“Isn’t this beautiful, Rene?”

The voice of childhood friend Emilia of Xanthos, Princess of Athenia, caught in the petite blonde’s ears, drawing her attention from where she stood admiring a small hand-painted wooden plaque featuring Aphrodite, the color palette mostly of ecru, eggshell and ivory, with her blue eyes and golden hair being the most vibrant yet subtle pop. It was a small piece, but Rene instantly loved it, a lovely tribute to her patron goddess that she would keep for personal admiration. Her own azure pools took in the necklace that had captivated Emilia, a smile touching her lips. “I love the asymmetry of it,” she remarked honestly. “It is very unique. Look at this. It is so pretty,” she likewise held up the little mosaic. Humble and content to stroll the common markets and agorá, Rene found it easy to meld into the fluidity of the secular realm, engaging the ‘every man’ with nary a notion of superiority given her station. Though to keep her parents satisfied that she was safe, and not drawing unnecessary attention like a beacon, she typically donned a hooded cloak to conceal her pastel peplos and modest but elegant jewelry. She could not have asked for better company either. Friends since they were young children, Rene always enjoyed being around Emilia. Displaced from the prim and proper displays and rigid protocols of the court, the two relished in their 'girl' time, free to be as they were without judgment or false pretenses or any of the other nonsense that often pervaded associations of the upper class.

The market was a particularly enjoyable place, a feast of sensory input promising delights at every turn. One one corner, the fragrance of so many flowers caught the eye and nose, gathered into bouquets with leather thongs as they beamed at all who walked by from their water vessels, riotous of color as they were. One the opposite corner, one would be draped in the aroma of freshly baked tsoureki, beautifully braided and freshly baked with a buttered sheen to its crust, or bins full of the disk-like pita, lightly floury in appearance, and ready to be stuffed with whatever comestibles one saw fit to employ. Further down, lamb was being shaved from a rotisserie, generous fillets of fresh salmon were being blackened on a grill and roasted vegetables were being sprinkled with seasoning. And if that wasn’t enough, amid the food vendors were the art, craft and goods stalls, peddling everything from woven baskets to statuettes of the gods. There was no lack of enticement for whatever proclivity was burning a hole in one’s pocket. And Rene was no exception. With an eager smile, she turned towards her long time handmaid and surrogate mother, Melba. The woman knew her young ward well enough, having raised her, that Rene had already decided to buy the piece, and had fished a few drachma out of the small leather pouch she carried and presented it to the vendor. A brief verbal exchange, and Rene showed the piece to Emilia. “It is perfect. I could not resist such an image of my goddess.”

With new acquisitions in hand, the pair once more set off down the rows of carts and stalls, ogling this that and the other, chattering about anything that caught their youthful eyes, from sparkly adornments, beaded accessories and attractive young men as well. So lost in the euphoria of the market were the girls, that Rene had completely lost track of the retinue at their heels.

“Rene, we’ve lost our guards! We need to …”

Licking from her finger the last remnants of honey from a particularly savory piece of baklava, Rene’s crystal blue orbs darted towards Emilia at first, and then flashed around her, not entirely in panic, but widened in concern. It was one thing to be strolling leisurely in the markets of Athenia, but in a foreign land, the anxiety of separation seemed heightened given the unfamiliarity of the land. “What?” The word came out on automatic. She’d heard Emilia perfectly well, and her brain had already registered the potential dangers in losing guards and attendants, despite the Colchian hospitality they’d experienced thus far. Turning in place, Rene pulled the hood of her cloak down to prevent any obstruction in her fields of vision, instantly seeking to identify Melba among the river of faces flowing around them. “Melba?!” She called in reaction. The intensity of any potentially growing trepidation was thoroughly derailed, however, by the crashing appearance of a young boy, exploding from between the pedestrian foot traffic in hasty exodus before tripping and crumbling to a disheveled stop at the feet of the teenagers. It seemed surreal, playing out simultaneously in both slow motion and the speed of emblazoned light from Apollo’s chariot. Where the child clung to a small satchel, it too, was dashed to the ground, spilling its contents; several apples.

