Sartor sat at the fountain, contemplating the writings and paid little heed to the noises around him, there was always somebody else in the garden, after all, it was one of the most popular leasure spots on the academy grounds. But at some point he could not ignore it any more - a group of his fellow students were being rather noisy, having, what seemed, an overly energic dispute of some sort. Young Sartor frowned inadvertently for he noticed a bottle of wine in the hands of one of the students. Drinking on academy grounds was not forbidden, but it was strongly discouraged, moreso in the garden. He tried to decide wether to leave or to confront the noisemakers, but then the disruption escalated as one of the students got up and left, obviously in similar mood as Sartor. Sartor wanted to find out what had transpired so, as the student passed the place at the fountain where he sat, Sartor spoke up to the unfamiliar boy, inviting him to sit down and share the story. The other student wavered, looking back at the noisy group he had just left, looking dissaprovingly at Sartor and looking at the exit. This gave Sartor the pretence to reveal his name, which he had witheld, not to silence the student, but to keep him from possible silence or departure. "My name is Sartor Fon'holm.." The other student did not react. "The Third. Prince of Il'daven?"
"Your Majesty, I know who you are, alas, while I know it would be disrespectful to reject your invitation for an audience, there are some extremely pressing matters I have to attend to. With your permission, I would like to leave." This the young boy said with a grave voice while bowing deeply. Sartor clapped his book shut, stood and replied as gravely: "Then let me go with you and you can tell me while we walk!" This cought the boy off guard and he seemed somewhat shook up by Sartors unexpected movements. Rabid thoughts reflected on the boys face, as if he was struggling with himself and then, defeated, invited Sartor along.
"I do not know your name."
"My apologies you majesty, I am called Rubens Gull."
"Rubens, I want you to call me by my name, can you do that?"
"Certainly, your.. Sartor. It may take some time to get used to."
"Take as much time as you need," both boys laughed.
"So, where are we going and what was going on back in the garden?"
"I was trying to talk to the northern province nobles, try to get them to help up."
"Who is "us"?"
"My father. He is a lord in the far south, there has been a bad raid."
"I hear raids in the south are quite common, Rubens."
Rubens came to an abrupt halt: "All due respect, your majesty, but just because something is common, it does not make it less horrible."
Sartor stood corrected; that had not happened in a long time. He had almost forgotten that he could be wrong, he had suffered too much ass kissing. "I.. I'm sorry, I must admit, I have never been to the far south and know little of the severity of the raids. Please, tell me more.''
The dark expression cleared from Rubens' face and the boys resumed their march. "It seems that the obliviousness is widespread between the nobles beyond the raid borders. They do not realize that their peace and prosperity is bougth with the blood of the people on the borderlands. While our lands get pillaged and burned, they sit in their lavish rooms and wave us away when we plea for help. Even the king does nothing! All the times my father has sought audience, written letters and reports, nothing has been done!''
Sartor was sympathetic to what Rubens was saying; while he had not been aware of the situation on the borderlands and was somewhat sceptical about the extent of the raids, he had no reason to distrust Rubens and what he was saying. "I can not believe my father has ignored so numerous pleas for help. I am sure he will not leave you to your own devices forever."
"Well, it seems like it has been forever. By the seven spirits! It can not get any worse! My.. my brother was killed in that raid!'
Sartor did not fake his sincerity. "I am sorry Rubens."
Rubens suddenly jumped forward and took off, leaving Sartor confused, but he followed suit and ran along: "Rubens! Wait! Please, I know you are mad, but can we put that aside for a second?"
"No! Do you know what your problem is? You do not take this for reality, as you said yourself, you have never seen a raided village. Leave me alone, even if I tell you about it, there is nothing you can and want to do!"
"Stop right there! I am not my father and I promise you, I will do all in my power to see that this situation is turned around."
"Certainly, your majesty," Rubens returned coldly.
"Please, give me a chance! And where are we going?"
"I have to tell my father that I could not negotiate any help and that I will return home after exams, at least I can help my people."
"I see.. that gives me an idea, how about I go with you to the borderlands and see for myslef what the situation is?"
Rubens stared at Sartor, assessing the degree of insanity: "Your are fooling around, right? No way you want to come to the South.."
"No, I am absolutely serious. I cannot believe I have been neglecting such a major part of my future kingdom. I will accompany you; if you want to, that is," and Sartor smiled madly at Rubens, daring him to an invitation, which Rubens was both eager and reluctant to give, he saw the great jesture his majesy showed him, but he had no desire of putting Sartor in danger, which was plentiful in his homeland.
"There is not like here, you know, my fathers lands are savage and unforgiving. You migth find your final moments there if unprepared."
"You seem to have gotten through them just fine. I am going."
"As you wish, your majesty, I would be glad if you accompanied me."
"Splendorous. Tell your father I'm coming.. or don't. And it's Sartor, Rubens, remember that! Good luck in your exams!" Sartor kept smiling madly and turned around to return to his quarters.
"You too," Rubens added and entered the Note office...
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