Chapter 32: The City of Humbi

"Whoa! Their capital city is bigger than I expected," Colt reacted when he roamed around the streets of the city of Humbi, the capital city of Wild. "It might be even bigger than ours."

They could find impressive constructions around the city. They entered the local markets, passing by the local vendors who called every passerby to their shops. Colt, Rozerd and Gilbert had worn long garments, and turbans to hide their identity.

"Where would we find our man?" Gilbert asked Rozerd.

"His message said to meet in the shadow part of the city," Rozerd replied. "I wonder what he meant."

"It might mean some rotten place hidden behind the extravagance of the city," Colt guessed. "There are always such parts in the large cities, especially one like this."

"Good sir, do you want some fresh apples?" a shopkeeper said to them, who wore a long woven garment. "I have a lot of fresh ones." He picked up a red juicy apple and handed it to Colt. "Have a taste. If you like it, then only purchase it."

Colt took a bite. "Hmm… It is actually good. How much for them?"

"Two copper coins, sir," the shopkeeper said.

Colt took out a pouch from inside his shirt and took out two gold coins, and handed it to the shopkeeper. He did not know there was someone who had eyed the pouch already.

"Thank you, sir." The shopkeeper looked at their attire and asked, "Are you from outside?"

"Yes, we have come from a different country across the seas. We are merchants and are willing to expand our trade further," Rozerd replied. "Is there a way to meet King Gunderf?"

"I do not know," the shopkeeper said. "You might need to contact a high official in the palace could help you meet the king."

"I see. Thank you," Rozerd said and walked ahead. Colt and Gilbert followed him.

Colt was about to put his pouch inside his shirt when a thief snatched it from him and ran away. "Hey, stop!" he shouted and ran behind him.

"My prince, wait." Gilbert tried to stop him, but he was already gone.

"Do not worry," Rozerd said in a casual tone. "He will just get his pouch back. Let us go." He moved ahead and Gilbert followed him after picking up the bag of apples Colt had dropped before going behind the thief.

"Hey, stop!" Colt shouted when the thief turned into unknown alleys and moved through houses. The young prince followed him diligently. "Give my pouch back!"

"Why is he so stubborn?" the thief mouthed when he climbed up the stairs of a house and jumped across the roof, only to find Colt doing the same and never losing him.

"Hey, stop!" Colt shouted again when the thief jumped down into another alley. He followed him and realized the area differed from the area he was in earlier. It gave off a gloomy vibe. "Where did he go?"

He looked around and saw drunkards picking a fight, prostitutes who were so nice that they wanted to make him their guest, children in rags running around, and old people lying outside their houses in rags. He suddenly remembered what Rozerd had said earlier - 'His message said to meet in the shadow part of the city.'

"Could this be the shadow part he talked about?" he wondered. He saw a frail-looking man coming towards him who looked like he would collapse any minute, which he did. The prince hurried to look what happened to him. "Hey, are you alright?" He could see his dry lips and skeleton-like body.

"I-I have…" the man stuttered in a weak tone. "…not eaten for three days. I a-am h-hungry."

Colt took out the pouch of water and drank him. "Are you feeling better? Where do you live? Should I take you to your home?"

The man nodded. Colt carried him on his back and followed his instructions to reach his home. He got surprised to see there was no actual home he belonged to. There were four sticks, and a rug placed over them.

"Do you live here?" he asked.

"I do," the man replied. "Thank you for carrying me here." He stepped down from the back of the prince and sat in the rug shed. "Do you have something to eat, or some money?"

Colt looked down with a sad face. "A thief stole my pouch of coins."

"I see," the man said with a disappointed face. Thank you still. You are very kind."

Colt could see he did not believe him, but he could do nothing. "Okay, I will meet you again if fate calls it."

He walked away. When he searched for a way to get out of the area, he stumbled upon a gang of thugs. He spotted the thief who had snatched his pouch with them. "You!" he shouted at him, getting the attention of his muscular gang members.

The thief stepped back in surprise. "You reached here too? Why do not you let it go? It is only a pouch," he said to Colt.