“I gotcha this time! You won’t be stealing from my stall anymore, you miserable little shit!”

Rene could hear the man’s voice before she saw him in her periphery, bursting through the throngs of market-goers with reckless abandon, nearly shoving some of them as he went. He was livid, face red, a vein nearly throbbing in his forehead, and wielding a broom. One could easily deduce he was the vendor of the pilfered fruit, and he was ready to dispense the full weight of the law with a broom he was carrying. Around them, people continued as if this were a regular occurrence, which, given by the shopkeeper’s words, it may very well have been. The child’s face lifted from where it had nearly planted into the street, dirty and stricken in terror, ridiculously thin and draped in ragged clothing, he was practically bracing himself for the beating that was moments from transpiring.

"We have to do something!"

Rene heard Emilia whisper emphatically into her ear. Her lovely face framed in her flaxen locks, with a simple braided band of silver around her head moved from the boy to the man, and nary a second later, she stepped forward, planting herself firmly between the foundered child and his would-be disciplinarian. As the man had raised his broom in preparation to strike, Rene involuntarily raised an arm to shield herself, should the blow be delivered anyway. “Sir! Cease this at once. I shall cover the entirety of your losses,” she stated, loud enough to be heard over his rampage. It was at that moment Rene remembered they had been separated from their guards, and Melba, who held her money. No matter, she would handle this all the same. Unmarred hands reached behind her to unfasten the necklace she wore, one of gold with a jeweled pendant hanging mid chest. Without hesitation she removed it and offered it to the vendor, meeting his angered gaze unflinchingly. “For your apples. I am certain this should be adequate,” she maintained, not allowing any room for him to challenge her on the matter, should he have the gall to do so.

There was no shortage of relief when the vendor accepted the offering, as the man’s temper was full force. Of course the necklace more than paid for the pilfered apples, several times over, but she wasn’t about to escalate him further by pointing that out. The petite blonde remained in front of the boy, shielding him from any further repercussions, at least for the moment. As she braced for impact, presuming a blow was coming, Emilia emerged from her periphery and belted into the man, knocking him back. A little surprised at Emilia’s gumption, Rene’s bright blue eyes widened a little, holding her position though should any retaliation come their way.

“Why don’t you give him a job in your stall? He’s probably just trying to feed his family. Perhaps he’ll be willing to work for food.”

She heard Emilia’s question and thought it a good proposal before the vendor squelched that idea as well.

“I don’t want no street rats working for me. You fine ladies should mind your own business.”

Rene had been willing to let much of his chastisement go already. She’d been willing to overlook his near tedious agreement to accept a pricey piece of jewelry for a few apples, as if he was doing her a favor. She’d been willing to understand his anger at being robbed. She’d still been a bit more understanding of his reluctance to hire the very boy who’d been stealing from him. But she took aversion to being told to mind her own business, for some reason. It seemed a final straw in an otherwise strained back.

“We were minding our business, when our holiday at the market was interrupted….by you,” Rene countered, keeping her tone even and un-nuanced by her annoyance. “Additionally, we didn’t need to offer you any compensation at all, seeing as the issue here is clearly yours and yours alone, not ours,” she continued, tactfully. Despite any waxing annoyance, she remained composed, and continue to hold out the necklace for the vendor to take. A deal was a deal. It was a loss, but given the wealth of the Nikolaos, it was easily replaceable. Before the disgruntled vendor could claim his rectification, the very child they were arguing over was on his feet before anyone noticed, helped himself to the jewelry, and before Rene could blink, he was gone, melding into the crowd like pouring water into a river. She turned to see if she could track the boy, narrowing beryl pools to trail him through the foot traffic down the street.

“I’ll kill him!”

