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“So, Prince Onoma, remind me again what kinds of things you like to do for fun in your kingdom," probed Ambrose, strolling alongside you. “You've learned plenty about the avian society, yet I've regrettably been a homebody for much of our time together. It would be of great use to me to familiarize myself with human culture as best as I can, especially if I have ample opportunity to partake in it."

“Ha, you really aren't missing out," you retorted, chuckling in earnest. “I mean, we can certainly be a lively bunch, but that's just the copious amounts of alcohol bringing out the worst of us."

“Hmm. Well, that still doesn't give me a lot to go on," the raven mused. “Tell me more; there must be something that represents the pride and joy of your kind."

“Maybe I'm biased, but I wager you wouldn't hold a particularly high opinion of sword fighting, arm wrestling, and gambling." You shrugged, breaking your grasp of Ambrose's hand. “Honestly, we're not as fascinating a species as you think."

“Well, maybe I'm biased, but I find you far more fascinating than anyone else in my kingdom. And it's no contest compared to…her." Ambrose reflexively covered his face, regretting his utterance of that last sentence in an instant. “Drat, I really do apologize. It's unfair for me to even mention something like that given the context."

“It's okay, Ambrose," you assured him. “I know how the idea of an 'arranged marriage' stressed you out when you were younger. Just be thankful your parents were as understanding as they were to allow you to break it off before we first met. Imagine where we'd both be then!"

As the two of you continued along the bend of the current path, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “She…just wasn't a very good fit for me. The lack of free will was distressing, yes, but to be hitched to someone with nothing in common was absolutely nightmarish to me."

“Let me ask you this," you began. “How much do you think we have in common?"

“Huh…a thought-provoking question indeed." Thought-provoking enough to make him stop in his tracks. “Well, we certainly enjoy philosophizing and discussing abstract ideas at length."

“Go on…"

“Ah, you're putting me on the spot!" protested Ambrose, partially in jest. “Haha, well…we both share a preference for—"

“Ambrose, please, that's a given," you teased. It took nearly all your strength to resist smacking your forehead in front of him.

“What? I was going to say 'a preference for quiet places over raucous ones,'" he firmly insisted. If he could visibly blush, you were positive he would be doing so right now. “Gosh, you don't believe me one bit!"

Your chuckling had turned into a full-fledged guffaw, fueled by the sheer awkwardness of the engagement. “I believe you, Ambrose, I believe you. I promise."

In the midst of conversing with one another, you had started to come up on a scattering of ramshackle residences that, by your best guess, held about a few hundred villagers in total. These individuals lived a stone's throw away from the nearest town, but the manifestation of melancholy was fully evident in how they carried themselves. While you passed by, you swore you could make out the bags under the eyes of dozens of adults who were tending to menial tasks like hanging laundry and chopping wood. Their movement was at best labored and at worst agonizing, indicating years upon years of toiling away just for the sake of subsisting.

What tore at your heartstrings, however, was the sight of the children. Dirtied feathers and patchwork clothes were not particularly out of the ordinary for rustic folk, but that bubbling cauldron of fire and passion that fueled one's youth was simply…not there. Dulled eyes, somber expressions—the telltale signs of abject poverty, but without even the hope of clawing one's way out of it.

Some of the children perked up noticeably upon catching a glimpse of your silken garb and handcrafted shoes. A few pointed emphatically at Ambrose, possibly clued in by his pendant that he was someone of importance. Others were more attentive to the handful of soldiers trailing right behind you in their shiny plated armor. Despite all this, it was safe to say the parents were none too impressed or pleased.

Many simply turned their backs to you and your fiancé. From your perspective, it looked as if one of them had attempted to spit towards the earth, at least to the best of his abilities. On top of this, there were mutters of profane language coming from their general direction, although they were purposefully loud enough for you to hear. To say they were disparaging would be a massive understatement.

“Keep moving, Ambrose," you whispered, giving him an extra nudge in the back to make him pick up his stride. “This isn't worth engaging."

Although he was definitely listening to you and matching your pace, Ambrose was otherwise unresponsive. You could guess at a wild variety of reasons; there was no chance any one of them could be talked out in a short pick-me-up.

For a few minutes, there were no words exchanged, but rather a mutual understanding to make it clear of the immediate area. You glanced over your shoulder to make sure your convoy was in shouting distance, but even visually confirming their presence felt like no consolation. It didn't seem like they were in the mood to deal with this either, as they continued to trudge joylessly along the path you had forged.

You pondered far and wide for anything to spark the conversation once more, but there wasn't any kindling large enough for the task. With the fellow prince as apparently as shaken as he was, you were compelled to try a different avenue entirely.

“Ambrose."