"Who is he?" a bald, half-naked, muscular man asked the thief while holding his wrist.

"A nuisance," the thief replied. "He is after me."

"Do not worry," the bald man said and stepped ahead, followed by his strange looking hooligans, who grinned at him. "We will teach him a lesson."

Colt understood the situation had turned rough. "Fine. If you really want to do this…" He took out his turban and kept it aside on the ground. "Then come at me." He took his stance and taunted them with his fingers. "Come."

The bald man approached him with confidence. "I will crush your beautiful face, you lad."

"Yeah, do it!" the thief cheered for him, but his cheerful expression turned into despair when the bald man slammed to the ground. "Huh?"

All the other hooligans stood their aghast with their eyes wide open. "What?"

Colt had kicked the man in the jaw. When he lost his balance, he rammed another kicked to his head, making him slam to the ground. He had passed out and showed no movement. Colt looked at the thief. "Just hand me my pouch, and I will leave."

"I will hand you nothing!" the thief shouted with a tensed face. "Attack him together!"

The other men jumped at him together, but they were no match for the young prince. They were all lying on the ground in a few minutes, moaning and withering in pain.

"Would you hand it over to me now?" Colt said again.

"What the hell?" The thief turned and began to run again, but this time someone punched him in the face, making him drop to the ground.

"Rascals, stop harassing people," the man who had punched the thief said. He took out the pouch of coins from under his shirt and brought it to Colt. "Here. I guess you wanted this back."

Colt took it back. "Yeah. Thank you very much."

He saw the man was small in stature, but still had strong, muscular arms. He was a middle-aged man with tiny hair, a round face with a thin mustache. He wore a blue sleeveless clothing, woven black pants, and sandals.

The prince turned to leave, but his feet halted when he heard something surprising.

"Are you Prince Colt?" the man said.

Colt turned back with a puzzled face. "How do you know me?"

The man smiled. "I just know it. Let me introduce myself, I am…" He was about to introduce himself, but someone interrupted him.

"Poirot! There you are!" It was Prince Rozerd, who had just arrived with Gilbert.

Colt somehow connected the dots and understood who this man could be.

"Prince Rozerd!" The man bowed. "It has been so long since we met."

Rozerd and Poirot hugged each other.

"Indeed. It has been years," Rozerd said. "We have not met since my father sent you here as a spy."

"Yeah. I wanted to meet you," Poirot scratched his head with a smile. "But duty comes first."

"I know. I know." Rozerd turned to Colt and said, "Meet Poirot. One of my close friends and an asset to our kingdom."

"I know this young man is Prince Colt," Poirot said while looking at Colt. "He has the same features as you." He looked at Gilbert. "Who is this man?"

"I am Gilbert, an advisor and instructor of Prince Colt," Gilbert said.

"I see. Alright. We have no time to waste." Poirot walked away, prompting them to follow him. "Do you really want to meet the king even after what you had done to one of the princes?"

"The situation demands it," Rozerd replied. "I would have chosen some other way if there was one."

"Well, if you say so… I guess you were in luck."

"What do you mean?" Colt asked.

"The king is in bad health nowadays. His control over his people is slipping away. The tension, anxiety and old age have taken a toll on him," Poirot explained. "Most of the decisions are taken by the ministers who hold the actual power. They have put his good-for-nothing younger son on the throne, but he rarely goes against their wishes. He would sit there until King Gunderf gets healthy and takes his position back."

"And how do you know all this?" Gilbert wondered.

Poirot looked back and winked. "I have my connections. And these same connections will bring you in the presence of the king."

"What about the rebel groups?" Rozerd asked. "I heard they have claimed control over a province."

"The situation is getting out of hand. If no one takes care of it, the fire will spread throughout the whole country, and it will be pure anarchy."

"I see." Rozerd smirked. "When could I meet the king?"

"Three days from now. My trusted acquaintance will take you to the court."

Colt sensed someone following them. When he looked back, he found no one, so he discarded the thought and just walked.