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The Prelude
Part Six
There were many reasons as to why Richard despised Reaver. He was a selfish, pompous scum-bag, for one. But what that man had done to Industrial and its people… it was just too much.
Indeed, it was not as bad as it could have been—the good queen had seen to that—but the air was thick with odorous smog, and the place was filthy. The people who had the misfortune of living-or worse-working there were tired and unhappy. They never blamed his mother, but Richard could not help but harbor some anger towards her for letting it happen.
He and Sir Walter Beck were parading about the Industrial quarter of Bowerstone in the most disgusting clothes they could find, their faces purposely muddied and covered in order to mirror the dress and somber look of the poor that walked the streets. This proved to disguise them well enough—no one recognized the knight or the prince, or if they did, they said nothing on the subject.
Walter had yet to explain to Richard what the purpose of such a disguise was, and he was getting a little annoyed with the older man. How in the world would this get him the information he needed? All it served to do was thrust him out into the bowels of the city unnoticed, and also to depress him. There was virtually no need for this.
But the knight seemed to know what he was doing. Richard figured that he might as well take comfort in that fact.
As they walked, he noticed a little tow-headed girl pass him by, her head hung low as she begged for food or money from anyone who she thought would be able to provide such things. His heart sunk low. "That girl… where are her parents?"
"She's most likely an orphan," the older gentleman replied gravely. "There are several of the poor little tykes running about this part of the city. Your mother used to always visit with them, before the… incident."
Richard fell silent at that, his eyes locked on the little girl for a long time before Walter pulled him away. "We must go on to the docks. That is where the beggars gather."
"What would we want to do with beggars?" Richard asked, his face wrinkling up behind his tattered scarf. "Aside from give them money?"
"The beggars are the eyes and ears of the city. They will know where we can find your man, or at least give us a place we can start."
"So… These disguises…"
"Are to make them think that we're one of them, so they'll be more likely to trust us."
"I see… How very clever!"
"Ha! This old man hasn't lost his touch yet!"
They came to a semi-spiral stairway leading down towards the docks, and Walter once again took the lead. Richard was sure to copy the man's stance—head low and shoulders scrunched in submission. The beggars that were already there hardly spared them a passing glance.
"That royal family," he heard Walter suddenly growl, "I say they deserved what they got. It's too bad they all weren't killed!"
At first, it took every fiber of his being to resist socking Walter right in the face. But then he saw the man turn and wink at him from beneath his shaggy tri-corn hat, and he caught on. Taking on a less educated drawl, he agreed, "Oi, I know, righ'? Bunch o' sniveling cowards they all are—'ave you 'eard 'ow that brat Richard is trying to 'unt that Able Matthias down? The kid's a royal loon!"
"He won't get very far—if this Matthias fellow exists, he's probably much too sharp to be caught by that little weasel."
It was clear that they had caught the attention of one of the poor women that kneeled upon the dock, beside a crate. She eyed them for a moment, as Richard continued, "I wish I could 'ave been the one to throw that bomb. I wouldn't 'ave missed that boy."
"Got a good aim, have ye?" the woman croaked, rising to her feet. Richard stared at her. She would have been pretty if it weren't for all the dirt and grime, or for the unkindness she had been dealt by Reaver and the city.
"Oh, sure. Not as good as Reaver's, but I reckon I'll catch up to 'im sooner or later."
She seemed to be searching his face for answers, as if trying to determine if what he said was true or not. Then she said, "I know where you can put that skill to good use."
"Do ye?" Walter questioned, looking from the woman to Richard and then back again.
She nodded. "There's a man called Green that lives in the sewers. Talk to him."
"Does this Green pay well?"
"He doesn't do the paying."
"Who does?" Richard asked, perplexed. But she just shook her head.
"Just talk to Green."
He opened his mouth to ask her another question, but she overlapped him with, "Alms! Alms! Alms for the poor!"
Logan's spirits had begun to rise.
His mother had, over the past few days, slowly emerged from her room. She still looked sallow and worn, and her fiery red hair sported a few more grays, but she was moving about, eating, drinking, and speaking with the servants. It was good to see her regaining her strength, and everyone in the castle could finally let out a sigh of relief. Soon, they would have their old queen back, wounded as she was, and things could return to something akin to normalcy.
Logan was sure to keep a close watch over her, though. He knew that she was just putting on a brave face for everyone else; her heart still ached as much as his, and it would take more than a few weeks for time to mend the grievous wound they had been dealt. They would get through this together, as his mother had said. He planned on being there for her every step of the way.
That morning, she joined him and Elena at breakfast, taking her seat at the head of the table. She looked down at her plate and hesitated before looking up again, perplexed.
"Where is Richard?" she asked him. "He never misses breakfast."
"He went into town with Walter, Mother," he dutifully replied.
She paled a bit. "Into town….?"
"They're safe, Mother," he comforted her, worry starting to worm its way into the pit of his stomach. "Don't worry. No one is ever going to hurt us again….Everything will be fine, you'll see."
Elena looked from him to their mother, chewing her food in a most unladylike manner, her eyes wide with curiosity as the good queen mumbled some sort of excuse and exited the room again. Logan set down his fork and quietly told his sister to chew with her mouth closed; he suddenly didn't feel all that hungry any more.
A/N: Sorry to keep you all waiting and then come back with such a short chapter. Things have been hectic lately, and then I was hit with a really bad writer's block. Hopefully this means I'll get back into the swing of things and post some more chapters before school starts up again. Cheers!