Nothing, except for the occasional crunch of a dead leaf underneath his feet.

“Ambrose."

A stiff breeze rustling the nearby plant life answered you this time.

“Ambrose!"

“…w-what? W-were you s-saying something?" You hadn't heard him stammer this badly in a long time. Pangs of regret were reverberating inside of you, but you firmly believed there was still merit to venturing out this far.

“I'm going to find us a street vendor near the border of Owlwood. I think some food will help calm our nerves," you conceded, unwilling to speak in particular terms about what the two of you had witnessed.

“…o-okay." Wistfully, he tucked his pendant underneath his shirt, seemingly intent on trying to blend in a little more with the masses before going along with your plan.

Fortunately, nourishment was abundant inside of this town—for a token price, of course. As both of you took the first steps beyond the stone arches at the exterior, you were overwhelmed by the cacophony of sounds that filled the crisp autumn air. There were merchants shouting advertisements of their wares, townspeople bartering for said wares, kids of all different kinds of species yelling and flying up and down the streets, and plenty of other activities that got lost in the commotion.

As Ambrose indicated earlier, this was not your aesthetic in the slightest, and neither was it his. Under ordinary circumstances, you would have bailed due to the sheer sensory overload. However, you simply couldn't break away from the mishmash of culinary aromas that had travelled in your direction. Following your nose's first instinct, you gingerly guided Ambrose toward what looked to be a humble savory pastry shop.

The fellow behind the counter was comically round; perhaps you could have just chalked it up to his being a cardinal. Something about never trusting a skinny cook also came to mind, but somehow it didn't quite ring true in your head this time around. Lethargically, you began to gesture towards the back shelf behind the proprietor.

“Two of your most filling pies, good sir." Confused, you turned your head to find that Ambrose had taken the reins instead. “How much do I owe you?" the bird inquired, withdrawing a coin pouch from his satchel. He was putting on a surprisingly dignified front in spite of his perceptible disarray shortly before arriving.

“Eh, lemme see here…that'll be…four copper pieces to cover both." The cardinal managed to pivot halfway towards his inventory before spinning back around to look at his client again. “Wait a second…aren't ya the king's kid or somethin'? Seemin' far too fancy to be eatin' commoner food the way ya dress 'n' talk!"

“You would be correct." Ambrose, looking oddly satisfied with himself, began to dig around for the necessary currency to pay for his purchase.

“Bahaha! So I was right!" The shop owner busted out laughing, his hands firmly planted against his hips. You swore his whole body was experiencing a localized earthquake by the way he heaved and shook.

“I've gotta admit, ya must be sportin' some massive jewels to turn down the daughter of the highest-rankin' earl within a thousand kilometers!"

“Excuse me?" Ambrose scowled, slamming his fist with considerable force against the counter. Uh-oh, this could be trouble.

“Hey, hey, easy there, kid. I'm just sayin', you could do a helluva lot better than partnerin' with a stinkin' human! God knows they're all damn philanderers anyway." While still wheezing, the portly cardinal shifted his gaze towards you, almost apologetically. “Er, uh, no offense."

Although your pride was mildly wounded, you could somewhat sympathize with his position. Given the anthropomorphic nature of the prevailing species in the world, it had long been theorized that the infusion of human phenotypes into the collective gene pool had come about by less than civilized means. Frankly, it was no skin off your nose if this guy wanted to be a prick; all he was doing was losing a pair of customers.

Undoubtedly, the raven had already made up his mind as well. “We're going, Prince Onoma." In a huff, he proceeded to stomp off, heading for the entrance from which you came. Who was this avian, and what had he done with Ambrose?

With minimal deliberation, you made haste to slip away from the shop owner in pursuit of your beloved bird boy. “Prince? You?" The shop owner's voice, although fading in the distance, was tangibly incredulous. You couldn't decide which ailment would kill the man first: a ruptured diaphragm or a burst blood vessel in his head.

Before you could catch up to Ambrose, an exclamation from up above rattled your eardrums. “The king has decreed that the taxes levied upon this town will see a twenty percent increase in the upcoming calendar year!" It was the voice of the town crier, a peregrine falcon, beckoning to his people, and it was stirring up a lot of disdainful chatter.

“Are you serious?"

“He's hell-bent on stealing from our pockets and lining his own!"

“That son of a bitch…doesn't he realize we have families to feed? How can we possibly support ourselves with such ordinances?"

The town crier repeated his message a couple times, fluttering up, down, left, right, and center to ensure that his word was heard. You, a mere ambulatory creature, had difficulty keeping up with his flight path. Granted, he practically had the entire air space to himself, seeing as there were regulations on who could fly in urban zones to reduce congestion.

