then Add to home screen.