She heard the vendor’s voice bellowing a threat as his promised repayment had been once more thwarted. One had to hand it to the boy; he was certainly tenacious, and gutsy, if not a bit foolish. She turned, her gaze seeking out the vendor this time, to prevent him from barreling past her like a raging bull, only to see him going down, once more. His robust weight toppled, sprawling at their feet for the second time in a matter of minutes. Fast and yet in slow motion, Rene’s eyes followed his decent, rendered astonished once more by Emilia’s initiative. No sooner had the vendor landed unceremoniously as he did, were streams of colorful language spewing from his lips. Horrified at such blatant profanity, Rene put a hand over her chest, unable to see if anyone around them was equally as appalled. Before she could gauge the collective reaction to all of this, she felt Emilia grab her hand and pull her into hot pursuit of the wayward child pickpocket.

“That didn’t go as well as I’d hoped,” she called up to her friend as they snaked their way through the bodies of everyone in the agora, fleeing the fountains of foul language being pelted at everyone behind them. “I think he went off to the right,” she pointed as they ran, her fine garments and jewelry bouncing around. The child had ducked down a more narrow side street, cutting over away from the agora towards the more residential outskirts. With the girls in tow, he’d already disappeared from sight, crafty and fast. Feeling as if they were traversing a maze, Rene kept up with Emilia, drawing to a halt when they came to a seeming dead end. Panting a bit to catch her breath, the Athenian’s keen gaze panned over the collection of wooden crates, piles of trash, broken bits of furniture and framework and tattered cloth hanging here and there.

“Hello? Do not be afraid. We will not harm you. You can keep the necklace,” she called quietly, should the child be hold up hiding amid the sprawl of debris.

It might have all seemed a wild goose chase, and in some ways, it was. What had ushered in the day as jubilant shopping had morphed into a series of bizarre events, resulting in the separation of two young women and their attendants and guards, an angry fruit vendor, a pilfered necklace, and boy who was suddenly in possession of more wealth than he ever would again in a hundred lifetimes. The dead end, at least it seemed so, was a veritable dumping ground, or maybe it had started that way, and it had become a haven for those without homes.

“I think we’re lost.”

Emilia’s voice prodded Rene from the side. She wasn’t wrong. The petite blonde was ready to concede to such and set back from whence they came to be reunited with the small army they traveled with, when a third voice derailed such a thought. It was certainly a frightening place, a setting where terrible things might happen. As Rene was nodding, starting to turn, the voice halted her in her tracks. Cerulean eyes darted towards Emilia before once more sweeping out around the piles of debris.

“Can I really keep the necklace? I can show you the way back if you let me have it.”

The boy. He sounded genuine. Though, as a pickpocket or thief, there was an inherent question of integrity. Rene took a few more steps forward, guarded for certain, gaze continuously scanning, to both locate their quarry as well as maintain vigil should the situation deteriorate into one of impending danger.

“Yes, you can keep it,” she answered, hoping that would help convince him of her intent, and her honesty. “We would be grateful for the guidance, as we were separated from our companions. Would you come out, and speak with us?” Once more Rene glanced back over her shoulder to take in Emilia, as a gauge of how she was fairing in all this.Her shoulders lifted in a light shrug to suggest she was also simply improvising the encounter.

“Be careful. He might be luring us closer to rob us of all our valuables.”

Emilia’s voice was cautionary, and understandably so. Perhaps it was Rene’s delve into philanthropy in the last few years under the admirable influence of Lady Ophelia of Condos, but Rene didn’t fear the boy, not the way Emilia did. Of course he could be decieving them, conning them, luring them into the seedy alley in which they found themselves so his cohort could steal them blind, or worse. But for reasons she couldn’t explain, Rene didn’t think glean that sense of things.

“I will not. I always keep my word.”

“Says the thief,”

“You saved my life. I won’t hurt you.”