“Stop sky-watching; it isn't safe here anymore for you or His Highness." A hushed admonishment stole your attention away from above. Without you even realizing he had been approaching, the lead guard from the entourage had managed to pick you out from the throng of citizens. From a few body's lengths away, he started to pave a way for you to exit, although you still had to excuse yourself and gently push against the individuals who failed to clear enough space in the crowded street.

So far, so good; you had made it about twenty paces from the entrance when you caught a glimpse of Ambrose's head peeking around the corner of the pillar. Drawing shallow breaths, all you could think about was getting out of here unscathed and picking up this “day on the town" concept any other day.

For whatever reason, however, you couldn't shake the suspicion you were being watched. The guard's back was turned to you, so who—

“Perhaps you should air your grievances with royalty directly instead! As a matter of fact, the prince himself and his human companion are standing in the nearby entryway at this very moment!"

With the split second you had to see the town crier's miserable face, you were sickened to your core to discover a devious grin plastered upon it.

“Hold on tight!" Your balance was immediately thrown off-kilter, as your feet were no longer making contact with…well, anything. In fact, your legs were dangling helplessly from underneath you, but strangely, the sensation of falling was noticeably absent. Your stomach churned as you realized what just happened.

All things considered, you felt very calm in the arms—or rather, the left arm—of the hawk that had launched you into midair, despite the unwieldy circumstances. Maybe it was the sound of his beating wings propelling you forward that soothed you…actually, it was probably because he had a wriggling and squirming Ambrose pinned squarely to the side opposite of you. If the guard could handle a bird with a fear of heights, he was definitely equipped to secure someone like you, who put up far less resistance.

As you drifted, it dawned on you how much concentration and strength was required to evacuate two individuals in such a phenomenal fashion. Whatever they were paying him, it was nowhere close to enough. You squeezed your eyes shut, entrusting your wellbeing to the hawk until you could feel the sweet, sweet texture of bladed grass under your toes once more.

It felt like ages before the forcefulness of the wind gradually dwindled, matched by the slowing of the powerful flapping. You figured you'd let your ears dictate when to return to using your sight. Even as you were descending, you didn't exactly have the courage to check out the towering view beneath.

Downward, downward you went…slowly downward…uh…land, ho? You were quivering way more than you liked to admit; the comforting embrace that had carried you all the way here had dissipated.

“We're back within the walls of the castle." Rubbing your eyes, you found the hawk's assertion to be exceptionally true, much to your relief. Never had you been so glad to be rooted to the earth in your entire life.

“Heavens, Artemis! Thank…thank goodness, you're a lifesaver!" croaked Ambrose, his throat parched from the massive intake of air.

Rather than acknowledging Ambrose's praise, Artemis peered down at you instead. “Prince Onoma, please exercise better judgment in the future. As an outsider to the avian lands, you will receive a pass this time around, but I will not tolerate you endangering Your Highness's safety again in the future." And with that, he departed the scene, leaving just you and Ambrose to catch your collective breaths.

“Oh, please forgive Artemis. He…he carries himself as cold and unflinching, but…in private quarters, he's a big softie," the bird prince reassured you, waving his hand dismissively. “He was sworn into the royal guard to protect me when I was born, so you can understand…you can understand how seriously he takes his responsibility."

“I see." There wasn't a single atom in your body that wanted to have a prolonged conversation. Instead, you sat down tentatively, pulling your knees against your chest to contemplate the gravity of your actions. To have thought that your gut feeling of something “interesting" happening would lead to something like this…was unconscionable.

“Prince Onoma…" Ambrose walked over to you and crouched down to your level, yanking you close to rest his forehead against yours. “It's all right if you don't accept it right now, but it's not your fault. None of this is."

You wanted desperately to turn away; the bird held your head steady.

“What we saw today…what we heard today...we can't make it right overnight. I may not be as strong or capable as many of my peers, but even so…I can't just rest on my laurels, can I?"

Shaking your head, you couldn't find fault with what he was saying.

“I know you won't either. I also know that supporting each another is paramount in a relationship, and you've done most of the heavy lifting." Ambrose sprung right up, extending his hand to you. Hesitantly accepting his grasp, you rose to your feet.

“I want to ease your pain during the times you feel scared and vulnerable, even if I can't always find the right way to do so. That's because…to me, you're worth everything, and I'll do my damnedest to keep you happy. So thank you for allowing me this small opportunity…Onoma."

With a sympathetic smile, he turned to head up the steps that led to the main hall. “We've got plenty of priorities to burn down before the wedding, and I won't be able to rest until every last one of them has been completed. Won't you help me?"

Forgoing any hesitation this time, you nodded. For of course you would help him, as you had done so countless times before, and there was bound to be many more in store.