Tragedy Strikes

The guards cried out and he scrambled for the door, casting a protection spell on himself. The familiar punch to the gut feeling he got made him aware once again that he really needed to find a familiar. Pushing it out of his head, he looked around, breathing a bit unsteadily.

His guards were surrounded by seven men, dressed in mix-matched armor. Heron's eyes widened as he realized that this did not look all that good for them. He frowned as he tried to figure out what to do. He could not very well use magic as without a familiar it was much more difficult and there were only a few spells he could actually pull off without drastically hurting himself, none of which were

exactly appropriate.

He pulled out the knives he carried on his person and threw one into the neck of one of the bandits. At least he assumed they were bandits. He was glad that he had learned to use knives, as they were rather light and did not strain his body to much, he had managed to talk his father into letting him learn some self-defense. Just because he had gone a little farther without anyone's knowledge….

Even with his help though his guards were soon downed, and he felt horror grip him. He knew all of them, and had either grown up with them, or had grown up bugging them. A bit of faintness came over him, but he looked up at the men who had turned to come towards him. There were still three of them left.

Even though he felt a little faint, more than that he felt angry. He no longer cared if he could easily maim himself, all he wanted was to avenge those he cared about. Before he could start casting his spells though he heard a sharp tang and one of the men fell over as a large hawk dove out of the sky.

He threw another of his knives and after the last of the men fell over, he looked around for the person who had provided him aid. A green cloaked figure jumped down from a nearby tree and walked towards him.

He turned away and walked to check on the men who had been assigned to guard him. His breath caught in his throat as he realized that they were dead. He gently closed their eyes and tried to figure out how to get them home so their families could say goodbye to them.

"I am surprised that you are acting like you care about them." The words were flat and he was surprised to notice that the voice was feminine.

"Why would I not? They were good men." He did not try to get the grief out of his voice.

"…What would a nobleman care for someone beneath them?" The voice was filled with

loathing.

"Beneath me?" He whirled around with a snarl, "You sound like some of my father's council."

As he turned around he got a good look at the person who, admittedly, just saved his life. Female. Wavy brown hair with light highlights. Sharp brown eyes. Sharp nose that gave her a rather serious look.

Her hawk landed on her shoulder and he noticed that she was frowning at him. "Tcch. Isn't that how all you rich folk are?"

"Why save me then if you think so badly of us?" He decided that there was no real point arguing with her when she was so sure of herself. He began dragging one of the bodies over to the carriage, struggling to do so. But he could not leave them there.

She watched him struggle for a few minutes and then helped him get his men so the crows could not eat them, "I only saved you because it's part of my job. I was hired to make sure the prince of Amriel made it to his destination. If it was not for that I really wouldn't care. But I got a reputation as being the best so I will do what I was paid for."

"…" He kept quiet until they had managed to fix the bodies so he could parcel them home. He did not particularly care what this… female thought about him, so he just gave her a flat look. "Alright then, Miss. Best at Whatever You Call This, would you rather ride up here with me or walk?"

She stared at him flatly, her eyes narrowed, "I'll ride, Your Highness." The way she said the title sounded strangely derogatory.

He grimaced slightly, "Please do not call me by that overused title. I would really rather be called, 'Hey you', than that. I got enough of it back home."

She lept onto the carriage and looked at where he was holding the reins, "So, Your Highness, do you even know how to drive?"

"…" He turned away to hide the tears threatening to fall. It had been Old Silam who had taught him, one of the men he had just watched be cut down in front of him, "Yes." He shortly said not sparing her a glance. "Where is the nearest town, exactly?"

She gave him directions, still with thinly veiled hostility in her voice. He drove the cart there, keeping quiet the entire way. Once he arrived, he found someone to send the men home, making sure to attach a note to his father stating that he was okay.

The young woman followed him, though she seemed to dislike the fact that her job entailed this.

"You don't have to follow me, miss." He gave her a flat look, "There is a lot of people here. I am sure I will be fine."

"And what will you do when some poor soul tries to rob you?"

"Well, they could try." As soon as the words left his mouth, Heron realized that it probably came

across as arrogant. The truth was one of the simple spells he knew disguised his coin pouch making it blend into the rest of his attire. They could probably steal some of his books, but that would be more noticeable.

The woman rolled her eyes at him, "Arrogant princeling."

"Not like I am carrying all that much of worth anyway."

"You are a prince. Your not much of worth would probably feed them for a month."

He decided to ignore her. To him she was little more than a stranger and this was honestly the first time he had ever talked to a stranger. His father had always been overprotective of him.