A back-and-forth erupted before Rene could get a word in edgewise, between Emilia and the boy, both staunch in their positions. Finally the boy addressed the artist personally.

“Your necklace will buy medicine for my sick mother and enough food for all of us to eat for a month.”

The statement was a profound one. If it was honest. And Rene believed it was. Her work in charity had secured a realistic view on the plight of the lower classes, left to grovel and beg, hoping not to be spit on or kicked as they held up pans hoping someone might deposit a few spare coins. It was an agonizing reality, and one that Rene had mired in periodically to use her family’s estate kitchens to bake as many loaves of bread as possible to hand out. Rene could tell by the look on Emilia’s face that such notions were foreign to her. And that made sense. It wasn’t Emilia’s fault that she had been born to a life of privilege, and had never once been exposed to anything that wasn’t the one percent. The entirety of her being was engulfed in the highest echelons of society, people who had not only never been found wanton for anything, but who lauded their high positions and good fortune via way of scheming and social engineering.

Gently, Rene touched Emilia’s arm and whispered to her. “This is a tragic reality of our kingdom, that not all reap the benefit of adequate resources. Perhaps you would like to join me next time I pass out bread loaves?” she offered, her face taking on an optimistic smile. “It’s a lot of fun to do all the baking, as many loaves as possible, and then I take them to hand out around the kingdom. Different provinces, or the capital, wherever there is need. Would you like to?” It might be an eye opening experience for the princess, and could one day serve her well, to keep in mind the less fortunate, when the day came either she or her sister might take the throne.

As the child emerged, ready and willing to guide them back to the populated areas, Rene made no effort to negotiate the return of her jewelry. It was a small price to pay to ensure a woman received medicine, and a family received food. And if this was all a deception, Rene still felt no animosity. Any nefariousness on his part would be dealt with by the gods, the only beings qualified to pass judgment. She would sleep soundly in her bed with intentions pure even if she was a victim with some awareness of duplicity. Emilia seemed agreeable to his escort back to the familiar markets, and Rene made no efforts to resist either. It had been a most peculiar afternoon, and a rather enlightening one to say the least. That was until the boy spun around, issuing immediate warnings, his face ashen.

“We have to go back and hide! I know those men. They probably followed you when you ran after me. If they see you, they will take everything you own and then slit your throats!”

“Men?” Rene managed to eek out a single word before the boy shot past she and Emilia again, taking cover behind the piles of refuse. Rene’s crystalline blue eyes trailed him, her mouth falling open, unsure what to do, what to say, how to react. She hardly had a moment to question him further when she did indeed hear voices, ricocheting down the alley as they bounced from the stucco and brick walls. Emilia immediately ran to hide, a wise decision to her credit. Rene scrambled to do the same. Despite her sympathy for the less fortunate, miring about in garbage was not something she was overtly keen to, feeling a bit unclean as she likewise found a suitable place to take cover behind the remnants of a wooden frame with tattered sheets and cloth fixed here and there. Crouching down, she held her breath, as if that somehow further along her vanishing act, peaking between the frayed edges of one segment of dirty threadbare cloth to watch as the handful of ruffians moved down the street. She could hear them speaking amongst themselves, and while a thousand questions raced about her head, it was not the time to address those. One of the brutes was closing in on where Emilia was hiding, and as he drew closer and closer, Rene’s heart thundered louder and louder in her ears. She could not let any harm befall her friend as a potential future ruler of the kingdom. When she felt he’d lurked entirely too close, she banished her absolute terror as she kept Emilia’s safety in the forefront of her mind, and emerged from her hiding place.

“Who are you and what is it you seek?” she called, loud enough to snap their collective attentions like a twig. Rene was not a big person. In fact, she was very tiny, standing at 5’ even, and barely one hundred pounds soaking wet. And yet, she summoned vast legions of bravery, her shoulders back, chest puffed out slightly, chin in the air, very much asserting what dominance she could command in those moments, anything to keep Emilia from coming to harm.